But I know the difference. Everyone else is a ghost. I exist here alone, stranded by choice. Deserted.

Perhaps it's not that I'm frigid-- it's that once I decide I like a guy, I turn into a raging idiot, unfit for public appearances.

Lou's such an old punk he was around when the Ramones were junkie hustlers first and musicians second, when punk meant something other than a mass-marketing concept designed to help the bridge-and-tunnel crowd feel cool.

Things change all the time, mostly in little ways.

I deciced if I were ever to get into booze and women, my line would be, 'Excuse me, madam, but I would really love to bed and muss you. . . . Are you perchance free this evening?

I'm told there's no going back. So I'm choosing forward.

People are like that, judging you before they know you.