his indestructible human spirit

He wanted to know what I did in my spare time. I told him I did a little writing here and there.

"So you drink much or...?" he said.

"Do I drink much?"

"I know a lotta writers drink. I was just curious."

"I mean, occasionally."

"Nothin' like Hemingway, though, right? I mean, he was a drinker. Believed life was a tragedy and knew it could only have one end."

"That's right."

"Had high cholesterol and high blood pressure and an aorta inflammation."

"I didn't know that."

"Mm-hmm. Died July 27, 1961, at 5 AM from a self-inflicted gunshot blast to the head. You're not that conflicted, are ya?"

"I don't think so."

"Ya think the more conflicted a writer is, the more talented they are, or...?"

"Not necessarily."

"Ya think mental illness diminishes or enhances a writer's ability?

"I have no way of even..."

"Yeah, I do a little writing myself."

"Oh yeah?"

"Just some poetry, you know, short stories, nothin' major. Working on a screenplay about Walt Whitman. I'm totally into Shakespeare. I mean, if you gotta have a writer as a role model, ya know what I mean? Like he frames everything I write and how I live my life. Like whenever I'm describing a character, tryna get it right, in my mind, I'm linkin' them to, like Iago or Hamlet or Ophelia or Macbeth or Lear, you know, it helps me to structure my own characters...' course, Shakespeare stole many of his plots from the Greeks. Or was it Christopher Marlowe? Marlowe was killed in a tavern brawl on May 30, 1593."

"Really..."

"Yeah. Hamlet was an interesting character. I essentially agree with him when he says, you know, that basically, life's a piece of shit 'cause there are so many assholes out there makin' it so fucken unbearable for us, so what's the point? And I suppose many people would say his saving grace is that he doesn't off himself...'cause he says, what does he say? 'Something after death' could be worse? Somethin' like that? Anyway, I dunno; who knows? Whatever, right?"

"Mm, interesting..."

"Yeah. Well, very cool. always good to run into a fellow scribe..." He checked his watch. "Yo, I'm late for my shock therapy session.

Lots of things goin' on with me emotionally. Workin through 'em though, with the help of my savior, yo," and he gave a thumbs up.

"That's good news for you," I said.

"It is. Definitely, God is good. But ya know what I've learned?"

"What's that?"

"A lot of defining moments that build or break your character happen in the blink of an eye," and he let that one hang in the air for a while. "Well, good luck, man, keep writing. You know, sometimes it's all we have..."

He walked away, whistling.

I walked away, unable to blink my eyes.