Get Smart And Nothing Can

I Go Straight From Thinking About My Narrator To Being Him.

The Person In This Picture Is Really Me.

California Is Like A Beautiful Wild Kid On Heroin, High As A Kite And Thinking She's On Top Of The World, Not Knowing She's Dying, Not Believing It Even If You Show Her The Marks.

Suddenly It Wasn't Only A Personal Thing To Me. I Could Picture Hundreds And Hundreds Of Boys Living On The Wrong Sides Of Cities, Boys With Black Eyes Who Jumped At Their Own Shadows. Hundreds Of Boys Who Maybe Watched Sunsets And Looked At Stars And Ached For Something Better. I Could See Boys Going Down Under Street Lights Because They Were Mean And Tough And Hated The World, And It Was Too Late To Tell Them That There Was Still Good In It, And They Wouldn't Believe You If You Did.

You Know A Guy A Longtime, And I Mean Really Know Him, You Don't Get Used To The Idea That He's Dead Just Overnight.