Peter delivers this portrait of a red-blooded jock as monster dope fiend. Had Hunter Thompson been a football player . . . this is the book he'd have written (Jerry Stahl, author of "Permanent Midnight").
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Peter delivers this portrait of a red-blooded jock as monster dope fiend. Had Hunter Thompson been a football player . . . this is the book he'd have written (Jerry Stahl, author of "Permanent Midnight").
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Seller's Description:
Good. Connecting readers with great books since 1972! Used textbooks may not include companion materials such as access codes, etc. May have some wear or limited writing/highlighting. We ship orders daily and Customer Service is our top priority!
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Seller's Description:
Very good. Connecting readers with great books since 1972! Used books may not include companion materials, and may have some shelf wear or limited writing. We ship orders daily and Customer Service is our top priority!
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Seller's Description:
Good. Peter, Jason Hero of the Under Ground Edge and corner wear to dust jacket. Creases to dust jacket. Dust jacket is in good condition. Edge and corner wear to book. Pages still clean and tight. Book is in good condition. All U.S. orders shipped with tracking number and e-mail confirmation. All Orders Shipped With Tracking And Delivery Confirmation Numbers.
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Seller's Description:
Good. Connecting readers with great books since 1972! Used textbooks may not include companion materials such as access codes, etc. May have some wear or limited writing/highlighting. We ship orders daily and Customer Service is our top priority!
Choose your shipping method in Checkout. Costs may vary based on destination.
Seller's Description:
Very Good in Very Good jacket. AP5-A first edition (stated with complete numberline) hardcover book SIGNED and inscribed by author to previous owner on the half-title page in very good condition in very good dust jacket. Dust jacket and book have some bumped corners, light tanning and shelf wear. 9.5"x6.25", 289 pages. Satisfaction Guaranteed. I WASN'T AFRAID OF DEATH. How could I be? I lived under death's shadow every day. When you swallow eighty Vicodin, twenty sleeping pills, drink a bottle of vodka, and still survive, a certain sense of invulnerability stays with you. When you continually use drugs with the kind of reckless determination that I did, the limit to how much heroin or crack you can ingest is not defined in dollar amounts, but in the amounts your body can withstand without experiencing a seizure or respiratory failure. Yet at the end of every binge, every night of lining up six, seven, eight crack pipes and hitting them one after the other bam! bam! bam! every night of smoking and snorting bag after bag of heroin...after all of that, when you still wake up to see the same dirty sky over you as the night before, you start to think that instead of dying, maybe your punishment is to live-to be stuck in this purgatory of self-abuse and misery for an eternity. Sometimes you start to think that death would come as a blessed relief. Toward the end, I found myself contemplating death again. Only this time I wasn't going to leave it to chance. I was going to buy a gun, load the thing, place the barrel in my mouth, and blow my f*****g brains out. I sat on my parents' sofa as I pondered this. All I needed was a gun. And then all-of my problems-would be-solved.