This is a raw depiction of life for the drug-addicted narrator and his equally wired friends, with a real feeling of honesty and loathing for their toxic lifestyle. The dialogue has a ring of truth and experience which makes the hollow despair more heartfelt. Relentlessly emotional with the occasional funny riff and stabbing shard of hope.
I had the day off from work the next day, so I hitched a ride into San Francisco with Lincoln. Living with the three of them, someone was always going into the city when I wanted to, which was good because I was finding that I disliked driving more every day. Neither of us had slept. Lincoln’s hands gripped the wheel, white knuckled. It was 11AM and it was high time that I started drinking. I looked down at the water as we drove over the Bay Bridge. I thought about drowning myself. The thought pleased me.