the person who wanted to play but could not bear to play. To want the microphone but to stand in the back. To know there is a book in you but to never find the nerve to wrestle it out. I was so screwed up on the issue of performance. It’s like I didn’t want anyone to hear me, but I couldn’t shut up. Or rather, I wanted everyone to hear me, but only

Tilting the wide brim of a martini glass toward the sky to catch whatever plunked into it.

But I wanted my own stories, and I understood drinking to be the gasoline of all adventure. The best evenings were the ones you might regret.

That was the worst sin of all: trying too hard.

Tilting the wide brim of a martini glass toward the sky to catch whatever plunked into it.

As much as my father was there during my childhood, he was also not there.

Cramming food into my mouth brought a rush of rebellion, but I was never sure who I was fighting.

Surrounded by a land of plenty, I couldn’t shake the notion that what I had been given was not enough. So I “borrowed” clothes from other people’s closets. I had an ongoing scam with the Columbia Record & Tape Club

Sobriety has a way of sorting out your friendships. They begin to fall into two categories: people you feel comfortable being yourself with—and everyone else.