What are you? A man with a rope? Ha-ha.

I contemplate the notion that maybe regrets are a process of accumulation of time, as unavoidable as a closet full of clothes and more bags of them in the attic. Is accumulated baggage what makes people get old? If so, they need to clean out their fecking attics, send the stuff to consignment shops and remember how to walk around naked like kids, little bellies sticking out, always ready for a good laugh.

I'm a bartender. I like recipes. They're concretes. Was the drink recipe for seduction one shot charm and two shots self-deception, shaken, not stirred?

Silence isn't golden, it's deadly. It's a vacuum that fills up with ghosts.

How do you kill a vampire?"-Mac "Hope hes not"-Barrons

I wondered what one wore to visit a vampire. The chic red sweater set didn't go so well with my darker hair, and I was afraid it might be construed as a flirtatious invitation to color me bloodier.

Gwen Cassidy needed a man. Desperately. Failing that, she'd settle for a cigarette.