Forthcoming from Future Tense: Legs Get Led Astray by Chloe Caldwell
Future Tense has announced their first title for 2012—Legs Get Led Astray by Chloe Caldwell.
Legs Get Led Astray is a full-length collection of creative non-fiction. The connective threads throughout the book are love, relationships, obsession. The title alludes to getting lost looking for something that doesn’t exist: the perfect place to live, the perfect desk to write at, the perfect person to love, the perfect person to sleep with. There is no perfect anything and this compilation is about Caldwell coming to these realizations.
Pre-orders start at the end of the year but it is never too early to get excited about an interesting young writer. A couple excerpts from the book are below and you might also enjoy Chloe’s essay, at The Rumpus, a really moving piece about where she writes.
Excerpt: He Doesn’t Know Your Birthday
Cape Cod. January. You didn’t know they made beds this big. You’re wearing plaid boxers and a t-shirt that says “African Beer” and he’s wearing package-enhancing boxers. Last night when you were fucking he said he felt like Jesus with a halo around his head and you said you couldn’t feel your feet. The second night of course, goes to shit. You talk about how the relationship is toxic. He cries in an honest way you’ve never seen. You’re scared. He is eager to show you the documentary “Cruise” by Timothy “Speed” Levitch. You fall asleep. In the morning he makes you French toast.
**
He meets you at a bar on Second Avenue. It’s late March and air makes you horny and brave. You fuck in the bathroom. You sit on him while he sits on the toilet and you pull your black tights down and he says he never saw anyone pull their tights down so fast and you come in one minute. He knows your vagina like the back of his hand but sometimes you wonder if he even knows your birthday.
**
In April you wear an Indian headdress and happily let cocaine run through your veins. You tell the woman you are buying cocaine from that you are on your way to your first orgy. She lends you a red dress. You walk to Lucy’s Bar on Avenue A and pound two whiskey sodas. You walk up the stairs to his apartment. He does some coke and declares himself the goat prince while he prances around in your headdress and his neon pink American Apparel briefs. You give his brother a blowjob and have sex with his best friend because it turns you both on. You fall asleep when the sun comes up with his hand coiled tight around your neck.
Excerpt: He Doesn’t Know Your Birthday
You are stoned and you are thinking about how you have had four lovers that changed you while living in New York. You met three of them in Brooklyn. You met him in Manhattan. You think this has something to do with everything because you are stoned. The radiator bangs and bings dominating the apartment. It sounds like deer humping, he says, and in your mind, you marvel at his. Only he would come up with something so brilliant. But at this point you know that that is something everyone thinks about the person they love.
You are both very high. It’s eleven a.m. You are both manic by nature. He starts to cry. You start to cry. You panic. You’ve read and re-read The Highly-Sensitive Person In Love. They don’t prepare you for these kinds of mornings that begin with oat bagels and morph into high riding anxiety and tears streaming from four eyes. You decide that when two highly sensitive people in love fuck for three years—a random Thursday comes and they crash. Author Stephen Elliott said something about two people he knew once that weren’t capable of love. They were capable of passion. As Carrie from Sex And The City would say, “I couldn’t help but wonder…”
Today is Thursday and he came into town on Monday. You’ve been drinking Wild Turkey Whiskey since then. You didn’t know Wild Turkey was 101 proof. You feel tricked. Hunter S. Thompson loved Wild Turkey, so did Stephen King, he tells you. Well we are not them, you think. We are us.
He is still crying.
“Man. What’s it like hanging out with rain man?” he asks you. He is speaking slowly. He draws out both “mans.” He is not making a joke. He really wants to know.
Tags: Chloe Caldwell, Future Tense Books, kevin sampsell
this is awful. people actually like this kinda shit? are inspired by it? i’m not Trolling, just completely fucking baffled.
France had their era of unabashed sexually decadent memoirs in the 70s and early 80s; it’s America’s turn.
though to be fair the zeitgeist of late 70s early 80s rich France is far more appealing to me than a 00s/10s ‘hipster’ Brooklyn, i understand that not everyone has the exact same taste as every one else
I’m excited about this!
Looking forward to this. I loved her essay in The Rumpus.
