"Shootin' that skag, well you needn't, you'd be better off a bleedin'." Since Jon Hendricks put those lyrics to the Monk tune, other than a couple of jailhouse toasts (and some Burroughs) nothing worth dope has been written about shit.

If the above title goes under reference then Ann Marlowe should have provided more information, like how to get off with a dropper and no spike. Dope fiends used eyedropperes instead of syringes in the Sixties -- an era Ann Marlowe knows about. She knows that the dope now is a lot "purer" than it was in the Sixties. What is she basing that on? The bitch was seven years old in 1965! She probably never had any dope on the for real side. I'm basing this on the fact that she started using stuff in 1988. Heroin substitutes like \caps{MPTP}, \caps{MPPP}, Fentanyl, &c. first showed up on the west coast in '82. The "Heroin Super Market" jumped off on the Lower East in '83. Pressure point came down in '84. And in 1999, a $150,000 a year bitch is living on the Lower East Side, paying twice the rent she paid on the Upper East Side. This disqualifies her money-making ass -- in my humble opinion. Nobody with that pedigree can write a book like this. It's not about paying dues. It's about paying rent.

 

Given Marlowe's family history, the subject of heroin substitutes should have special significance for her. \caps{MPPP} has caused Parkinsonian syndrome in dope fiends to the point of permanent total paralysis. Ann, dope doesn't cause headaches. That's the fluid being depleted in your Substantia Nigra!

 

There's something for Ann to think about while she's all alone -- without even a television set. She writes about her isolation. Isolated systems seek a dead level. But entropy is the degree to which energy in a \italic{closed} system tends towards the greatest degreee of disorder. A human being is an open system. Maximum efficiency. Zero entropy. You don't need a defense against zero entropy. She must have "popped out of Harvard" feet first.

 

Maybe this isn't a reference book after all. Maybe it's another Naked Lunch. You know, like it's supposed to be funny. Dope fiends playing tennis and running. dope fiends eating organic foods. She's what Willie Burroughs would call a vibration and dietary artist -- degrading the reader by trying to make him swallow her shit. Dope fiend knocking up 150k a year who saves a quarter of a bag. And that water retention problem? Calling Dr. Benway!

 

Whenever "The Man with the Golden Arm" is being shown on TV the New York Times listing reads "this one was made too soon." This book was written too late, but at least Ann knows this. But anybody who writes a book like this now -- given heroin substitutes, Pressure Point, TNT, spatial deconcentration, gentrification, &c., is part of the problem because sher adheres to a social (cultural) convention established by the enemy. And profits from it.

 

How a dope fiend makes money is a big part of his/her identity, e.g. burglar, booster, stick-up artist... MBA? And this brings us back to that 150K. Ann, if I see you on the street I'm going to kick your fucking ass.

 

 

      Reviewed by Dennis Giron