It's Turning Out To Be

They Resumed Walking. Alex Felt An Ache In His Eyes And Throat. "i Don't Know What Happened To Me," He Said, Shaking His Head. "i Honestly Don't." Bennie Glanced At Him, A Middle-aged Man With Chaotic Silver Hair And Thoughtful Eyes. "you Grew Up, Alex," He Said, "just Like The Rest Of Us.

He Looks Tired, Like Someone Walked On His Skin And Left Footprints.

I Was A Stepchild In Two Different Families. The Hardest Thing About Being A Stepchild Is You Know That In Some Way Everything Would Be Easier If You Didnt Exist.

But I Always Need To Identify With A Character To Write About Him Or Her - And By "identify," I Mean See The World Through That Person's Eyes And Have A Strong Sense Of The Inner Logic Of Their Acts And Decisions, Wacky Or Wrongheaded Though They Might Be. In That Sense, I Think There's Some Of Me In All Of Them.

A Bit Of Theory As We Settle Down For Lunch: The Waiter's Treatment Of Kitty Is Actually A Kind Of Sandwich, With The Bottom Bread Being The Bored And Slightly Effete Way He Normally Acts With Customers, The Middle Being The Crazed And Abnormal Way He Feels Around This Famous Nineteen-year-old Girl, And The Top Bread Being His Attempt To Contain And Conceal This Alien Middle Layer With Some Mode Of Behavior That At Least Approximates The Bottom Layer Of Boredom And Effeteness That Is His Norm.