— I can't stand people. I hate them.
— Oh, yeah?
— You hate them?
— No, but I seem to feel better when they're not around.
Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must live.
— It was next door 308, two ambulance guys carried him out. He'd been knifed.
— Was he alive?
— He must have been, he was smoking a cigarette.
I was naturally a loner, content just to live with a woman, eat with her, sleep with her, walk down the street with her. I didn't want conversation, or to go anywhere except the racetrack or the boxing matches. I didn't understand t.v. I felt foolish paying money to go into a movie theatre and sit with other people to share their emotions. Parties sickened me. I hated the game-playing, the dirty play, the flirting, the amateur drunks, the bores.