Chiseling an identity takes hard work. Determination. And plenty of moxie. I should know. I've been carving out new identities since the early 1980's. With varying success. Okay. With no success. Today I still have no identity whatsoever. Which is why a Wall Street Journal reporter interviewed me. She was fascinated to discover someone who couldn't craft a personality. I don't know how she found out about me. Since I make no impression at work or outside of work. I'm a cipher. A non-entity. Bupkis on a stick. But this Rachel Feintzeig person found me sitting on a park bench, reading Tristram Shandy. Okay. I wasn't reading some old English novel. I was looking at a Vermont Country Store catalog. She sits down next to me. Gives me her business card. And starts to grill me. At first I resented her questions. But then she began giving me Jolly Rancher hard candies. I especially like the watermelon flavored ones. And we got on like a house afire. When she was done interviewing me she shook my hand. I gave her back her business card. I'm really into recycling. She walked away. And Nova Scotia became a little bit more real.
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