Hank is sitting with his Aunt Ruth, telling her about the mental institution he is in, in Ohio.
Most of the time I keep to myself. Most of the time I sit in my room. I’ve got a roommate but most of the time he’s got his face to the wall. Most of the time I think about not being there. I think what it would be like to be someone else. Someone I see on the TV or in a magazine, or even walking free on the grounds. They can keep me as long as they want. It’s not like a prison term. I’ve already been there longer than most. A lot of the time I think about getting this house with all this land around it. And I’d get a bunch of dogs, no little ones you might step on but big dogs, like a horse, and I’d let them run wild. They’d never know a leash. And I’d build a go-cart track on my property. Charge people to race around on it. Those places pull in the bucks. I’d be raking it in. And nobody would know where I was. I’d be gone. Most of the time I just want to be someplace else.
Scott McPherson. Marvin’s Room. New York: Dramatists Play Service Inc., 1993, pp. 47.