The first question people insist on asking a new acquaintance is: What do you do for a living? I hated that. Insecurity, probably, because I’m not a lawyer or a doctor or any of those other professions that make people say, Oh…in that reverent, awestruck way. And anyone unlucky enough to ask me that fatal question without preceding it with at least two others—for example, what books have you read lately or who’s your favorite ballplayer—was answered with: “I’m a lumberjack.” Because any person with a greater interest in what it is I do to earn enough money to afford rent and music and beer and
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