Being an impossible and sometimes magnificent son of a bitch. Using the fuck word and calling people fuck names. Being cast-out. Couch/makeout sluts. Writing shit and doing it poorly. Being raw and untrained and self-taught at everything in my life. Brass knuckles. Self-induced hand release. Maudlin poems on public restroom walls. Bikerides. Park benches and swingsets. Alleyways and backstreets. Thrift stores and beer farms. Fat gals with million dollar smiles. Thin gals with lips like cherry bombs. Chicken parmesan. Crooked teeth. Butterscotch pie. Pointless midnight car rides. Holding hands and hugs. Blueberries. Standing up front at the punk-rock show. Zines and zinesters.
A loaded gun.
Black Flag, Black Sabbath, GG Allin, Inmates, Darvocets, Upstab, Cider, Glorified Trash, Belligerent Outburst, Out Cold, Lucero, Jawbreaker, Forward, Chronic Seizure, Bill Bondsmen, Poison Idea, Heartdrops, H-100's, The Finger, Ramones, Lip Cream, Warhead, Daily Void, Canadian Rifle, Chosen Few, Radio Birdman, Off With Their Heads, Screeching Weasel, Leatherface, Clockcleaner, Truthdealer, Holy Shit!, Catburglars, Beltones, Dillinger Four, No Side, Chicken Bowels, the Smiths, Ryan Adams, Whiskeytown, Jesse Malin. Shit like that.
Documentaries on my favorite writers. We need one on both Fante's.
Post Office by Bukowski, Ask the Dust by John Fante, Rabbit Factory by Larry Brown, anything by Harry Crews, Geek Love by Katherine Dunn. Dan Fante, Hubert Selby, Jr., Bill Faulkner, Nick Flynn, Ernest Hemingway. Reading and words get my dick hard. Too many to make an accurate list.
Whoever shot and killed JFK.