good morning. i am tired. reading hemingway makes me want to cry from how beautiful it is. it makes me so sad when i love a writer and i found out that they killed themselves. i think a lot of other writers would be with me on this. it is hard to think of these people as mentors and then they go and blow their heads off or stick them into ovens or drug or drink themselves to death, etc etc. there really is no relation between the art and the person. which is kinda sad but also good, i guess.