My questions are these:
–With the conspicuous use of the second person, He Doesn’t Know Your Birthday becomes a direct address where the author is making matter-of-fact personal revelations to herself. In this exchange, does the reader have any angle other than that of a voyeur, and if the reader’s voyeuristic interest is directly proportional to the depravity and/or titillation provided by these factual revelations, is the reader actually engaging a form of art?
–Among consenting adults, when it comes to sex in barroom toilets and blowing your boyfriend’s brother, my only issues are sanitary. Can these actions, however, legitimately be contextualized as the search for the “perfect person to love” and the “perfect person to sleep with” or is it perhaps the search for something else entirely?
–In the delivery of forthright non-fiction, should readers be more forgiving of cliche or lazy turns of phrase than they would be in literary fiction or poetry? “He knows your vagina like the back if his hand” might actually be funny if it instead read “the palm of his hand,” but as a descriptor, knowing something like the back of one’s hand is both tired and ineffective – removed from the end of my wrist, I couldn’t pick the back of my hand out of lineup. Letting “cocaine run through your veins” has a similarly nondescript impact. Even ignoring the wishy-washy verb “let,” the least interesting thing any drug does is pass through the bloodstream. What is of interest is how those substances act on specific organs, and readers seeking insight alongside revelation might demand the author dig deeper.
Obviously the post above only contains excerpts of a whole and hopefully that whole does in fact dig deeper, since no matter how well it’s articulated, what you have done is still only what you have done.
I agree Irma. Bit of uninspired prose is all. Reads like it was written in a week or two.
[…] Sampsell always picks the best writers to put out books with on Future Tense. This excerpt for Chloe Caldwell’s forthcoming title, Legs get led Astray, proves no exception to the […]
I liked the Rumpus thing.
I like this, it’s a smile. I don’t know where else it goes. “You talk about how the relationship is toxic.” Is a conversation I would like to hear/read. “Only he would come up with something so brilliant. But at this point you know that that is something everyone thinks about the person they love.” True, what else about idolatry of love? “You fall asleep when the sun comes up with his hand coiled tight around your neck.” Ah, he hates you loves you hates you loves you? I like the title, an automaton.
terrific title, chloe. can’t wait!
I would say no.
I would say likely not.
Saying no (or likely no) while agreeing that:
this sounds like a book written by some one who likes to talk too much. i’m sorry but these excerpts are no more interesting than the back of a cereal box… even your sexcapades and lovers are mundane. you’ve got balls i’ll give you that. but it all seems quite juvenile- drugs and sex? is that really all there is to a starving artsit’s lifestyle? is that all that youth is good for? i’d argue there’s a lot more to self discovery than how you relate to men and how good of a fuck you think you are… it’s almost insulting. i’d like to know what you would you write about if you were a sober and celibate 20-something… would you still have material to put in your memoir?
Just to clear up some confusion–this is from a book of essays. It’s not a memoir (though the essays are true stories). As the editor and publisher of the book, I can tell you that it’s not just sex and drugs. There’s a lot of love (parents, children, New York) and life (traveling, loneliness, music) as well. I would call the book “beautiful” more than I would call it “shocking.” Chloe isn’t writing just to freak people out, she’s writing to connect. If you read her other essays maybe some of the detractors here would see that (are you against memoirs or Chloe, it’s hard to tell).
Not sure I’d be as interested in what a sober and celibate 20-something would write, not sure there are many, what can be perceived as mundane or blank tonal representation is honest, my comment wasn’t piling on, just obsession curiosity.
I’m with Kevin…if you read her Rumpus essay, notice how the words are strung together beautifully to make you remember your own lovely moments and invite yourself into hers– not to shock or brag. Reading Chloe’s work makes me think about my own similar experiences and there is something fantastically universal about that. Do we really need to criticize writers who write about the reality of their lives? Would you feel comfortable telling her to DO something more worthwhile with her time than fuck and snort coke, or just write about something rarer? If her work sounds too much like it was written off-the-cuff or sucking the trite teat, maybe just appreciate it for what it is: a real, live person’s essay version of her own existence. She’s entitled to it, and her current work circulating the Web indicates many readers are responding positively. Put down your hackles, people, and allow a young writer a chance.
Okay, GREAT! But this is all cliche! No? “He knows your vagina like the back of his hand” / “with his hand coiled tight around your neck” / “he never saw anyone pull their tights down so fast and you come in one minute.” And this from a press that publishes Gary Lutz! I don’t think it’s what she is saying, it’s how she’s saying it. Am I being too critical?
