I wanted to do what I wanted so sick of toeing the line sowing good impressions playing it safe, mostly it falls apart anyway I wanted to do what I wanted
(dedicated to Teresa Wright) To find inspiration in the mundane, and order in the seemingly insane, to dare to be wild and playful, to refuse conformity's relentless pull,
I'll never forget how (in my freshman year at SOU) Stout Willie, Count of Bohemia, doubtless hung-over but wanting to go with me to a party casually smoked a Nat Sherman cigarette
(dedicated to my physician Michael Stone) Oh Saint Christopher, you herculean dog-headed Libyan protector of travellers and healer of the sick I know, being neither Catholic
A teen in the 60s he was tripping and dancing to The Warlocks, since then he's done and run about everything: weed, peyote, speed, heroin, and everything else under the sun-
