David’s friend falls off the cliff
wants to end up dead in a ditch, right? People want to die happy, loved, and satisfied with the life they have lived, right? It’s a neurotic tick to feel reflexive regret. It takes practice to become an expert. Or you can be a New Yorker. Or you can be a Jew. But enough about me. Then there’s that line, too, that some cross into DSM-IV
disorders. By that I mean you can also be Paul
, who, by once promising not to off himself, set in me the fear, which hadn’t before existed, that he would.
Paul went from, at 25, a charmingly neurotic, a maddeningly talented and entertaining mess, who was loved by women, who had stories of outrageous escapades, who could bring the house down when he read one of his short stories, to a shuffling alcoholic, and the object of resentful worry by everyone who knew him.