ut now,
when someone walks into my apartment, they light up and say,
"Oh, this is cute."
They look at the nice stuff surrounding them,
instead of staring wide-eyed at
my pathetic junk
nd if I come to a table
at a restaurant where some agent/editor type's
waiting for me, they don't say things like
"Ummm, sorry, I'm waiting for someone." They know I'm
I sit down, and we get right to business.
n other words, my bourgeois "drag" is working.
I added it up:
I've spent twenty-three hundred bucks so far to get
maybe fifteen or twenty thousand bucks worth
of writing gigs, with the potential for ten
or twenty times that looming closer and closer.
And you know what? I feel just fine.
I've been having a lot of great conversations with businessmen lately.
Some of them
or my money, that's a lot better off than any
Yanomani Indian I ever met.
