At 17, all I wanted was to be a famous junky. Like all my heroes.
All my life I'd gone for women who were a little off.
A waft of sweet hash drifted by, and I wanted to float after it like Wimpy levitating at the scent of a hamburger.
I've always wanted to be a guy with a rec room.
Nothing ever turns me on so much in a woman as unhappiness.
The second time I took acid, I watched myself in the mirror for nine hours. What I realized, when I stared, was that my face looked exactly the same when I cried as when I laughed. After awhile I couldn't tell which I was doing. Relief was just pain inside out.