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“I’m not a vagrant, Finlay,” I said. “I’m a hobo. Big difference.”
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” she asked me. “Sure,” I said. “Great. No cream, no sugar.”
You got to imagine your memory is like an old bucket, you know? Once it’s filled up with old stuff there ain’t no way to get new stuff in. No way at all, you understand? So I don’t remember any new stuff because my old bucket is all filled up with old stuff that happened way back. You understand what I’m saying here?”
Like when people say they slept like a baby. Do they mean they slept well? Or do they mean they woke up every ten minutes, screaming?
