Writers, it seems to me--well, we could say many things about them--are bookish types with a fair amount going on in their heads. They are observers. I think some of them find it, in a way, difficult to be around people all the time. They are sensitive people, vulnerable, and maybe sometimes they have a hard time standing up for themselves, uncertain of what to stand up for, because, well, everything is an experience. But you'd like to whisper over their shoulder sometime, "Jack, say 'no.' Say 'no,' to Neil. I know he's fun and everything, but you have your Buddhism to read up on, meditations to do. Don't get in that car." (Well, on the other hand, if he had listened, we wouldn't have On The Road, such as it is.) Hemingway couldn't say no to wanting to experience things, so he was bold and adventurous. It was his nature to run toward danger and a battle rather than retreat. But all that didn't change the mind-ways of a man essentially shy, at least in some way, who needed to retreat for the first half of the day to his writing chamber.

It's as if people are too much sometime. Each one is a study, after all.

If writers have a tendency toward drinking, toward the social lubricant, perhaps it allows a state of pleasure in their minds that makes it a bit easier to put on the mask required of them.

Writers are people on the way toward Buddhist-type enlightenment. They maintain secret wishes to sit under a tree and meditate as the world goes about its business.

They love being around people, they know how horrible they themselves are... The list goes on and on.



Oh,crap,I didn't say anything new.