In 1972 it suddenly seemed like swingtime was just fag, fag, fag. Excuse me if I'm not politically correct but shit even though the mayor is gay here this town is not a really gay town. The one dude who bought all the fag rock as it was then called was gettin' laid by this great looking art student. Ain't that something? The rest of us, his senior dudes, were all alone. My Bowie boy was making it while Mountain, Heap, Dylan, Byrd guys were all a lonely. Boy, what a guy, huh? Ah, but we got qualludes out of it. And a big bust in December. The guys who usually dealt the dope and who were very generous with it got busted. They were no good anyway, told the gettin' laid guy, they was rich. At least one was. The better looking one. The more personable one. Odd.