This was good training for a writer, for the sooner you accept the fact that you are a deluded idiot who is always out of step with reality the better off you will be.
“A Psychotonic Childhood,” by Colson Whitehead
The way he talks about being an indoor kid in the lede hit home in the funniest way. I was always jealous of sickly Victorian writers because they didn’t have to, like, play recreational soccer. Although, they didn’t have TV either so it’s a give and take.
