The newly constructed house-communes were, in fact, modest in their communal arrangements.

His hand smelled from that oily shit inside Trojans. His pubic hair was still damp. He debated getting out of bed and taking a shower before Marie woke up and got a downwind whiff. Tough titties. What could she do? Yell? Scream? He'd crack her so goddamn hard she'd shit teeth for a week. Tommy sniffed his fingers. Fuck it. He rolled out of bed and headed for the shower. Goddamn stuff stinks anyway.

Aboard ship he carried his crutch by a lanyard round his neck, to have both hands as free as possible. … [H]e would hand himself from one place to another, now using the crutch, now trailing it alongside by the lanyard, as quickly as another man could walk.

A little man-scaping goes a long way, Mark.