When Did I Stop Being

I Tend Not To Think About The Reading Public At All, Or The Business, When I'm Writing.

I Hate This Bizarre Policy Of Protective Exclusion, Because It Effectively Writes Me Off The Page.

When Did I Stop Being Me?

I Am Further Back, Surrounded On All Sides By Wailing Men, Their Faces Shiny With Tears. Uncle Al Promised Three Dollars And A Bottle Of Canadian Whiskey To The Man Who Puts On The Best Show. You've Never Seen Such Grief-- Even The Dogs Were Howling.

Jacob: I've Never Seen So Much Manure. Wade: Baggage Stock Horses. They Pack'em In 27 A Car. Jacob: How Do You Stand The Smell? Wade: What Smell?