Dere’s no guy
Livin’
That knows Brooklyn
Because it’d
Take a lifetime
Just to find
His way
Around the fucking town
What do you do when you’ve washed out of:
The cops?
The priesthood?
You do.
Drugs
And
Jameson.
I was in such a state of despair that I drank Protestant whiskey.
Black Bushmills.
I drowned myself in the Hasid area of Williamsburg. Something about the fundamental neighborhood of Hebrew conversation spoke to the hellfire basis of my Catholicism.
Does that make sense?
Only if you apply Irish logic with Brooklynese riding point.