The way I stood in there, packing my suitcase.
Only, my mind wasn’t on the suitcase.
It wasn’t on the weekend.
Nor was it on the shirts I was putting in the suitcase, either.
My mind was hanging outside the window.
It was suspended just about 18 inches below.
And out there in that great, big concrete jungle,
I wonder how many others there are like me —
Poor, bedeviled guys on fire with thirst.
Such comical figures to the rest of the world…
as they stagger blindly towards another binge…
another bender, another spree.
–《失去的週末 The Lost Weekend》（1945）
“I’m Chilly Gonzales, the musical genius."