it is all ash and dry leaves and grief gone like an ocean liner.

I would be married, but I'd have no wife, I would be married to a single life.

Where did all the women come from? The supply was endless. Each one of them was individual, different. Their pussies were different, their kisses were different, their breasts were different, but no man could drink them all, there were too many of them, crossing their legs, driving men mad. What a feast!

Belane, are you nuts?" Who knows? Insanity is comparative. Who sets the norm?

The pest, in a sense, is a very superior being to us: he knows where to find us and how--usually in the bath or in sexual intercourse or asleep.

That's your response to everything: drink?" "No, that's my response to nothing.

I write right off the typer. I call it my "machinegun." I hit it hard, usually late at night while drinking wine and listening to classical music on the radio and smoking mangalore ganesh beedies.