George Roast
Bio
I occasionally write little things to let my mind rest from the rush of days — to keep myself from going insane, to improve this hobby of mine and my english.
Stories (2)
Filter by community
Real men drink, right?
He has a problem. He’s felt it for years now, but he refuses to face it. He doesn’t want to admit it, to himself or to the people around him. All his heroes were the same. He likes to recall the scene where James Bond sits in a dusty pub in Latin America, a glass of whiskey in hand, his gaze fixed on a scorpion crawling across the bar. When he first fell for literature, it was Post Office and Women, which he read over and over again. Without those cans of beer and bottles of cheap whiskey, Bukowski’s work wouldn’t have been so raw, so honest. Even Vaclav Havel spent most of his nights in Prague bars; without that, he wouldn’t have been who he was. Those were the real men.
By George Roastabout 2 hours ago in Writers
Knives and Forks
Alright, it’s enough, I’m not going to fall asleep anyway, and I can’t stand another hour of staring at this ceiling. Thoughts just drift through my mind, and from all this lying around, my calves start to cramp again. At least I slept through most of yesterday. Paying that debt I built with lifestyle. That helps. With that, I can push through today until the evening, as I did so many times before. I blame her for it anyway. It was definitely her who tore me out of my dreams at half past two in the morning. She did it, and now she’s pretending that nothing happened.
By George Roastabout 2 hours ago in Writers
