I’ve been really lucky, and it’s probably not sufficient to say that for every supposed success, you have — it’s underlaid by dozens of imagined failures of the very same thing, but maybe that’s just too cute. But in a sense Keely’s failures are perhaps informed by my own anxieties, and also I guess by my observations of friends and comrades, people are coming apart around you all the time, and how you’re often helpless to do anything about that.1 I mean Keely is only two steps away from any of us, who are doing okay. You just need a few things. Like Scully in The Riders, you just need a couple of things in a row to go badly enough for you, and you’ve gone from a happy life to having — to living a nightmare.2 And I guess that’s the thing. When you’re lucky or things break your way, to somehow make this foolish assumption that you deserve it, that it’s somehow related to virtue or it’s somehow related to — that it seems natural, a kind of a dangerous idea. I think we often find incredibly convenient ways to normalize and naturalize our good fortune and to explain away other people’s misfortune.