some nights i cannot bear to be so alone. this was one of them. you get to a certain age and you realise that you have been spending your working years on life-support being transfused against loneliness and only pretending to be alive. and except for the occasional tabloid photographer, nobody is really looking as you get into your car, your fabulous car, already to drunk to drive, and you drive into a bar where nobody knows you, so that you can listen in on the other people who don't have to be there alone. all of this can happen in your hometown. it can happen to anyone.

elliot perlman, seven types of ambiguity.