I met a genius on the train today about 6 years old, he sat beside me and as the train ran down along the coast we came to the ocean and then he looked at me and said, it’s not pretty.

Getting drunk was good. I decided that I would always like getting drunk. It took away the obvious and maybe if you could get away from the obvious often enough, you wouldn't become so obvious yourself.

When you drank the world was still out there, but for the moment it didn’t have you by the throat.

Great art is horseshit, buy tacos.

The years have gone by quickly. Death sits in the seat next to me. We make a lovely couple.

I don't remember going to bed, but in the morning, there I was.

I remember when each 4th lot was vacant and overgrown, and the landlord only go this rent when you had it, and each day was clear and good and each moment was full of promise.