Home is where you hang your hangover.
When I finally caught up with Abraham Trahearne, he was drinking beer with an alcoholic bulldog named Fireball Roberts in a ramshackle joint just outside of Sonoma, California, drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon.
Consideration touches more deeply and longer than passion.
I try to stay two drinks ahead of reality and three behind a drunk
I had done either too much coke or too little, a constant problem in my life.
I have learned some things. Modern life is warfare without end: take no prisoners, leave no wounded, eat the dead--that's environmentally sound.
I knew the men were probably terrible people who whistled at pretty girls, treated their wives like servants, and voted for Nixon every chance they got, but as far as I was concerned, they beat the hell out of a Volvo-load of liberals for hard work and good times.
Youth endures all things, kings and poetry and love. Everything but time.
Lady bartenders live a tougher life than anybody knows. -- Dancing Bear
...the sun rose each morning to stare into my face with the blank but touching gaze of a lovely retarded child.
Maybe I will go to Paris.
Who knows? But I’ll sure as hell never
Go back to Texas again
The only person more cynical than a drunk is a reformed drunk.
There's no accounting for laws. Or the changes wrought by men and time.
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