Ten minutes later in his room under the eaves his last thoughts were of the young trader at the wheel of the Seal Pup driving his craft recklessly through the night waters, his devil-ridden eyes fixed on—what?

[…] but if there's somebody out there that's like, 'Oh, his music is wack,' what they're really saying is he's wack... But he's like, 'I don't give a fuck 'cause this isn't even really me.'

And I decided, rightly or wrongly, not to tell her about the pregnancy.

Alternative form: east-northeastward