As far as I was concerned, living on the streets was not an insurmountable inconvenience. There were some rough days, before I learned the ins and outs of soup kitchens and such. But once I hooked into picking up cans at a nickel a pop, I couldn't even be bothered with that cattle-call ordeal. By now they were familiar with my freestyle way of thinking when I'm drinking, and apparently they find that endearing, whereas you just find it weird. In America only the successful writer is important, in France all writers are important, in England no writer is important and in Australia you have to explain what a writer is.
Some editors are failed writers, but so are most writers.
The thief who is in prison is not necessarily more dishonest than his fellows at large, but mostly one who, through ignorance or stupidity, steals in a way that is not customary. He snatches a loaf from the baker's counter and is promptly run in gaol. Whenever you find that you are on the side of the majority, it is time to reform. Leaving her bitter-sweet memories, she travels west, past Guy Street, and slowly wends her way past Victorian mansions now reaking of shabby gentility until she reaches Atwater. Once west of the city limits, she loses herself in middle-class squalor.