Like the Dog I Am

"When he told me he needed a fountain pen, I dismissed it as normal, what normal passes for anyhow in this world we inhabit. And then, later, I thought, hold on, he's going to stick that nib into his vein and write a book out of his own blood. A few moments of panic and then normality grabbed me again, bit me hard on the cheek. I could see him doing it too, hunched over his desk, the one with the cartridges on it, madly scribbling verse in his own métier. Later, compelled by gnawing cold an...