by Kenneth Clay
I fucking hate absinthe. Terrible, terrible, high. If you drink too much. I had some the night before and rather enjoyed it. But it was just a quarter shot. The next night I drank a quarter and realized it wasn’t enough to hallucinate. You never try to...
by Kenneth Clay
The streets of Seattle always rained, though Irwin never cared. Some people did. Some people cried about it. The thing was that Alcoholics Anonymous was four blocks away and he didn’t like driving in Seattle. So with an umbrella and a cigarette in his mouth, he...
