school year. He asked if I would look after them. I told him Рnot to talk that way. He stared at me sadly. Р Р He died a few weeks later. Р Р After the funeral, my life changed. I felt as if time were suddenly precious, water going down an open drain, Рand I could not move quickly enough. No more playing music at half-empty night clubs. No more writing Рsongs in my apartment, songs that no one would hear. I returned to school. I earned a master’s degree in Рjournalism and took the first job offered, as a sports writer. Instead of chasing my own fame, I wrote about Рfamous athletes chasing theirs. I worked for newspapers and freelanced for magazines. I worked at a pace that Рknew no hours, no limits. I would wake up in the morning, brush my teeth, and sit down at the typewriter in the
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