That’s the problem with drinking, I thought, as I poured myself a drink. If something bad happens you drink in an attempt to forget; if something good happens you drink in order to celebrate; and if nothing happens you drink to make something happen.
Arlene was sitting in the pink reading chair reading the afternoon paper. “You say five thousand women want to sleep with you. Where does that leave me?”
“Five thousand and one.”
— Charles Bukowski, Less Delicate Than the Locust
(Source: busty-stclairebear)
The only time a man needed a lot of women was when none of them were any good. A man could lose his identity fucking around too much.
Just being alive was a victory.
Lydia looked good. The light came through the curtains and shone on her.
She had an orange in her hand and was tossing it into the air. The orange spun though the sunlit morning.
