Jimmie would forever be the Renaissance humanist, bearing his faith and optimism like a white light inside a chalice.
A wet cigarette butt clung to my cheek like a mashed cockroach. I could smell whiskey and beer in my clothes and Gable’s blood on my knuckles and I swore I could taste whiskey surging out of my stomac...
A man is what he does. Titles are a distraction created to deceive obtuse people.
This is Louisiana, Dave. Guatemala North. Quit pretending it’s the United States. Life will make a lot more sense, he said.