Thanks for the comments, Miko. I agree about the ‘back of his hand’ but maybe not the 2nd one and definitely not the 3rd. I’m sure, since we have a few months, Chloe and I will be on full lookout for any kind of cliches that may sneak in. I think you might actually like the end result!
Wow Kevin. That was a wonderful response. Thank-you. Please excuse my negativity. Looking forward.
i’m not against memoirs, i suppose i am against chloe… her subject matter is always the same… i’ve read her other stuff… and i think she’s a great writer. i just don’t understand why all the sex and drugs/drinking, i mean it seems that it’s in unhealthy proporations… i’m interested in why the oversexed lifestyle and drug use, the roots of it all… what is the driving force?
Experience acquisition
Why doesn’t she write about whatever she wants to write about. There might be a drug/sex/searching lit tradition, with just a little Googling.
With you on that as well–the first, yes, but not the second and third. When do we stop reinventing the wheel and simply TELL? Thanks for helping bring a great writer to a wider audience!
The same “force[s]” – the same “roots” – as most other ‘portions’ of most lives: Boredom. Loneliness. Rage, fear. Joy. Grief.
The two knowns that press on one looking at the starry vault: 1) I am tiny. 2) It’s all connected and includes me.
–
I think Guestagain is right: a “blank ton[e]” – small ball-peen taps shaping a codpiece of Agamemnon/Clytemnestra – can communicate as much interiority – or challenge/defy ‘interiority’ – as any style. Simplistically direct address, cliche, grammatical monotony: hard to render interestingly – but that might speak well for a writer’s ambition, eh?
And ‘too much sex and drugs’? – what the joe sam hell.
I think I understand what you and Miko seem to be wary of: tedious and unilluminative titillation. – yes: blech. But, to me, the excerpts above seem as promising as a few paragraphs from most fine books.
i love you chloe
I’m excited about this too.
Sex and drugs are significant experiences in many, many people’s lives and I can think of few activities more interesting where self discovery is concerned than sex. Is there more? Absolutely, but that does not negate the relevance of these kinds of essays. You’re essentially asking what she would write about if she were a different person and that’s strange.
http://www.vipshopper.us
Hi Lauren. Sorry, but I have to disagree. TELL? Everything that there is to tell has already been TOLD. But you’re right, it is in the TELLING.
Ok, I can agree with you that, yes, it is about how you tell, etc. I spend countless classes explaining to my students that how they say something is infinitely more important than what they say, 99% of the time. However, I also think Chloe is a young(er) writer, telling her story and deserves a chance. The “back of his hand” line is something I would probably flag in my students’ work, but Chloe’s not my student; she’s my peer. I would prefer to give her the benefit of the doubt and enjoy her work as a whole before I criticize it. I can’t fault you for desiring innovative and inspired prose, but I would bet that within the pages of “Legs Get Led Astray, we’ll soon find plenty.
Lauren. I don’t know how this happened? But Legs Get Led Astray went from a book I wasn’t going to purchase to a book I plan on reading.
Miko, now I’m smiling. Mostly because I hate conflict (though perhaps I asked for it?), but more importantly because I am sure it’s what all writers deserve: a chance. It makes me hopeful for all of us. Thanks for that.
Chloe’s writing is amazing. And I’m sure everyone–even the haters–will read it, and love it. We’ll be publishing one of her essays soon, too, and are honored to do so.
Congrats, Chloe :)
Hi, everyone, thank you for all of your opinions. Here are a few of my
thoughts:
Back of your/my/his/her hand: Boring and cliché, most
definitely.
Vagina like the back of his hand: I actually remember writing that
sentence and then laughing.
It was humorous to me, because people don’t usually describe
vaginas like that. When we say, “back of your hand” we are usually talking
about something duller. So I thought it would be fun to pair the two—an
overused cliché with the word “vagina.”
But is seems to bother people so, “palm” is a good idea, or maybe
“back of his middle finger.”
He knows your vagina like the back of his middle
finger but sometimes you wonder if he even knows your birthday.
or
He knows your vagina like the back of his cock but
sometimes you wonder if he even knows your birthday.
Maybe those are more accurate, funny, and original.
To mention Stephen Elliott again, he says that we write
certain books to get certain screams out and then we move on. I agree one
hundred percent. Everyone has phases.
