Word: good
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Billy smiled. "Right there!" He pointed to the fireplace. There was no cat in there. What was he doing? Then he laughed. We all laughed. Lot of good laughs. Stoned good laughs...
...being alone with something wrong man, you know this isn't right, but is that right? Like probing your asshole in the bathrub, or like wanting to vomit, wanting to taste it, or like hurting, an animal slowly. Degrade and debase all that you have been taught that is good for you because you can't do it anywhere else. Like a man who wants to scream when he is alone, but then there's no point in it, the scream crawls over and hardens your soul. Alone--there's no one around for miles, for years, you might very...
They're all part of your psychic company. You might very well be Charly Parker or Dylan, because you know you're a sensitive guy. Good company...
Billy swayed on his feet. "So good, so few things," his voice said. He was gone. Exactly. He looked at me, sly smiling guy, smiling to make you cry. I knew what he wanted. "Some smoke...
...this blessed world contributes to the way we feel. For example, when I write, I turn out the most stuff when I'm on dexedrine (a legally purchaseable drug with prescription) or amphetamine-derivative drugs. But I also write more stuff more easily during the late afternoon following a good night's sleep, a shower, and a meager meal than I do at other times. Sometimes I can do some pretty good stuff after a couple of beers from the icebox. But never after any hard liquor; the only think I like then is sex or unconsciousness. It is easier...