21 years old, disillusioned with college for now, and instead have gone somewhere, ceaselessly searching for whatever it is that keeps stirring up the compounding cravings that my dead aunts and uncles left in my chest.

“Boy, it began to rain like a bastard. In buckets, I swear to God. All the parents and mothers and everybody went over and stood right under the roof of the carrousel, so they wouldn’t get soaked to the skin or anything, but I stuck around on the bench for quite a while. I got pretty soaking wet, especially my neck and my pants. My hunting hat really gave me quite a lot of protection, in a way; but I got soaked anyway. I didn’t care, though. I felt so damn happy all of a sudden, the way old Phoebe kept going around and around. I was damn near bawling, I felt so damn happy, if you want to know the truth. I don’t know why. It was just that she looked so damn nice, the way she kept going around and around, in her blue coat and all. God, I wish you could’ve been there.”

“I simply state that I’m a product of a versatile mind in a restless generation–with every reason to throw my mind and pen in with the radicals.”