![]() Eiseley could have gleaned some meaning about the wino who had his book. I have another copy now and I'm reading it anew. I started reading this wonderful book and lost it somewhere. He threw me the book and I tossed him my knucks and that was that. I fumbled around and pulled out a pair of brass knuckles I had that I carried for protection and never had any intention of ever using and he said "I'll take those". ![]() Then he looked at me and said what will you trade me for it? I had never thought about trading for it but since it was "The Book" I had to have it. He pulled it out and held it up turning it around and staring at it like a jar of peaches you can't decide to open or not. ![]() I saw a book sticking out and I asked him about it. We were passing a bottle of MD 20/20 back and forth and he had his stuff in a kind of knapsack laying open next to him. I was chumming around with this old guy who looked like a vulture sizing everybody up for a meal. Kind of a way station for the down and out, the few on the lam, and punks like me. I remember falling into the company of a bunch of winos in a makeshift camp of sorts in N.M. ![]() ![]() When I was a kid I decided to givr the hobo life a try and head out west by any conveyance I could hop, crawl or jump into. This is a funny, to me I guess, story about my picking this book. ![]()
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