Journalism is not just a cause, it's also a wacky profession.

It’s vital that you remind everyone around you at the hospital that you’re still a human being, even when you feel like a gravely wounded animal. The hospital care providers were not my family, but I soon realized that I needed them to care about me as if we were connected by blood.

And this is as good a picture as any of how counterculture communities like the Haight took care of the war’s mangled souls: a doctor from a hippie clinic carrying a dying, emaciated soldier in his arms. For decades after the war, up to this very day, right-wing politicians and pundits have spread the libel about how peace activists and hippies greeted returning Vietnam vets with gobs of spit and contempt.

I now live in a ghost world, and not everyone who was once close to me wants to venture into this shadowy place to hang out with me. Some people are clearly spooked. I remind them of their own frailty and mortality. I get it; it’s understandable. But it confirms my spectral status to me.

I think there is a difference between Slate and Salon. I think we both serve important functions on the Internet. As more and more Websites disappear, I’m thankful Slate is still around because it makes things less lonely.

My favorite thing is still journalism. I’m almost 50. This has been my life ever since I was in college.

I know that doesn’t sound very radical and webby of me to say that but I think the New York Times is important. I also think there’s an occasional piece that will pop out.

I have no regrets about launching Salon. For the life of me, I can’t imagine doing anything else.

I got kicked out of high school, so I couldn’t get into very many colleges.

If Dulles could use a person, that person was somehow real for him. If not, that person didn’t exist.