SM: When was the last time you went on something you feel comfortable calling an adventure?
BO: Last night when I went home tired as shit, and I knew I was going to have to/get to clean the house and put the kids to bed without any help (my wife was out). How would I survive? Would it be pleasant? Would I break down and start yelling? What would go wrong? It was very challenging and exciting. A test of my patience, my fortitude.
SM: If you had locks on all your doors that could only be opened by speaking a four word combination out loud, what four words would you pick to say every day to get into your house?
BO: Open up Dammit. Fuck!
SM: What do you think would be a good opening line for a detective novel?
BO: “Women kill me.”
SM: What is one thing you are sure of?
BO: I will never finish my “great” detective novel.
SM: Regale us, please, with an anecdote.
BO: One time I was in Chicago, waiting tables at a cheezy restaurant and I really resented it, then a little later I was a writer on a national TV show in New York and I was unbelievably depressed and alone, and then, after that, I was in Los Angeles and working on a million different things and had kids and a wife, and while not entirely happy, I was closer to happiness than ever before. You shoulda been there.
SM: What joke would you tell the devil at a party in hell?
BO: Hey, man, who’s in charge of this dump? I got a couple complaints.
SM: When was the last time you danced like you meant it?
BO: Probably at a wedding. I don’t dance much. But when I do, I mean it. Pathetic as that may be.
SM: Barring their name or profession, what’s one of the first things you try to learn about someone after meeting them?
BO: Are you still tight with your family?
SM: Some lunatic on the street has stolen your ice cream cone right out of your hand and run up a tree with it. How do you get your ice cream back?
BO: There is no clever answer. You scramble up the tree, and you punch, kick, bite and tear at that asshole until he gives it up.
SM: Please compose a haiku on a subject of your choosing.
BO:
UNSATISFIED
Five syllables is
Less than Seven and five more
is still not enough
Fuck, you got me to write a fucking haiku.
Bastards.