But this is not a book about sex and drugs. (Though, to me,
sex is a joyous part of life so it will often be in my writing, yes. Drugs are
mistakes I’ve made sometimes. I don’t feel alone in that.)
“He Doesn’t Know Your Birthday” is 4,030 words and
you have read 600. I chose excerpts I thought you might like. Looks like I was
wrong. It was hard to say. I don’t read HTML Giant comments anymore, because I was uncomfortable with the way people treat one another. It
might be something to think about.
“He Doesn’t Know Your Birthday” is about a highly
dysfunctional relationship with a bipolar man that inevitably broke my heart.
It begins in October and goes through each month of the year with anecdotes
to show why things were clearly fucked. Obviously, if you are fucking in
bathrooms and snorting cocaine it’s not a healthy relationship.
I wrote it in this fast paced way, laid the facts out
and didn’t delve into a ton of detail or exposition because I wanted it to read
lucidly, seeing as I go through the twelve months and it’s pretty lengthy. I am
not sure what I was reading at the time I wrote this, that made me want to try
this style, but apparently, it is not my most well received style. Noted!
The original excerpt for HTML Giant was about playing
LEGOS and bionicles with the boys I baby-sit, but we thought it was too
dialogue heavy. Like Kevin said, my book is very much about my mother and
about children. I almost called the book “On Snooping” for reasons you will
understand if you read the book.
If I had to explain what ‘Legs Get
Led Astray’ is about I would say: The nooks and crannies in which intimacy can
be searched for or felt.
@Lovolution: There many pieces in my book having nothing to do with drugs or
sex. They are about: babysitting children, my mother, hitchhiking, writing,
moving, and struggling with self-image. I also have a piece on The Rumpus about
worrying about my father’s death, if you are concerned with what I write about when I don’t write about sex or drugs: http://therumpus.net/2011/03/readers-report-back-from-the-gift/
“He Doesn’t Know Your Birthday” in its entirety will
be appearing in Blue Stem Magazine in July, if you are interested. Thanks again for the suggestions and the different perspectives. I appreciate them.
This is Great!
Chloe,
I believe in treating people with respect and civility and I agree with you, these comment threads are often lacking in both. I also believe that art should be held up to vigorous scrutiny, that if you refuse to level criticism your praise lacks all credibility, and that once something is published it passes from a private realm to a public one and its merits are fair game for debate. Most writers will agree that writing cannot exist without conflict, yet many literary forums shy away from anything remotely critical, as if art and personalities are so fragile they cannot withstand close reading, as if there is no place for conflicting opinion.
Cards on the table, I’m not sure when the journal entry was re-branded the personal essay and it’s entirely possible this new form has passed me by. When I was young and rap was in its adolescence, my parents had an identical intolerance for both Jazzmatazz and Fear of A Black Planet, they could not see distinctions within the genre, and I swore I would never close myself off to an entire form. I am trying not to but I may not be succeeding.
Also, for the record, I am not responding to the sex and drugs. My bookshelves are filled with degenerates and at points in my life I’ve had friends who were not just druggier and (likely) more promiscuous than you, but they were also (probably) more likely than you to piss on my floor and steal my Public Enemy CD’s.
One of my concerns, though, is that when you write autobiographically (particularly at your age), you buffer yourself from legitimate criticism, since it is easy to say the critics are judging your life rather than your words. It is easy to explain pacing problems as part of an effort to capture a real chronology, it is easy to defend choice in detail because those were the “real” details. Tim Kasher said it: Art is Hard.
One of my other concerns is how you admit to trying on styles for fit, which is perfectly natural for a young writer or a young poet as they practice honing their voice, but when the writer or poet is working from imagination and their work meets rejection and/or criticism, they will understand the mandate to try to write better and not take it as prudes suggesting they ought to live better. I am concerned that the editor of your book has come onto this website and admitted you and he will be on the lookout for spotty writing in the coming months – if not you, at least he should have had the professional discretion to do the necessary editing work before delivering the work into a public realm. I am concerned that when you (to paraphrase) “lay out the facts of your life without delving into a lot of detail and exposition,” you will limit your potential readers to those most interested in or sympathetic to the facts of your life rather than the broader literary audience, those who are game for reading anything, so long as the quality, the ambition, and the effort to live up to a certain tradition.
