Stories tagged drugs


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In the corner of my room stand—like color guards— parallel stacks of batteries, each with a metal spoon, waiting patiently for me to heat up in the darkness, the quiet darkness, and pay homage to my…

Annals of the Naked Rowdies #3

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They swarmed over him like a pack of dingos on a baby.

Annals of the Naked Rowdies #13

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It worked for a short time and their next album, "The Hirsute Agenda" became an underdog success.


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After like forever I remembered Seth was there, too. He was still on the levee's edge, but had drawn his legs up and crossed them, Indian-style. All of a sudden he was laughing.


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I didn’t answer right away. I didn’t know how to answer. Maybe I should say that my boyfriend left a toothbrush at my house, and that has recently elevated the level of our relationship. But I wasn’t quite sure what to call him. I had been living li

Drug War Snitch - II

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he immediately came over, looked directly into my eyes, and, with his thick polish accent, said: "Day are Gestapo."

Snitch - III

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Doreen wanted more freedom from the house, the children, and me. No surprise there. I understood that and I sympathized with her. But . . .


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I would ask for your name/if your tongue wasn’t in my mouth.


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Leaving Sonny along in the house with Doreen worried me. What did I think they'd be doing? Making out on the kitchen table? In the bedroom? Out front in his car?

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 2

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I lived for a time on Red Square in Berkeley. You may have heard of it. It was run by Von Rotten (that’s just plain Von), who was considered the Vladimir Lenin of the Foul Language Movement of Poetry (FLMP, pronounced “Flimp,” sometimes “Flump,”

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 4

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That night we slept on the floor of Kirk and Maggie’s apartment and listened to them arguing all night about art and life and love. Ah, me, I sighed, the sad soul of America! I thought of Walt Whitman. I thought of Allen Ginsberg.

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 5

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and we got the apartment, which was on a street that backed up on an alley situated, as it turned out, right across the alley from the very first Hari Krishna house, where they would wake up at four every morning and begin their maddening chanting: Hari K


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“Celebrities know about it—the Scientologists, anyway. That’s really all they are, just a bunch of moderately talented people who went to three times as many casting calls as their peers because they never got tired and gave up. Oh, and the Amish pe


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...what will happen to me buying drugs on the street, at night...?

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 17

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So back to Berkeley we went, and started our own commune in a huge rented house on Derby Street where we could tear the fences down in all the neighborhood backyards. We created what we called “The Meadow.”