Drugs Are Nice [Secure eReader]
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eBook by Lisa Crystal Carver
eBook Category: People/Sports/Entertainment
eBook Description: In 1987 in the small town of Dover, New Hampshire, Lisa and her best friend Rachel--both seventeen--set up a punk show at the Veteran's Hall. When the headlining act got lost and drunk and never showed up, the audience was angry and the promoters hid in the bathroom. Then Lisa got an idea. The girls put on the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, mounted the stage, smoked cigars, caterwauled, took off their clothes and hit things and people. Suckdog--called 'the most interesting band in the world' by Melody Maker--was born. Lisa Carver left for Europe at the age of eighteen, quickly becoming a teen publisher (of the fanzines Dirt and Rollerderby), a teen bride (to French performance artist Jean-Louis Costes), and a teen prostitute (turning her first trick a few days before turning 20). Hustler called Rollerderby 'quite possibly the greatest zine ever,' and The Utne Reader chooses Lisa Carver as one of the '100 Visionaries Who Will Change Your Life.' But when her baby was born in 1994 with a chromosomal deletion and his dad--industrial music maven and rumored neo-Nazi Boyd Rice--became violent, Lisa began to realize the life that needed changing was her own. A story of lasting lightness and surprising gravity, this is a book about the generation that wanted to break every rule. A definitive account of rules broken, left intact and re-written forever, it ripens into the classic account of an artist and a mother becoming an adult on her own terms.
eBook Publisher: Snowbooks/Snowbooks
Fictionwise Release Date: November 2006
I?m in the kitchen with my mother. The phone rings; she says hello and then gets kind of gray in the face. I try to read her but I can?t. Finally she says: ?For how long? ? What am I going to do for money? ? Well, you're telling her. And remember: Lisa?s six.? Accusatory. She passes the big green phone to me and I hold it up to my ear.?Hi honey, it?s your dad. I?m going to prison for a few years. Do you know what that means??I?m not used to my father?s voice on the telephone; I?m used to being with him in real life, on his lap or his shoulders, or clinging to his leg. I say, ?Uh-huh.?The last time I saw him, he'd pushed me out into the river in a boat I made all by myself out of an orange crate, a sheet and some rubber from a tire. My sneakers and blue-jeaned bum were wet, and then the boat was slowly but steadily sinking.
I clung to the thin wooden slats and stared mutely at my father, who looked very far away. I was falling in slow motion and I thought I was going to pee myself. Then I discovered I could stand. I stepped out of my boat and waded towards shore, where my father was laughing his head off.As my mother claims not to know what to do with children, she hasn't done much with me so far. My father, on the other hand, has let me do everything with him: hitchhike; play poker with Reverend Bruce and the Vics?Red Vic and Black Vic?for money; get high (one time?he didn't want to stunt my growth) and listen to Pink Floyd?s Ummagumma; steer the truck; steer a helicopter even when I aimed it straight down and the instructor, in the back seat, screamed at my father to grab the wheel from me; be his ?beard? when he'd pass an afternoon with one of his ?chicks.? He gave me secrets to keep from my mother. When I came back from a weekend with my grandmother terrified of Hell, he explained all the religions to me, and he explained my grandmother to me. He allowed me (only me! not my mother, and not the chicks) to solve ancient philosophical dilemmas and current political
crises; he'd laugh at me gently to let me know when my answer was wrong and if he said nothing, only tilted his head, I knew I was right. I knew I'd done good. He never called anything I wanted to do too dangerous and never corrected my plans. He spread freedom out before me like a giant hole, and I fell in.And now he?s gone.