When reality looks too ugly, fantasize.
Yes, I am a pirate, two hundred years to late. Cannons don't thunder, there's nothing to plunder, I'm an over forty victim of fate.
We're just recycled history machines, cavemen in faded blue jeans.
Breathe in, breathe out, move on.
later down the road of life, i made the discovery that salt water was also good for the mental abrasions one inevitably acquires on land.
That to me is the way any good romantic would look at his life: Live it first, then write it down before you go.