In the opening scene, Clegg recounts a six-day binge in a fellow fiend’s crack den of an apartment with nightly visits from a dealer: “I don’t know yet that I will push through these grim, jittery hours until evening, when Happy will turn his cell phone back on and deliver more. I don’t yet know that I will keep this going—here and in other places like it—for over a month. That I will lose almost forty pounds, so that, at 34, I will weigh less than I did in the eighth grade.”
Every last crumb. It is one of the book’s motifs. He writes, “There will never be a time when I smoke crack that doesn’t end with me on my knees, sometimes for hours . . . fingering the floor, like a madman, for crumbs.” One of the reasons Portrait of an Addict is so intense and so disturbing—and makes you feel like you yourself have gone on a binge—is that all of the druggy scenes are written in the present tense.
Every last crumb. It is one of the book’s motifs. He writes, “There will never be a time when I smoke crack that doesn’t end with me on my knees, sometimes for hours . . . fingering the floor, like a madman, for crumbs.” One of the reasons Portrait of an Addict is so intense and so disturbing—and makes you feel like you yourself have gone on a binge—is that all of the druggy scenes are written in the present tense.
Release date: June 7th, I have preordered mine
It's gonna be an intense read.
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