diary / by Edward Mullany


I guess Chekhov is my favorite writer, if I had to choose one, though I feel like he would want me to choose another, if he were alive, and happened to hear someone put the question to me, and hear, as well, my answer, though I imagine, if that were the case, he would smile when he made whatever remark he was bound to make, as if he’d be pleased with what I’d said, but also embarrassed, so that I’d probably end up keeping my response as it had been, anyway, rather than changing it, or adding someone to it, despite his protestations, because by then I’d want only to joke with him, and give him reason to laugh, and be amused.