David Sedaris
David Sedaris
David Raymond Sedarisis an American humorist, comedian, author, and radio contributor. He was publicly recognized in 1992 when National Public Radio broadcast his essay "SantaLand Diaries". He published his first collection of essays and short stories, Barrel Fever, in 1994. His next five essay collections, Naked, Holidays on Ice, Me Talk Pretty One Day, Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim, and When You Are Engulfed in Flames, became New York Times Best Sellers. In 2010, he released a collection...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionWriter
Date of Birth26 December 1956
CountryUnited States of America
I had to wrestle daily with both my inadequacy and my uncontrollable jealousy. I didn't want to kill her, but hoped someone else might do the job for me.
I always knew I wanted it to be illustrated.
My feet are completely flat, but for most of my life they were still shaped like feet. Now, thanks to bunions, they're shaped more like states, wide boring ones that nobody wants to drive through.
The humor section is the last place an author wants to be. They put your stuff next to collections of Cathy cartoons.
The combination of ammonia and chloride can be lethal but I've discovered it can work miracles as long as you keep telling yourself, "I want to love, I want to live...
I don't really do very well when I'm sent somewhere. A lot of magazines want to send you somewhere to do something. They want you to stow away on a ship, or something like that.
It was all luck and it all started with that radio piece. If it wasn't for that, I'd probably still be cleaning apartments as a maid in New York.'
Maybe I'll learn a trade. I've considered taxidermy. I always thought it was a shame you couldn't do that on people.
One thing about English-language bookstores in the age of Amazon is that it assumes that everybody has the Internet, ... I don't. I've never seen the Internet. I've never ordered a book on it, and I wouldn't really want to.
Seven beers followed by two Scotches and a thimble of marijuana and it's funny how sleep comes all on it's own.
If you read somebody's diary, you get what you deserve.
This was the consequence of seeing too much and understanding the horrible truth: No one is safe. The world is not manageable.
Neighbors would pass, and when they honked I'd remember that I was in my Speedo. Then I'd wrap my towel like a skirt around my waist and remind my sisters that this was not girlish but Egyptian, thank you very much.
I hoped our lives would continue this way forever, but inevitably the past came knocking. Not the good kind that was collectible but the bad kind that had arthritis.