Go To Sleep

'confidence is the key' he said.

'I know' I said.

'just keep falling forward'

'you're right'

'or kill yourself'

nothing was a bad idea at this point.

crime, a con, even counterfeiting.

all things were on the table.

'let's rob a bank...'

'I like it...very romantic, but inevitably we end up jail, so no good.

I like my freedom, such as it is.'

'jail...phew...fine with me...then I get some time with myself without

all these distractions...'

'jail? doesn't sound fun....'

'fun? probably not but then I'd get to finally write that book I've been

threatening for 20 years....it'll be perfect....just we and the words.'

'you haven't thought about this enough', I think. 'Think'.

'what do you mean, lots of great books were written in prison.'

'name 2!' I said, already knowing the answer.

he thought for a minute.

'Marquis de Sade wrote one....oh, and Hitler, wrote 'Mein Kempf' in jail.'

he thought some more but said nothing.

'great, so you've got the head Nazi and a sadist as your inspiration...

sounds successful.'

'oh, and Mandela...he's good.'

'ya...but 27 years in prison...I'm sure he had a lot of time to write,

or at least edit the few things he did...'

'hmmm, 27 years, ah...that's a long time.'

'no shit.'

'maybe you should just get a shitty job and start writing when you have the time.

In prison all you'll have is time, I think you'd be more successful if you had to

work for it.'

he looked up at the ceiling and thought.

'maybe you're right'

'oh, and find some better role models.'