Reading an old interview in Salon with Dorothy Allison, author of Bastard Out of Carolina.

She sez something about New York that Ive found to be true and can now relate to...

In order to justify how much exhilaration and adventure living in the evil city was, I destroyed my immune system with overwork and, let's get real, using drugs to keep maintaining.

I was basically doing huge amounts of coffee and other stimulants and drinking to get myself down enough to rest. And not sleeping. You can do yourself enormous damage. No, honey, it was going to readings. It was drink another cup of coffee because somebody is doing something interesting and I want to see it. And dating every piece of rough trade I could get my hands on.

Oh, land. I near killed myself.

But it was fun?

Enormous passion, even in the work. Even in the most grody, awful work.
I used to (do work in New York), which was deadly, deadly, but also an enormous joy.

I had so much guilt about being in a place where I was happy. Or almost happy. I'd ... feel, thank you, thank you, Jesus, for letting me get here.

And then the wave comes in of "I should be dead."

I don't think people ever talk about how strong that wave is.

Boy, it is a biggie.

Yes it is.

I was strong as a horse before I got here. Impervious to most ailments.

Then the stress, long hours and stressed people caught up with me in a hurry.

Oy.

Yep, I can definitely relate to what she went through.

She moved to San Francisco.

Now, its the donuts in Bayonne that's gonna do me in.. :-)
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