He construed me as a kind of baroque entity, abnormal and warped, whose inner being was utterly out of sync with its outward expression – completely the opposite of how I saw myself, which was ordinary to the point of self-erasure, this very ordinariness being my problem as a writer. I enjoyed football, both playing and watching; I enjoyed lightweight American films and could still read comics now and again; I watched the weather forecast on TV, or the news, because of the gorgeous women who sometimes appeared on the screen, and could develop small crushes on them; I enjoyed much the same
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