... i crashed the junior prom one night because i didn’t have a date or anything else to do. i think i was just collecting literary material. i really felt out of place. i left soon after that. pretty much the story of my life with the opposite sex back then.
i feel sort of the same way here. wondering if i’m just intruding where i’m not wanted and spouting pontifical nonsense articulated by a loser which people endure in the pretty well-founded hope that i’ll just drift off after a while to some apparently greener pasture, hoping to distract myself from the knowledge that in the long run, i’m all dead. not to mention unpublishable. i won’t actually admit to that label until i am dead but if i don’t get some income fairly soon it may not be all that long to wait.
... about laziness, i went to an excellent college and about the only things of substance i accomplished were, i wrote a lot, i read a lot, and i did a lot of dope. how is the dope of substance? just in terms of volume. i did not work hard on my writing, i figured i was already there. i won a couple of prizes. i shared one of the prizes with a classmate who (i thought) wrote in a pedestrian way about boring topics. he really worked hard on his writing. kept at it. scott turow. the difference between inspiration and perspiration.
later in the seventies i went to home to plant trees and law school instead of the iowa writer's workshp, and my fate was sealed, my seat was failed, and my feet were sailed. the great tillie olsen lamented my choice, and she was right. but there was some kind of practical imperative making me do what i did -- can't remember what it was. maybe i just lost my nerve. maybe my friends in jail just needed help too much. maybe i thought i could always go back again. this having even read the original Thos. Wolfe; anyway, a big mistake in the long run. you roll the dice, you takes yer chances ... i made a million dollars, i lost a million dollars. what a career choice.