Here's the thing:

I was born, and with me out of the womb flew hallucinations. Like
pandora's womb. I came tumbling out, Boy Hope, and then the rest was
just a bunch of LSD hallucinations. It was the world entire, actually --
when I tumbled out of the womb, so tumbled with me my entire universe.
Slowly, foggily at first, it coalesced and sharpened up...from the first
squishy sensations slowly grew rigid ideas of right and wrong, and then
I fell on the hardwood floor and played with the hardwood blocks and
screamed at the injustice of being sent to my room and fell asleep on
the shelves, photographed by the laughing adults.

My mom, Pandora, her box exuded doom. The next boy to come out was
laced with doom, the guy was dripping doom -- actually, funny story, he
was a bouncing, jovial, laughing movie...then, as happens to all men,
junior high happened, and the persecution began in earnest...and the
boy folded under the pressure, collapsed like a house of spotty cards.

Out with the womb from me came fluctuations -- it affected not only the
Beatles, visiting America for the first time, but also twangy reedy
Dylan who took LSD and flowered, pollinating hallucinations two
albumsworth.

The pollinatrix, the pinkpill pollinatrix, Mama Pandora and her
ejaculating vagina, ejaculated baby out bouncing onto the tile and she
was off like a shot! To Greenwich Village, to San Francisco, Laurel
Canyon, Albuquerque, Austin, Woodstock, Paris, Marseilles, spreading
joy and vibrations all up and down the gogo.

Several twinkling hallucinations later, the hippies grew sullen and
alone...the drugs cut with poison...the napalm...the psoriasis-laden
head of Spiro Agnew...the Beatles blew their mind out in a car...the
light descended, the smog choked off all our oxygen, and the energy
crisis deepened. We used all our energy in the previous decade, and the
crisis cut through from the physical world to the ideal world and
beyond.

I'm sorry.