from neither Shakespeare nor Mickey Spillaneyoung young young, only wanting the Word, going mad in the streets and in the bars, brutal fights, broken glass, crazy women screaming inyour cheap room, you a familiar guest at the drunk tank, NorthAvenue 21, Lincoln Heightssifting through the madness for the Word, the line the way, hoping for a check from somewhere, dreaming of a letter from a great editor: Chinaski, you dont know how long weve beenwaiting for you no chance at all.