“I wrote my name on the list 10 years ago, and under the date I wrote “In the future.” But how’d I know I’d show up, and not my clone posing as me?”

“She had a picture of a llama, so under it I wrote, “I didn’t know you knew my brother.”

“If I had my clone take a test for me, it’s likely I’d misspell my own name. And I’m terrible at remembering people’s names—even if that person is me.”

“I’m quoting my clone, because he quoted me thinking if I said it, he said it. He thought he was quoting himself when he quoted me. So in effect I’m quoting myself quoting myself, with my clone as a source of what I wrote.”

“I tattooed my name on my buttocks, so you’d know what an ass I am. Also so either me or my clone could claim me, if I ever got lost.”

“I’d say my writing voice is original, and I don’t think you’ll find another quite like it. This makes me sad, because when all my clones arrive sometime in the future, their only hope is to try to copy me.
”

“I wrote this piece because my mailbox was full of bills, junk mail, and lettuce, but not a single letter from Andre Breton. So I decided I’d write to him (though I did eat my first two drafts).”