“Funny you should say that,” I continued to slur, “I helped put out the first issue of Lollipop, a magazine distributed in Boston and other cities in the area.”
Mama and Papa gone away, They don’t want to know us anymore. Half of us Longhairs, Queers, Punkers, and Junkies. Got no table to sit down at on Easter Sunday.
“What’s your point?” I would remind myself that that was my original question, but it seems pointless. I’m too stubborn to listen to anything I have to say.
Mac sat on the couch and thought of the thought he’d just thought. He couldn’t remember sitting on this couch before, or ever seeing this couch before. Hmmm.
We, as human animals, are resigned to the “inevitable” fact of passing through this life into obscurity. Some, however, fight it with everything they’ve got.
We go to press tomorrow and I haven’t bathed or slept in as long as I can remember. For all the stress and stench, this project, this dream, has affected me greatly.