I'm sitting in my new apartment drinking white wine and writing about teenage devil worship. 30 years ago I was in Paris typing out a Brian ferry interview for a German gangster.
Jorgen.
Playboy of the West.
"Do you want anything?" He asked placing the tape recorder on the table next to my typewriter.
"Just a glass of champagne and a line of coke."
He came back with both and he said later, "That is my idea of a writer."
I was glad to not disappoint him then or now.
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