“I could not help but hear the faint clinking of glass containers among the muffled noises… that peculiar, fricative sound of air and liquid. I did not realize that beer produced such a forlorn sobbing.”

– p. 105, The Ruined Map, Kobo Abe

Kobo Abe really harshing my beer-reading buzz.


“The story of man
Makes me sick
Inside, outside,
I dont know why
Something so conditional
And all talk
Should hurt me so.”

– one stanza from Bowery Blues, Jack Kerouac; p.22, from the collection Pomes All Sizes (punctuation as written).