Back in the day, I was the kind of boy Dennis Cooper fantasizes about. Cute, vain, insecure, arrogant, and a total slut: all you had to do was ask. Make a move on me and I was moved, always. Only once did I stop an advance, due to a proliferation of genital warts that I backed away from like, well...genital warts. Other than that, I was easy and so was my justification. I wanted to be wanted. It wasn't like the promise of youth was wasted, merely unappreciated. Yeah, Joni, you don't know what you got til it's gone.
Back in the day, I learned that pretty girls are just like the homely, intellectual, sensitive ones. Except for the homely, intellectual and sensitive part. I avoided an enormously talented girl named Juno because the pretty girls all hated her. Juno was not pretty, not in the same ways. I ate my lunch and studied "Bitchy 101". Everything has a price. Idiot is more expensive than you might think.
Back in the day, I was easily fooled. My tendency to believe everything I was told proved to be a horrid life lesson and soon I stopped listening. (Oh, I still tend to believe. I am just more careful about what I hear.) Sometimes, I have trouble making things out and wonder about the damage rock'n'roll caused my eardrums. If a pin drops, I don't care. I am rarely barefoot so it doesn't really matter to me.
Back in the day, there was always something to engage in, some worthwhile endeavor. I suppose that goes along with being a tweeker. There was a crystal method to my madness, but I was never bored. Even when Mark stole my car and tried to overdose me, I remained fully entertained. Only when I was cleaning blood off my walls did I start to fade. Girl power goes a long, long way, and someone called me "Jetboy". I didn't get it for years.
Back in the day, I was asking for it. Yeah, yeah, I got it. Back in the day, back in the day.