Getting Fucked Up with Tom Baker, Norman Mailer, and Jim Morrison
"Wanna go for a drink?" I asked Norman Mailer, standing on the corner of Sixth Avenue and 14th Street, when I realized I'd fucked up. I'd been out all night at the Mudd Club with a skinny Jewish girl with large breasts, drinking, doing coke, and getting my dick sucked, when I suddenly remembered that I had a girlfriend…
"No," Norman huffed, pulling up the collar of his ski jacket. "Not now…”
I didn't want to show my disappointment, but I was so hungover that if I didn't get a drink or a valium soon, I was in for full-on delirium tremens. My nervous system was so shot even my synapses were hunchbacked. Norman was brooding about something, went to a pay phone to make a phone call, so I couldn't tell if he was annoyed at me for asking.
"Just one beer," I prayed, deluding myself again.
Retrieved on 17 December 2018 from https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/av45yb/getting-fucked-up-with-tom-baker-norman-mailer-and-jim-morrison-832
