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another, but from the age of twenty-three to thirty-five I stopped writing creatively.Writing was always the goal of experience—traveling to forty countries, learning several foreign languages, spending eight years overseas. I kept a journal in the UAE and you could count that as a book. If I didn’t write, I compensated by reading. I read compulsively.
    DAVID: How old are you now?
    CALEB: Forty-three.
    DAVID: So what is your larger point?
    CALEB: Just that I think you’re partly right: writing is so hard, you can’t compromise. Sometimes I wish I’d chosen art. I submit to a lit mag and a grad student editor half my age tells me I’m backing into sentences with too many subjunctive clauses.

    DAVID: You remind me at times of my college friend Azzan, who was born in Israel, grew up in Queens. Big man on campus: walked around with a khaki-colored, military-looking jacket and a purposeful stride. Compared to the other intellectuals at Brown, he seemed so assured. A ladies’ man, a year or two older. I admired him, even idolized him to a degree. He always said he was going to become a writer. He spent junior year abroad, had a torrid affair in Paris. Got a Rhodes scholarship and at Oxford focused mainly on boxing. He went here, went there, was always saying, “Oh, I’m just gathering material for my great novel.You can’t write without living your life.” I’ve always thought it was his mistake, substituting experience for writing, but maybe it’s my mistake. Maybe he didn’t really want to be a writer in the first place. He’s nearly sixty now and now he’s ready to write, but it’s too late for him to become a serious writer.
    CALEB: What are you trying to say?
    DAVID: Your writing is interesting, and getting more so, but—
    CALEB: It could be better.
    DAVID: It’s stuff you should have been doing twenty years ago.

    DAVID:
The Trip
was originally six half-hour episodes on BBC, which later got edited down into a two-hour movie. I much prefer the show, but this is the movie—hope you like it.
    Steve Coogan: Hey, Rob, Steve.… Are you free?…
    Rob Brydon: Why me?
    Steve: Well Mischa is unavailable. You’ve met Mischa, haven’t you?… I’ve asked other people, but they’re all too busy. So, you know, do you wanna come?… There’s a small fee, which I’ll split with you, sixty-forty
.
    â€¢ • •
    Rob: It’s 2010. Everything’s been done before. All you can do is do something someone’s done before but do it better or differently
.
    Steve: To some extent, that’s correct
.
    DAVID: To some extent, that’s incorrect. If I believed that, I’d slit my wrists.
    CALEB: I agree. Nothing is exactly the same. Every work of art is both original and influenced by other works. You want this flip at the end, like at the end of Wallace and Lipsky, but maybe I come out of this more convinced that I’m right and you’re wrong.
    DAVID: Hmm. Not sure we self-consciously say that we’re trying to do all that, do we? Is that gonna work?
    Magda the Hotel Clerk: Sorry, we only have one double room for you
.…
    Rob: We can share, that’s all right
.
    Steve: No we can’t
.…
    Rob: This is a huge bed. We could easily share this bed
.
    Steve: It might be huge to you
.…
    Rob: What’s the problem, anyway? What do you think’s gonna happen?
    â€¢ • •
    Mischa: (on phone with Coogan) You think I’m gonna go to Las Vegas and become a prostitute?
    â€¢ • •
    Rob: (to his wife, Sally, on phone) Could I interest you in some rather salacious … I’m not wearing any pajama bottoms …
    â€¢ • •
    Rob: Don’t you find it exhausting, still running around going to parties and chasing girls at your age?
    Steve: I don’t run around and go to parties. I don’t run around and chase girls
.
    Rob: You