I cant drink with people in this town anymore, savages. Went to the shit hole bar for last “who wants to fuck”, and My pal asked this lady if she’s been running on the treadmill lately. I said to him, what the fuck did you just say? She looked at me and said, Andrew, you don’t even know who you are. I was like, what? I walked home. I’m playing guitar and going to bed and getting up and writing. Something good will happen. Or I will die.
Getting my drink on
The End
Adventures In American Writing 