James Newman > James's Quotes

“After a few months in my parents' basement, I took an apartment near the state university, where I discovered both crystal methamphetamine and conceptual art. Either one of these things are dangerous, but in combination they have the potential to destroy entire civilizations.”
― David Sedaris , Me Talk Pretty One Day

“Thou shalt not be such a shit, you don't know you are one.”
― William S. Burroughs

“JAMES HALE sat at a side-street noodle-stall. The stall was set-up underneath the shade of a row of fruit trees. He watched a pair of pigeons courting beneath a fig tree. The male’s tail feathers were pushed up in self-promotion and his plumage was arrogantly puffed up. He danced his elaborate dance of love. The female didn’t look impressed. She turned her back to him. Birds were like gangster rappers, Hale thought. They sang songs about how tough they were and how many other birds they’d nested. They were egomaniacs with inferiority complexes. Posers in a leafy street. The bastards flew at the first sign of danger. They couldn’t make it on the ground. Hale hated birds with their merry chirps and their flimsy nests. Tweet. Tweet. Fucking. Tweet. The only thing Hale admired about them was the fact that they could fly. That would be cool. Right now, flying would be good.”
― James A. Newman, Bangkok express

“Hale looked at the dead man. His baseball cap had fallen from what remained of his head. A head that was once bald beneath that baseball cap. That didn’t matter now. All that remained was meat. Hale guessed that’s all they ever were. Meat. Selfish and stupid animals. The trick was to be the one standing. Hale stepped over the dead man. Walked through the beaded curtain. Through the restaurant out the door and into the China Town circus.”
― James A. Newman, Bangkok express

“The alcohol danced down his throat like a contented snake on the way to a magic ball... The lights seemed suddenly brighter... He felt an immediate sense of danger... Electricity... Fear... Excitement... The glass left his lips he needed another. He needed ten, twenty, thirty more...
He needed rivers, seas, oceans...
He swore under his breath. Somewhere a woman laughed and a man shouted... He looked at the stage. Temptresses dancing... Strange Northern music.... Whores... laws... violence...”
― James A. Newman, Bangkok express

“As things stand now, I am going to be a writer. I'm not sure that I'm going to be a good one or even a self-supporting one, but until the dark thumb of fate presses me to the dust and says 'you are nothing', I will be a writer.”
― Hunter S. Thompson, Gonzo

“The only thing I know about books, is that they should be like a woman's dress: long enough to cover the subject and short enough to be interesting. I read people.”
― James A. Newman, Red Night Zone - Bangkok City

“Like raindrops, beautiful women were every-where. Like raindrops, only a few ever landed on you. They would either soak into your constitution or drip away into that puddle of other former love disasters drying out; dying in the Bangkok sun.
Red Night Zone - Bangkok City”
― James A. Newman

“No doubt I shall go on writing, stumbling across tundras of unmeaning, planting words like bloody flags in my wake. Loose ends, things unrelated, shifts, nightmare journeys, cities arrived at and left, meetings, desertions, betrayals, all manner of unions, adulteries, triumphs, defeats…these are the facts.”
― Alexander Trocchi

“As a young child I wanted to be a writer because writers were rich and famous. They lounged around Singapore and Rangoon smoking opium in a yellow pongee silk suit. They sniffed cocaine in Mayfair and they penetrated forbidden swamps with a faithful native boy and lived in the native quarter of Tangier smoking hashish and languidly caressing a pet gazelle.”
― William S. Burroughs, The Adding Machine: Selected Essays

“The problem was you had to keep choosing between one evil or another, and no matter what you chose, they sliced a little bit more off you, until there was nothing left. At the age of 25 most people were finished. A whole god-damned nation of assholes driving automobiles, eating, having babies, doing everything in the worst way possible, like voting for the presidential candidates who reminded them most of themselves. I had no interests. I had no interest in anything. I had no idea how I was going to escape. At least the others had some taste for life. They seemed to understand something that I didn't understand. Maybe I was lacking. It was possible. I often felt inferior. I just wanted to get away from them. But there was no place to go.”
― Charles Bukowski

“If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot.”
― Stephen King

“Sometimes being a bitch is all a woman's got to hold on to.”
― Stephen King, Dolores Claiborne

