I took Bryan to see Louis CK at the Merriam Theatre here in Philly. I scored us second row seats, not including the few rows of folding chairs in the orchestra pit. I could read the writing on Louis’s water bottle: Aquafina. I could see the burnt mushroom color of his eyes.
I finally found it. I’ve been looking for it since last night. I don’t even know how it came up. I was talking with the kids after dinner. We had fish—a nice frozen white filet of some sort from Trader Joe’s that I’d defrosted in the fridge and refroze about three times before finally committing to the thing. I hate eating fish when it’s raining. It’s too much water element, you know? It depresses me. And I always think I’ve scored the deal of the century buying a frozen fish filet at Trader Joe’s, but the things are still like six dollars a pound which ain’t cheap.
I did learn something from all of this, namely that no matter who you are or what your parentage is, you have to work for success. I really did use to sit around waiting to be discovered. After my book was published I thought I’d teleport to a beachfront property in Malibu, be a guest on Dave Letterman. I was that naive about the world. A writer friend tried to explain this to me over dinner one night. I’ll never forget it. Like I’d just fallen off the turnip truck, she’d said. She worked her butt off, for magazines, wrote numerous books, landed a spot on a morning talk show.
