[Standing outside a bar in Oakland talking with a friend of a friend, A.]
A: I'm more of a whiskey drinker.
Me: Not me. That's my sad bastard drink.
A: What do you mean? Really?
Me: I'm serious! I have a couple whiskeys and I'm curled in a fetal position on the floor and I'm all like, "My life is meaningless! There's no point to going on!"
A: (laughs) No way. I can't even imagine that.
Me: It's true! (goes on for effect) "We're all alone! There is no God!"
A: I don't think I believe you. I can't even imagine you being sad.
Me: (stops cold) What?
A: Yeah, I can't even picture you sad at all. Every time I look at you you're smiling.