In the end, I was lucky. I can laugh about all of this now, because I survived, I survived everything. I had sex at 13, and I survived. I was thrown out of 10th grade, and I survived. I contracted STD's, and I survived. I took drugs, and I survived. Not everyone did....

Those two punk rock idols of my youth, Wendy O. and G. G. Allen? Five years after I saw him in concert, G. G. OD'ed on a stoop on Avenue B. Wendy O. shot herself in the head in 1998.

Then there are stories closer to home. My brilliant friend Laurel, who jumped off a 14 story balcony at age 16 instead of going to rehab; my French friend Marc, the most selfless junkie I have ever known, who OD'ed in a London squat the same day princess Diana died; Angel (the only drug dealer to ever card a customer) who was viciously killed; San Francisco speed freak Phil who, though he had full-blown AIDS, let me crash at his house. I often wonder what happened to the various punks, skins, and queens, junkies, and artists that I have known, who I have never seen again....

Not everyone can be dead, or changed, or "normal". I may never know what happened to everyone, but I thank every single one of them for changing my life.