Passion, honesty, and commitment are vital qualities and I don’t think anyone would deny those qualities in your work. I wish you nothing but the best and I mean that sincerely. And I’m sick of seeing my name on this website so that must mean everyone else is REALLY sick of it, so with this I’ll sign off for a while.
i know absolutely without a doubt that “removed from the end of my wrist” and in a lineup I could pick out the back of my hand (either one)removed from the end of my wrist” and in a lineup I could pick out the back of my hand (either one)
hey that’s weird
should say:
i know absolutely without a doubt that “removed from the end of my wrist” and in a lineup I could pick out the back of my hand (either one)
or maybe the first go-round is better?
and _that_ was supposed to be under my first comment above as a reply to myself
oh never mind
i’m going to go take a nap
“He knows your vagina like the back of his middle
finger but sometimes you wonder if he even knows your birthday.”
i think that version is pretty good
also, just curious, by “vagina” do you mean your external junk or your internal junk or both?
i think this distinction makes a difference in the way it (your vagina) is “known” and the way the whole sentence reads
“He knows your vagina like the back of his middle
finger but sometimes you wonder if he even knows your birthday.”
i think that version is pretty good
also, just curious, by “vagina” do you mean your external junk or your internal junk or both?
i think this distinction makes a difference in the way it (your vagina) is “known” and the way the whole sentence reads
He knows your vagina like he knows the palm in his fist but sometimes you wonder if he knows your birthday.
– like meat paste knows a Taco Bell burritocake, like a nipple knows dentition and a tongue knows an abscessing cavity, like this sentence knows off-white.
Nathan, I doubt that close to “everyone else is REALLY sick” of your rational posts.
Along with a couple of, eh, vigorous dismissals of the excerpts – which fragments, if remembered and not fictional, expose not only the writer but another person – , Caldwell has gotten plenty of reasoned defense and plainspoken “love”. This thread simply has not spun out of control with abuse.
I don’t see the inherent problem with either journal-like memoir – though the excerpts here are, to me, clearly more carefully worked than that! – or public, what, workshopping? polishing? tweaking?, but both your responses seems to me to be at least ‘respectful and civil’.
– which commendation you might be told is Not a Good Sign, ha ha.
If anyone wants to pile on a cliche, here’s living breathing Exhibit A, the A-hole who says he’s leaving and comes right back. Only I refuse to let this insult stand – I’m cool with Jimmy calling me jack ass motherfucker muffstuffer, but now you with “rational?” You’re real close to hurting feelings.
Agreed, “respectful” and “civil” are decidedly not signifiers of relevant literary critique, most definitely Not a Good Sign. As I danced around my opinions regarding the excerpt, I wasn’t held back by a fear of rendering fearless commentary, but far more tempered by the knowledge that all I’ve read is this shard of a whole. Perhaps the lesson is not to comment on shards and fragments, since you (should be) handcuffed by all that you do not yet know. Thing is, if I stopped commenting on these excerpts, how would HTMLGIANT sell my e-mail address to GrowGiantBlueberriesFromHome.com.
Probably you’re still upset about that old pump-jockey business and are unlikely to grant me any favors, but please don’t enable me with any further replies – I really must be going, I have a shit-ton of e-mail solicitations I need to Unsubscribe from.
Therein is the problem. I commented on your initial post, Nathan, because I thought it was reasonable and civil. When it comes to so-labeled Web Hype, what’s a commenter to do? Read apart from the whole, I mostly agree with your assessments. You also noted that you’re reading this Web Hype out of context – as we all are – and “hopefully [the] whole does in fact dig deeper.” I hope this as well. In my opinion, an honestly positive reaction to what’s been presented here can only occur if a reader is (1) familiar with the writer’s previous work – which many here apparently are – and/or (2) a reader has faith in the publisher (via the publisher’s publishing record, I guess) to turn this work into a good or very good book. It is, apparently, very early in the editing process. So: we’ll see. Congratulations and good luck to you, Chloe Caldwell.
