Sublime

Dischner is the only Paradise City member who naturally looks like a GNR doppelgänger. He’s also the guy who makes the trains run on time; he handles the money, coordinates the schedules, and generally keeps his bandmates from killing each other. All of these guys are friendly, but Dischner is the most relentlessly nice. He’s also mind-blowingly id

murky fortress that separates him from the rest of the world. When you have so many other people doing things for you professionally and personally, you stop taking responsibility for any of it.

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Warren Burr pushes away from the table and lurches inside toward the bar. You recognize the type: he’s the guest who blackens a party like a blot upon a page, and for whom the lights always seem to dim when he enters a room.

We sat and talked about books and authors, and I gave my best impersonation of a model tenant, a man whose checks wouldn’t bounce and who wouldn’t cause any fuss.

fucked-up rich kids. My son the doctor Mark Vonnegut, who wrote a swell book about his going crazy in the 1960s, and then graduated from Harvard Medical School, had an exhibition of his watercolors in Milton, Massachusetts, this summer.

bluff