Raver Princess Excerpt Published In Literary Journal, The Noyo Review

A published chapter from my working memoir, Raver Princess. Chapter titled, Supergirl. Page 61!

Clayton was wearing a big goofy smile when he plopped into my white '76 VW Beetle.

“Hi doll face,” he said, leaning in for a kiss. He tasted more like cigarettes than weed this afternoon.

“Hi! So, are you going to tell me where we're going? And what my second birthday present is?”

“We're going to my friend Dave's place. He wants to be a tattoo artist. We've talked about getting tattoos, and I really want you to be there when I get my first one. And if you want one, it's my treat.”

That morning I woke up more nervous for him than me. His first gift was a hand-drawn graffiti piece with my name in a bubble-letter style. All weekend I'd been admiring “Samantha” on thick, fancy paper alive in red, silver, and purple colored pencil. The art was polished, and the gift was thoughtful—I could tell it took him hours to create, and I was planning on framing it. It would be hard to up himself with another (affordable) present; he didn't have the money for the new pair of Adidas kicks I wanted, and Clayton's idea of dining out was a trip to Taco Bell.

“Oh really?” I said, gripping my furry zebra print steering wheel. I stared at the street ahead of us, unsure I wanted to move forward.

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Junkies on the PTA Board

“Heroin is coming back in a big fucking way,” says Eric Stoltz’s open-robed Lance in Pulp Fiction. Like everything ’90s, heroin is in again. Is it just a matter of time before we start seeing its glamourized return in fashion and film? Pulp Fiction wowed me (and disturbed my mom) when I saw it 20 years ago. Kate Moss summed up ‘heroin chic.’ Molly, in her furry boots and neon lingerie, is tired. Maybe it’s time for the opiate of all opiates to reclaim the spotlight.

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