Reblogged from Andrew Joyce:

I once had a girl. She was from Norway, but we met in New York City at a jazz club on the Upper West Side. My friend Lane had dragged me there; he told me that I would really dig the sax player. I didn’t want to go because I was broke and I was embarrassed that Lane was always picking up the check when we when out. But he persisted, so I went with him that warm August night. It was a night that changed my life forever.

Lane and I were from upstate New York, we had been friends since high school. We were both going to be writers and write the Great American Novel. And here we were, a few years later. Lane wrote copy for an ad agency and I wrote short stories that no one would buy.

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