Who I'd Like to Meet: A failed composer. A writer without a script. A bedless child. A visionless psychiatrist.
* Pg. 84:
"So there he goes... and here I am, with no attorney, slumped on a red plastic stool in Wild Bill's Tavern, nervously sipping a Budweiser in a bar just coming awake to an early morning rush of pimps and pinball hustlers... with a huge Red Shark just outside the door so full of felonies that I'm afraid to even look at it.
But I can't abandon the fucker. The only hope is to somehow get it across three hundred miles of open road between here and Sanctuary. But, sweet Jesus, I am tired! I'm scared. I'm crazy. This culture has beaten me down. What the fuck am I doing out here? This is not even the story I was supposed to be working on. My agent warned me against it. All signs were negative - especially that evil Dwark with the pink telephone in the Polo Lounge. I should have stayed there... anything but this.
Aaaww... Mama
can this really be the end?
No!
Who played that song? Did I actually hear that fucking thing on the jukebox just now? At 9:19 on this filthy grey morning in Wild Bill's Tavern?
No. That was only in my brain, some long-lost echo of a painful dawn in Toronto... a long time ago, half-mad in another world... but no different.
HELP!
How many more nights and weird mornings can this terrible shit go on? How long can the body and the brain tolerate this doom-struck craziness? This grinding of teeth, this pouring of sweat, this pounding of blood in the temples... small blue veins gone amok in front of the ears, sixty and seventy hours with no sleep..."
* Maybe I was meant to be a little bird - no, maybe a little object. Just an object. Like glass, perhaps polycarbonate. (Impact strength: Unnotched polycarbonate is virtually unbreakable, making it extremely safe in areas where parts may be exposed to impact. When exposed to repeated heavy blow, the material tends to cold form rather than shatter.) Unbreakable. Breakable? Shopkeeper lenient -- you break it, you don't buy it. Stays here.