I think I paid two bills for rent and I had a job at a head shop. Next door to a record store. Across the street from a gyro joint, a block from the pizza place.
I could sort out a weeks worth of happiness with a tab that would equal the price a nice dinner now. I could spout off about French philosophers and people would be able to keep up their end of the conversation. I could slap some paint on something and people thought it was awesome. I couldn't swing a bag of weed without hitting a dozen amusing freaks. I saw four cool shows a week, and still had time to go out for pool and bullshit.
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