Remember Colin Beavan, the 40-something Brooklyn writer who forswore toilet paper and showers in pursuit of a book deal about being green? To us it seemed that his wife, a kindly Business Week editor by the name of Michelle Conlin, was only hanging on by a thread. We're surprised to find that, months later, it seems she's still hanging on by that very same thread. Who knew organic shade-grown raffia was so sturdy?
Why was I born?
Where is it that I'm hurrying to before I die?
What is the thing in this life that has true value?
Does anything endure?
How should I spend my life?
If life is over in the blink of an eye, who or what is it that is doing the blinking?
Jesus Christ, he's clearly starving to death. Or is it possible for one's brain to die from not wiping one's ass?