killing him.
he is 27. I am 44. I can-t seem to
get rid of
him. his novels keep coming
back. -what do you expect me to do?� he screams
-go to New York and pump the hands of the
publishers?�
-no,� I tell him, -but quit your job, go into a
small room and do the
thing.�
-but I need ASSURANCE, I need something to
go by, some word, some sign!�
-some men did not think that way:
Van Gogh, Wagner-�
-oh hell, Van Gogh had a brother who gave him
paints whenever he
needed them!�

-look,� he said, -I-m over at this broad-s house today and
this guy walks in. a salesman. you know
how they talk. drove up in this new
car. talked about his vacation. said he went to
Frisco-saw Fidelio up there but forgot who
wrote it. now this guy is 54 years
old. so I told him: -Fidelio is Beethoven-s only
opera.- and then I told
him: -you-re a jerk!- -whatcha mean?- he
asked. -I mean, you-re a jerk, you-re 54 years old and
you don-t know anything!-�

-what happened
then?�
-I walked out.�
-you mean you left him there with
her?�
-yes.�

-I can-t quit my job,� he said. -I always have trouble getting a
job. I walk in, they look at me, listen to me talk and
they think right away, ah ha! he-s too intelligent for
this job, he won-t stay
so there-s really no sense in hiring
him.
now, YOU walk into a place and you don-t have any trouble:
you look like an old wino, you look like a guy who needs a
job and they look at you and they think:
ah ha!: now here-s a guy who really needs work! if we hire
him he-ll stay a long time and work
HARD!�

-do any of those people,� he asks -know you are a
writer, that you write poetry?�
-no.�
-you never talk about
it. not even to
me! if I hadn-t seen you in that magazine I-d
have never known.�
-that-s right.�
-still, I-d like to tell these people that you are a
writer.�
-I-d still like to
tell them.�
-why?�
-well, they talk about you. they think you are just a
horseplayer and a drunk.�
-I am both of those.�
-well, they talk about you. you have odd ways. you travel alone.
I-m the only friend you
have.�
-yes.�
-they talk you down. I-d like to defend you. I-d like to tell
them you write
poetry.�
-leave it alone. I work here like they
do. we-re all the same.�
-well, I-d like to do it for myself then. I want them to know why
I travel with
you. I speak 7 languages, I know my music-�
-forget it.�
-all right, I-ll respect your
wishes. but there-s something else-�
-what?�
-I-ve been thinking about getting a
piano. but then I-ve been thinking about getting a
violin too but I can-t make up my
mind!�
-buy a piano.�
-you think
so?�
-yes.�

he walks away
thinking about
it.

I was thinking about it
too: I figure he can always come over with his
violin and more
sad music.