write about the alarming envy you felt listening to jerry stahl talking about being a crack head and a heroin addict, about you're insecurities about not having enough memories, about not having lived, and how that lead you to mistake actually wanting to live the "adventure," as you put it, of being a crack head for desperately wanting that memory, to have experiences that rich to draw on. i want things to look back on. i mean, i listened to a story about a guy shitting neon blue robitussun DM in adult diapers and i left thinking that he'd made crack addiction sound dangerously appealing, so intense is my desire to HAVE MEMORIES. i felt so stupid trying to explain to some middle aged woman how that story sounded appealing to me, how i'd heard it as a siren song for crack addiction. what a silly person i am.