The day Roger Ebert saved my life — salon.com

Sometimes I wonder what will become of me. I want to be a lot of things, but I’m too embarrassed to say any of it, so I keep it to myself. Sometimes it’s to be a writer. But sometimes I change my mind. Maybe I’ll be a movie director. Sometimes I want to be a rock star, and I play air guitar in my room until somebody knocks and barges in and I pretend I was doing push-​ups. I keep a list of my favorite authors. A lot of them teach in colleges around the country, and I send them letters there, asking them if they need an assistant or an intern. When I wander around at night, scuffing my old shoes on the streets, I imagine one of them saying yes and taking me on to work with him in a small house together. Maybe a writer who feels forgotten and needs somebody to believe in him. But nobody writes me back.

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