The “artist” is an aspiring playwright and an aspiring drunk, which is very different from being a paper waster and an alcoholic…he hopes desperately and tells himself often.

(there is a knock on the door)

Stuart:  Yes.Detective:  Are you Stuart?  It’s Detective Jones, can you open the door please?

S:  How do I know you’re a detective?
D:  You can look through the peephole at my badge.
S:  The door doesn’t have a peep hole.
D:  You can open the door with the chain on.
S:   The door doesn’t have a chain.
D:  Open the door Mr. Caldwell.
(he does and the detective walks in)
D:  So you’re a playwright?
S:  I’m an aspiring playwright.
D:  What’s the difference?
S:  A door with a peephole and a chain.

He lives somewhere and eats somewhere and drinks somewhere and writes somewhere and sleeps somewhere and does it all mostly in Manhattan and has for twenty years.

He gets on.