Don is interesting to me because he treats everyone like a child. He scolds and gives pats on the head. His poetry is about “sittin’” in a hotel room with “nothin’” but his memories and an “ol’ trombone.” His paintings are equally clichéd—night scenes, mainly. Norman Rockwell with a five o’clock shadow. Don is complex in an odd way. “I guess you could say that I’ve always been a loner,” he says, and, “Really, my concerns are very intellectual.” He spends a lot of time telling you how smart he is, which is odd because, if you’re truly all that bright, people can usually figure it out on their
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