It's writers' group, and Harry has just shared part of one of the chapters that he's working on, what he calls his "Indian novel." He wrote, partially, about prostitution and, vaguely, about sex.
The English instructor is still sitting in the corner with a legal pad in his lap, and a pen in his left hand, looking almost natural, as if his life doesn't include anything besides giving feedback and critiquing--his hand turned awkwardly, as most of us who are lefties do, scribbling away. He looks mad almost, in the classical sense of the word, and genius in the way that we think of geniuses being intense and under the touch of the gods. I often find myself wanting to write to him that "God' had given him his gift, but find it to be inappropriate for these circumstances. Perhaps he holds that there's more chance and luck to life than planned purpose. Plus, assuming God granted you this destiny of becoming a accomplished writer, you are under great distress and stress to fulfill God's plans for yourself--whereas an atheist can simply shrug at the compliments, and believe that the world determines our outcome, and therefore feel aptly powerless to do better. While many Christians will say that God gave them blessings, fewer still believe that He placed any special attention to making it happen. If God is all-powerful, then He must be removed from the plights of man, as being a caring God cripples His perspective, and narrows it. One man's suffering means another man's gain. Who is more important? The Christian? Ha.
Someone in the group says, "...business to come."
"No pun intended," the English instructor snaps.
I let out a cross between a giggle and a short, sturdy laugh. I didn't even catch that, I think to myself.
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