Still watching this Drug Years series on VH1 Classic--great stuff. Images of Vietnam, of needles in veins; Rolling Stones on the soundtrack. Someone telling Keith he's at the top of someone else's death pool. Keith is not amused. His teeth look like a crack whore's. His eyes are pinballs. And Keith never went to Vietnam--just fought his inner guerrillas, I guess?
in the narrow black vein that travels
along a crooked path
around a spiral groove
to the heart of jungle darkness
from the warrior in the theater
of his skull
to the warrior in Nixon’s army
I dunno; once Nixon showed up, I thought the poem was heading in the wrong direction, so I stopped. It's here in case I don't get back to doing something else today.
The series is really good. I do wonder why Liz Phair keeps showing up; we're only right around the time when she was born. Well, actually, we're somewhere in the '70s now, with footage of people who look like me and my high school classmates. That Kiki Dee sorta hair. I barely even tasted booze before I was 18. We had narcs, or rumors of narcs, though. And I could've had lots of stuff if I'd wanted it. Ah, nostalgia.