alex writes a story

I sometimes sit down and write stories...I am working this story..I work on many projects at once...

(this may seem autobiographical but it is really just a story I typed out for fun..) Alex has no self-doubt..

NOT EDITED..bad typos etc--stream of consciousness

I met Mr. Wu when I was drinking alone and feeling sorry for myself and facing eviction. He sat next to me when there was a lot of empty seats at the bar, this annoyed me. "I am Mr. Wu, How do you do?" he said with a smile. I am Zane and I am having a beer alone, thanks. "That is who you are, lonely Zane, I'll go it alone, I am a long suffering artist." How did he know I am an artist, my brain searched back through my words, I said nothing about art to him..." Now I was annoyed and curious both at the same time. "How did you know I was an artist?" I tried not to sound annoyed and tried not to get myself trapped into a long conversation with a stranger. "Lucky Guess." he chuckled "you like like an artist, you need a haircut." "how come you are not famous?" I am not famous because the odds are and were against, most artists never sell anything. I have sold a lot of work and now I cant pay my rent and I am forty" "Jesus you are old" he chuckled "you are old if you feel old" "you are what you think and feel all day long."
He ordered a beer a took a cold slow sip "good" he said "very good" "so you feel you missed the boat" "i didn't say that" I intervened. You look it, you have the "I missed the boat face." "I see that face everywhere, on the subway, in the bars, in the stores." "and what is your face?" I was pissed but smiling in spite of myself. "my face is your destiny..."