guerreotype

We'll be in Mexico tonight. Pack a razor, pack some glue. Things fall apart off the track, and that's where we'll be, baby, in our Mambo Cadillac,      cause you're looking for love, but I'm looking for a wreck.

Anything so innocent and built like that just gotta be named Lucille.

note

new orleans

He lay quietly, oppressed by a sense of a dwindling life, of his youth dwindling away as he rested beside a woman he should have never known, here so far off the course he knew should have been his that he wondered with panic if it had been lost forever. He could feel no love, and the anguish of a life without it was greater now than when he had lived alone. Then at least there had been the anticipation; now, though there were comforts, there was no hope except in eventual escape, and of that he did not feel capable. ...Sometimes after Oma had gone to bed he stayed up with the light out and continued drinking by the open window, through which the warm September air, faint music, voices, the sound of shattering glass, the hum of cars and rumble of trucks entered with flashes of light that played over the sleeping form under the sheet, and he felt the guilt of inaction, of simply waiting while his life went to waste. No one was worth the gift of his life, no one could possibly be worth that. It belonged to him alone and he did not deserve it either, because he was letting it waste. It was getting away from him and he made no effort to stop it. He did not know how. He fought urges to hurl his tumbler out the window. The chair he sat on smashed in his mind against the wall. Yearning for struggle and release, he felt he had to fight, as he had felt years before when he had come home from the army to begin his life and confronted the fact there was nothing he wanted to do.

state of me

The Godfather Epic

He was a layman in the wings of a vast cathedral, waiting for his cue to step into the light.

Fargo

R+L=J

bloodline