starving in a Philadelphia winter trying to be a writer I wrote and wrote and drank and drank and drank and then stopped writing and concentrated on the drinking.It was another art-form.If you can’t have any luck with one thing you try another.Of course, I had been practicing on the drinking-form since the age of 15.and there was much competition in that field also.It was a world full of drunks and writers and drunk writers.And so I became a starving drunk instead of a starving writer.The best thing was the instant result. And I soon became the biggest and best drunk in the neighborhood and maybe the whole city.It sure as hell beat sitting around waiting for those rejection slips from The New Yorker and The Atlantic Monthly.Of course, I never really considered quitting the writing game, I just wanted to give it a ten year rest figuring if I got famous too early I wouldn’t have anything left for the stretch run like I have now, thank you,with the drinking still thrown in.
