Harry Hope's Saloon

This blog takes it's name from the setting for O'Neill's The Iceman Cometh -- a lousy gin-mill; a smoked-out, greasy dive where the habitues have all landed, it seems, permanently. Their lives, in each case, are paralyzed by fear and laziness. Like my own.

Wednesday, September 08, 2004


I'm dying. Maybe in a few minutes. Probably not that soon. But I'm dying. And all I can do is sit here typing.


At 6:41 PM, Blogger J. Goard said...

Start writing my eulogy man, and I'll start writing yours. Each of us has pretty close to a 50% chance of delivering it, and how often do you get those odds?


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