August 15
I finished another comic. "Identity Crisis." Tm not sure if I like it. It seems so crowded. Maybe I'll try to draw larger frames or something... but I really like drawing small probablv because I'm near-sighted and I see better close up.
Chuck came over and I showed it to him. He's the only one who's seen it — he doesn't draw, so I wasn't worried that he would judge it harshly. "It's really cool! You should do a whole book!" He said he'd lend me his collection of Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers. I'm not really into drug comix.The Freak Brothers are three wacky pot-smoking hippies and they ve got a greedy, mangy cat with a raccoon tail.
Chuck pulled out two fifty-dollar bills and waved them in my face. "Lysergic Acid Diethylamide." he says. "LSD."
Yeah? Like, so what, Chuck? Are vou asking me to put two and two together? Are you bragging about vour success as a drug dealer?
One of his older brother's friends makes the LSD in his garage. He's a straight-looking guy, he's an accountant, has a decent car, and lives in a nice little ranch home in Burlingame.
Chuck's been selling the acid at concerts, and on Polk Street and Haight Street, and to certain people he knows from Urban. He aaked me if I would consider letting him keep a vial in our freezer. He said he'd pay me to do it, no problem. He's worried that his brother's wife might find it if he keeps it at their place. He's not ready to get kicked out of there until he passes his GED.
1 said go ahead, you can put it in the freezer. He said I can take some whenever I want it. It's a little clear bottle, looks like eyedrops.
I spilled a bottle of ink on my bed and I didn't notice at first that it had spilled and the ink had time to soak all the way through 2 blankets and a sheet. I didn't notice it until I felt something wet on my butt — now I have a huge black stain on the back of my jeans.
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