“He searched her face for the hint of compassion. It wasn’t there. She had never written a word of fiction in her life. Why should she? She was a living and breathing erotic fantasy. She had spoken many words of fiction. She had told men that she had loved them. She had told them she hadn’t. Any man would quite happily build a house around her hourglass curves in less than fifty thousand words.”
― James A. Newman, Lizard City

“From the small of her back, up to her shoulder blades, a delicate yet extravagant piece created, no doubt, by one of the monks at one of the temples. These images were supposed to warn away evil spirits, and he thought for a moment, that perhaps she considered him potentially evil. Tigers danced, dragons spun, spirits half human, half demon climbed across her reaching up to the palace where a wizard with four arms and long cascades of hair stood before a castle atop a mountain, smoke rose from crematoriums inside the castle. An imagined lost city, an astonishing universe...”
― James A. Newman, The White Flamingo

“One day, The road came. The road brought with it beer and cigarettes. The road brought Coca-Cola and disposable razors. The road brought all the wonderful things that we westerners know and hold close. But where did the road go? A few of the younger men decided to find out. They rode a buffalo cart along the road until they came to a town and then a train station. They hid in a bunch of rice sacks and took the train to the city, to the lights, to the jobs. There was this thing called money, with it you could buy stuff. You could gamble, drink, and be merry. After a period of two years, one of the young men returned to the village driving a new car. He showed the villagers all the beautiful things that he had bought. He said that there was work for everyone in the cities. He took another young man and two young women with him. They were pretty in a rural way and very hungry for money. Money was good. They liked it. It was a great adventure.”
― James A. Newman, The White Flamingo

“Anson looked searchingly at her. His eyes moved over her body. He thought: you meet a woman and she starts a chemical reaction in you. You think there is no one like her in the world, then something happens, and it is finished. She means less to me now than the used plate after a good meal, and how little can that be?”
― James Hadley Chase, Tell It To The Birds

“People think that talking is a sign of thinking. It isn't, for the most part' on the contrary, it's a mechanical dodge of the body to relieve oneself of the strain of thinking, just as exercising the muscles helps the body to become temporarily unconscious of its weight, its pain, its weariness, and the foreknowledge of its doom.”
― Aleister Crowley, Diary of a Drug Fiend

“Hit one on the wrist and lay back on the bed. Warmth rushed up the back of his thighs and then his spine radiated his entire body with warm relief. A rose garden at dawn, wild strawberries and a girl with freckles, her parents did something vaguely artistic and were on the elementary school committee. Years later the sun setting over a carp filled lake. Sad piano music in an empty house and a sudden memory of being alone in a dark room with a framed picture of a bearded man above the bed. The picture terrified him as a child lay in bed at night. He never slept well. That beard, those eyes.
Later he found out it was Christ.”
― James A. Newman, The White Flamingo

“Tell the truth once and for all and shut up forever.”
― William S. Burroughs

“Common sense is the guy who tells you that you ought to have had your brakes relined last week before you smashed a front end this week. Common sense is the Monday morning quarterback who could have won the ball game if he had been on the team. But he never is. He's high up in the stands with a flask on his hip. Common sense is the little man in a grey suit who never makes a mistake in addition. But it's always someone else's money he's adding up.”
― Raymond Chandler, Playback

“I've always felt that distant train whistles heard in the dead of night are the universe's way of letting us know the best days are neither ahead nor behind us...they're happening right now, cradled in the palms of our hands. But that doesn't change the fact that the whiskey, weed, and romance eventually runs out and the night will soon turn to day.”
― Dave Matthes, Sleepeth Not, the Bastard

“To be left alone is the most precious thing one can ask of the modern world.”
― Anthony Burgess, Homage to QWERT YUIOP: Essays

“If you expect the worst from a person you can never be disappointed.”
― Anthony Burgess, The Wanting Seed

“The hotel was guest-friendly with hourly rates and had enough room to swing a cat, if it were a small cat and you wanted to swing it.”
― James A. Newman, Red Night Zone - Bangkok City

“I wrote about the Thai sex industry and people ask me how many bar-girls I slept with. I've just completed a short story about a High School shooting but nobody thinks I shot anyone.”
― Matt Carrell, Thai Lottery... and Other Stories from Pattaya, Thailand

“They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.”
― Philip Larkin, High Windows

“A paranoid is someone who knows a little of what's going on. A psychotic is a guy who's just found out what's going on.”
― William S. Burroughs