I don’t’ know what made me go downstairs to watch television. I was supposed to be writing, but the truth is I had already gone downstairs at least thirteen times today.  Thirteen snacks I had. Yes, that’s right. Thirteen.

So I turn on the TV and there’s Oprah!  She was wearing sort of a mauve lipstick and interviewing Cormac McCarthy.  Had I known, I would have watched it on purpose. I couldn’t believe my luck.

I was so excited I put my cookie down for a second, but then I got nervous and had to immediately start eating it again.

The interview wasn’t going well. I almost couldn’t look.

Oprah looked like she wished she hadn’t come up with the idea to interview him in the first place.  He’s not exactly the life of the party.

In fact, I’d be willing to guess that Cormac is a little depressed. They say large prizes can do that to you. I wouldn’t know.  The only thing I ever won was a pin for good behavior in fourth grade. I still have it.  Fortunately it’s only the size of a dime. I didn’t get depressed from it at all.

Anyway, Cormac wouldn’t even sit up straight.  I know Oprah must have said to him before the interview, “you might want to sit up a little, Cormac.” But he never did.  He just stayed slumped in his chair.

  According to Cormac, the only thing we need is toothpaste and shoes.  I, my friend, also need a bra, but I appreciate a man who doesn’t even mention toilet paper on his list of must-haves.

I also like the idea that Cormac got kicked out of a $40 hotel for not having enough money.  $40 a month.  And that he said he didn’t care because he just flat out refused to work.  His entire life.  He just flat out refused.

I think he did very well for himself despite his work ethic, don’t you? 

Imagine if you were a kid and you said to your parents, “Mom, Dad, I refuse to work.”
And your parents said, “Son, with that attitude you will win a Pulitzer Prize.”

Just goes to show how nothing we think is true matters.

From now on I’m going to pattern my life after Cormac’s.  I’m not going to wear anything but shoes; I’m not going to work; and if someone asks me if I care if people read my books, I’m going to say:

“Honestly, no.”

I want to be exactly like him, even if it means falling into a deep depression.  Except I’ll sit up straight if Oprah asks me to.