Roscoe was spiritually illegal, a bootlegger of the soul, a mythic creature made of words and wit and wild deeds and boundless memory.
Well-lit streets discourage sin, but don't overdo it.
There's only a short walk from the hallelujah to the hoot.
Hoot Only Short Walk
Without a sense of place the work is often reduced to a cry of voices in empty rooms, a literature of the self, at its best poetic music; at its worst a thin gruel of the ego.
Cry Ego Empty Literature Music