«At a party, I stood next to a bald guy with a beard who didn’t say anything. I noticed a nearby couple put their heads together and whisper while pointing at me. They were smiling so I went over and inquired if I could help them in any way.

“No, not at all,” said the woman, “but listen, isn’t that Sir Salman Rushdie who stood next to you just now? We’re such fans.” The man nodded.

I was in a strange mood that night. I felt unappreciated, not just by everyone, but by the universe itself. I felt shat upon by fate. In any book that I opened I saw only the flaws, and I thought every published writer was a total jerk to be successful while I wrote brilliantly but remained undiscovered and unpublished.»

(From: My Friend Salman Rushdie)

pachydermini:

Jeffrey Hecker, Ofelia Hunt, Janey Smith and Marcus Speh stories. Donate to get the pdf. $2 or more make for a lovely weekend read or might somehow save your life. 

#52.

Posted at 7:35am.