Let it blurt.

Just wrapped up Jim DeRogatis' "Let it blurt: the life and times of Lester Bangs, America's greatest rock critic". Inspired by Bangs' legendary excesses (ie. writing while totally jimmied-up on Romilar cough syrup), I chugged a bottle of NyQuil and sat down to pen my magnum opus, only to end up passing out face down on my coffee table. I woke up some time later in a puddle of cherry-scented drool, my inspiration lost but my sinuses remarkably clear. Okay, not really, but Bangs' "Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung" is a fantastic piece of work, despite (or perhaps because of?) being written during a series of speed benders. Fortunately, you don't have to be on speed to enjoy it. Though if you are, that's entirely up to you, man.