Every now and then one of my friends will say to me, “I’m reading this book, and there’s a character in it that reminds me of you.” And when they describe the character it’s the same sort of person every time: some dysfunctional loser who’s squatting in a basement or an old castle or something, living off bread crusts and old potatoes and never sleeping, and walking alone at night with his hands in his pockets scoffing at evil society, and upon returning home and having found pen and paper he sits down and begins scribbling about how miserable and alone he feels amongst his fellow man!!!!

(Laura is reading ‘The Invention of Morel’ and she said I’m The Fugitive (lol).)