Adam Engel, believing that ANYONE can wind up the star of a Reality TV-show at any time, and fearing he might be next (“A paranoid is someone who knows a little about what’s going on,” quoth William Burroughs), fled to Belize, where he and his somewhat older but still vigorous—not to mention “clean and sober”—business partner, Jim Morrison, run a small used bookstore.
At one time, Adam Engel wrote this of himself:
He was once sixteen and roamed tree-lined streets and wide green schoolyards under cerulean suburban skies. He believed he was Shelley, and that his tiny girlfriend, who worked in a shoe-store, was Mary Shelley. Now he is probably only you, or someone you know. Who knows, really? He could be anyone, maybe even me. . . But he is no longer Shelley, nor will he ever know Mary again.
And then, at another time, this:
Adam Engel grew up in Jericho, Long Island. About twenty-five years after that, he finished his first masterpiece, Topiary, a Novel. Corpse is his second. He is working on a third. He’d probably get along reasonably well with your mother, but hate your father, due to unresolved conflicts that have nothing to do with current realities.