sooooooo many wayzzzzzzz 2 “know” a “VVVVVVagina”
why, you’ve barely made a dent (oops – cliche’)
you’ve barely scratched the . . . . . . (oops)
sooooooo many wayzzzzzzz 2 “know” a “VVVVVVagina”
why, you’ve barely made a dent (oops – cliche’)
you’ve barely scratched the . . . . . . (oops)
you didn’t mention unknown knowns
you didn’t mention unknown knowns
Back already? God, I’m the worst. Way past gum or the patch, someone needs to break out the Antabuse. But I appreciate agreement as much as I thrive on debate and I wanted to thank you for both of your replies. As you mention, this was labeled Web Hype and all of this commentary is part of the Hype Machine (not just a place for MP3’s any more). I am not an editor and I have never taken part in a writing class or a writing workshop, but when offering material to either literary journals or University peers, I think “bring only your best, finished work” is a common maxim. In this case, though the excerpt was clearly not chosen at random, I have to hope the author rolled the dice with what may not have been her strongest or most representative work. Which, as you note, is why you have supportive commenters complimenting the author as a person, the title of the book, essays that appeared on other websites, the publisher’s track record, more or less anything but the specific words that were placed before us. Well, that’s not entirely true, deadgod’s had some fun with the vagina thing and Taco Bell meat paste, but to quote Kitchell, he’s on some next-level shit.
And just because I pointed out a “lesson,” that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll learn from it. I never learn. Or, more accurately, I learn and willfully disregard. Where’s that Goddamn Antabuse?
Back already? God, I’m the worst. Way past gum or the patch, someone needs to break out the Antabuse. But I appreciate agreement as much as I thrive on debate and I wanted to thank you for both of your replies. As you mention, this was labeled Web Hype and all of this commentary is part of the Hype Machine (not just a place for MP3’s any more). I am not an editor and I have never taken part in a writing class or a writing workshop, but when offering material to either literary journals or University peers, I think “bring only your best, finished work” is a common maxim. In this case, though the excerpt was clearly not chosen at random, I have to hope the author rolled the dice with what may not have been her strongest or most representative work. Which, as you note, is why you have supportive commenters complimenting the author as a person, the title of the book, essays that appeared on other websites, the publisher’s track record, more or less anything but the specific words that were placed before us. Well, that’s not entirely true, deadgod’s had some fun with the vagina thing and Taco Bell meat paste, but to quote Kitchell, he’s on some next-level shit.
And just because I pointed out a “lesson,” that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll learn from it. I never learn. Or, more accurately, I learn and willfully disregard. Where’s that Goddamn Antabuse?
Nor unmentionable unmentionables.
Nor unmentionable unmentionables.
dude, you are Not the Worst
keep on keepin’ on ! !
Nathan, the only one overthinking your comments is you. Just say what you want to say. You’re not being graded.
This is irrelevant to the post, but I just wanted to pose here: I agree 100% with the idea that there is little more interesting where self discovery is concerned than sex, but I do sort of feel like there’s a lot of homogeneity in the kind of sex that is talked about in (young people’s) memoirs. Are there any memoirs focused on sex where the author is not having it regularly? Like, someone who thinks sex is important and amazing and awesome and necessary but doesn’t actually end up having it that much?
General statement, in response to comments more than the actual article or book I have not read. My drugs and fuck period (2 or 3 years) was the most banal waste of time in my life and I “learned” nothing except the absolute uselessness of such an existence. I’m pretty sure the whole thing is an excuse to extend adolescence indefinitely.
No “but then I saw the light” ending, rather just ending up seeing yourself as a trite living-breathing cliche and stopping being a flake.
NOW you tell me…
(i say with a smile and i feel compelled to mention the smile because even though i don’t know roxane i respect what she does on a number of levels and oh my god i’m already overthinking again but what if everything i want to say is the product of overthinking and clearly you can see my dilemma and the only possible solution is to shrug the flag off my shoulders, wrap up this ridiculous at best D+ stretch of James Brown encores and just…shut…up.)
sounds like you were taking the wrong drugs and fucking the wrong people.
tinyurl.com/24n4nqb
and now you’ve gone and mentioned unmentionable unmentionables
you unmentionable unmentionables mentioner you!
Don’t mention it.
Sorry. I know this is unfair dropping this in here but I didn’t know where else to put it?
We are so lucky to be able to write what ever we want, aren’t we?
http://bonjourplanetearth.blogspot.com/2011/04/bahraini-forces-rape-and-kill-poetess.html
tinyurl.com/24n4nqb
Have you ever lived in New York City and not had an excessive drinking and/or sex problem? Because I don’t know anybody that hasn’t.