“There’s no there there, son. Stop telling yourself tales. I mean look at you, all covered in stains, threw away your hat, unshaven, sulking. You look like hell.
“My advice to you? You’re a writer. So write.”
There is a lot to think about.
I don’t know where today will take me.
I am not satisfied with who I have become recently. It will not do.
I haven’t forgotten.