December 1944, Auschwitz.
Gang-bang buffet tables, deeply earnest 'Letters to the Editor,' ghost-writing Kierkegaard references into model bios in Barely Legal, and how a half-decade of reviewing porn eroded the thin line between the author's alter egos and self.
It’s legal to buy poppy seeds in America and it’s legal to plant them—unless you’re familiar with the simple process of turning them into opium, that is. Then having poppies in your garden is a felony.
The first piece of gonzo journalism, annotated.
On the best teacher the writer ever had.
A trip to the Famous Poets Society convention/contest in Reno.