Slipping. I guess I was a recreational criminal, or sporting liar,
or something like that. When you discover you can shoplift an entire
crate of albums, just by asking for a box, you simply get bored
by it all. We had money, girls, anything we wanted. Except, uh,
permanence. We couldn't really hold on to anything. I lost everything
in 1972, though I had my health, and enough intelligence to know
that counted for a lot.