yes, Wagner and the storm intermix with the wine as nights like this run up my wrists and up into my head and back down into the gut

and now sometimes I'm interviewed, they want to hear about life and literature and I get drunk and hold up my cross-eyed, shot, runover de-tailed cat and I say,"look, look at this!" but they don't understand, they say something like,"you say you've been influenced by Celine?" no," I hold the cat up,"by what happens, by things like this, by this, by this!

Wherever the crowd goes run in the other direction. They're always wrong.

There are only two things wrong with money: too much or too little.

Thanksgiving. It proved you had survived another year with its wars, inflation, unemployment, smog, presidents. It was a grand neurotic gathering of clans: loud drunks, grandmothers, sisters, aunts, screaming children, would-be suicides. And don't forget indigestion. I wasn't different from anyone else: There sat the 18-pound bird on my sink, dead, plucked, totally disemboweled. Iris would roast it for me.

We are like roses that have never bothered to bloom when we should have bloomed and it is as if the sun has become disgusted with waiting

I walked around the block twice, passed 200 people and failed to see a human being.