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Tragedy of the kid junkie? How? Do it like TimeLife- HamillDailyUSNews&WorldReportBreslin.... Say something about the eyes. Coldness in the eyes; tombstones in the eyes of a pinkcheeked kid who's caught a Jones. Wan face. The shivers on a hot day and sweating on a cold one. Do the desolation row bit. Relate to bombed-out houses; war image. Crouching in the rotted doorway and living in the aban- doned slum building. O.D.'s in the empty rooms far away from mama. Even highschool football heroes are on scag. Middle-class addiction, so therefore it is now tragedy. What was the daily body-count before it moved into middle Amer- ica? Junkies in Larchmont and Scarsdale and Riverhead and Croton and Greenwich, don't forget those. Put in a touch about the hypodermic, the works in a hardtop cigarette pack. Mention hepatitis. Picture an arm, fisted and knot-muscled and
the needle in; the plunger rising and falling, the blood sucking in and out, mixing with the stuff, the taut raised vein before the boot comes . . . and how some get erections and orgasms. . . . The kid pusher. And, oh yes, don't forget the faces. Maybe something about the faces, like Jewish kids about to be in- cinerated. Ah, that's a good touch. Junk has made them all tragic looking. And do the thing about the kidgirl prostitutes to whom come the fat-ankled businessmen and bored diplomats tooling down Flatbush Avenue in ticket-immune Cadillacs while cops a block away hassle long-haired kids. And the rise and fall of the market. They all talk about prices and the weight.
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