Once I sat in on a play rehearsal for a play I didn’t recognize, and I asked one of the actors “What’s this?”, and he said, “Beckett,” and I though he meant maybe Endgame or Waiting for Godot so I asked, “which one?”, and he looked at me like I was an idiot. The name of the play was Beckett. It was about Thomas Beckett the saint. How was I supposed to know? People think you’re stupid for no reason.

We were camping once when I was about ten and across the lake we could see a huge boulder slide down the mountain and onto the highway. We could hear it too. A few minutes later a car came down the highway with its headlights on, and it stopped right in front of the boulder and the debris, and the headlights were showing on the boulder.

One night when I lived in the dorms my windows got egged because I lived across the street from frat row. At first I thought someone was throwing bark at my window, but it was really the sound of egg shells cracking. I got up and looked out the window, down on to the lawn, and I saw the guy throw another egg. He tried to peg me, but missed so much that I didn’t even get the splatter. I decided to act aggressive, so I bellowed, “What the fuck is going on?” and he turned and ran away. The next day I tried to figure out why anyone would want to egg my window, and finally I realized it was because I was the only person who left their windows open at night.

I am writing this at work and a pretty girl just came and and we had a conversation about David McCullough’s biography of John Adams which, in her case, was 9 days overdue. I faked my way through the conversation, pretending I had read it. It’s easy to fake having read a biography unless it’s a really inaccurate biography.