video;
When I was seventeen, I had cholera. It nearly killed me, and I didn't care much about getting better. [ and he can't remember why he didn't exactly, but blames that on it having been nearly 140 years ago and spending most of his seventeenth year of life in a sickly haze. ] My father wanted me to follow in his footsteps, to get ordained and be a priest. [ a roll of his eyes; the idea seems so ridiculous to him now, given everything he's done and been involved in. ] Anyway, since priesthood wasn't exactly something to live for, I found inspiration in one of Twain's books, and I remember-- I remember thinking that I could go places, do things, use my brilliance for something other than God's work. That I could do man's work and shape the world in images of what it could and should be.
Which likely sounds like some ridiculous start to some sappy Lifetime movie. [ when things get too personal, he retreats. ] Twain wasn't nearly as gracious as his novels. I think I liked that about him best. [ subject change! and yes, he was friends with mark twain. really good friends in twain's later years, until the man became just another person he'd managed to outlive. ]