My life ain’t so hot / But I’m past the point of caring / About all the things / I ain’t got. Sitting on the tailgate of a pickup and haggling over squash was simple compared to, oh, writing a book. Sam Maitlin tended to ruminate on the simple pleasures while he waited on …
Nightrider's Lament
"Why do they [write] for their money? Why do they [work] for short pay? They ain't getting nowhere and they're losing their share. They must have gone crazy back there." — Michael Burton (paraphrased)
Nightrider's Lament 