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He knew this well enough himself. In one anecdote, he brilliantly re-creates a scene at the Dome cafe, where the doomed painter Pascin is drinking with two model-tarts or tart-models. "He grinned with his hat on the back of his head. He looked more like a Broadway character of the '90s than the lovely painter that he was, and afterwards, when he had hanged himself, I liked to remember him as he was that night at the Dome. They say the seeds of what we do are in all of us, but it always seemed to me that in those who make jokes in life the seeds are covered with better soil and with a higher grade of manure."
Is this a man writing the obituary of another man or his own?