I left as a beauty, and came back a mess.


Why does it still feel like a man can do as much shit as he wants and is just called a "junkie" affectionately? When a woman out does a man she still is forced to accept these boundaries of, "well, what do you do to have fun besides smoke, anyway?"

Burroughs was a junkie. Anton Wilson a shroom. Bukowski was a drunk...but we are none of these. So why don't you just get to know each other?
We'll smoke a blunt together.



HA. :p