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i was in kind of a somber mood today.  i tried not to take drugs in order to get through my ten p.m. class, but I have regrets.  i started falling asleep by the time michael , mark and amy all got up to the panels. we all had to pick our favorite interviews from the paris review.  i scrolled down through about four until i saw brett easton ellis. i moved my cursor over to his picture and clicked, clicked, clicked.

i bought headphones for the interview because i had to mask out baltimore and think of coked-out sun parties.  it worked.  i typed up his bio in the mac lab, and sat down to class wanting to be the first to read.

we were delayed because of amy.  every time one of my friends would ask a question, amy would talk over michael or mark.  at these moments i’d go out to the bathroom for kleenex and sneeze.  if she was still talking when i came back, then i’d start reading my paris review interview.  i’d stop when my teacher adam got figgedty or when he’d look at me.

when they all left, i finally had adam to myself. i could talk about being too shy to read in front of all those guys, or too scared to submit to welter.  and he allayed those.  we talked openly about things.  . i’d pitch in when there were conversations about editors trying to make an author look better.  like when easton ellis wrote glamorama, gary his editor, kept cutting pieces out of it, to make ellis seem likeable.  but ellis wanted to be mean.  they were his drafts and he wanted to keep them that way.

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