I read this book, thanks to _slasher_
Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain
The true story of punk rock in the stories of the participants
Translated by Anton Skobin, Max Dolgov
Judging by the book, those people were crazy and desperate. They didn't really think about anything , devoured drugs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, fucked anyone they could, wore women's clothes, cut themselves with knives, and died.
Everyone in their own way, of course. But there was no special meaning in what was happening, and they weren't looking for it, unlike their English followers and researchers, who droned on about the social nature of punk.
"James Sliman: When Stiv lived in Cleveland, he'd have fun like that every night. We'd get drunk, Stiv would pull his pants down, and then, without letting go of the steering wheel, climb onto the windshield of the car and show everyone his bare ass. That was his favorite bit. His dick was pressed against the windshield, while his ass hung out for everyone to see."
"Richard Hell: Quine is maniacally protective of his guitars. On stage he usually moved back as far as possible, he wanted to be away from the audience, who were spitting at the musicians. But someone hit his guitar with a big, thick loogie. He saw who did it, and broke that guy's jaw with his guitar.
So get this, that guy later came to him backstage to ask for an autograph! They were crazy, they were like British football hooligans, a feral crowd, a classic case. They wanted kicks, aggression, and filth, to go berserk, you know?"
"James Grauerholz: Patti told me that she imagined this performance as merging life and death in ecstasy. During performances she adhered to the «whirling dervish» philosophy and thought that going into a trance – was her duty to the audience. She told me she often masturbates on stage."
"Bob Gruen: We went to a gay store, a giant supermarket of leather goods, so the guys could buy leather jackets. The store had plenty of everything: there were dildos, and some kind of gels. Sid bought up leather bracelets, leather belts, and besides that – all sorts of gels, lubes for ass fucking – and smeared his head with it. They were like cream, and Sid squeezed a whole tube onto his hair and spiked it up. Johnny Rotten said: «Brilliant, Sid! Now you can stick your head up somebody's arse»."
"Scott Asheton: Sable dyed her pubic hair green. She would swim on her back and do a backbend, so her crotch stuck out, and this green mop was flapping in the wind, ha-ha-ha!"
"Bob Gruen:
This flashy blonde turned out to be a guy who had gotten rid of his dick with surgery. Everyone in Tulsa knew him, but we didn't. At first glance he looked like a pretty girl.
Eventually Sid went with her to his room, and everyone at the party said: «Wow! Sid went off with a transsexual».
When he came back, we started asking: «Hey, Sid, so, how was it?»
He replied: «Uhh, alright».
Sid wasn't looking for adventures, the adventures found him themselves. It was like he was some kind of magnet. Everything fell on him. Sketchy shit was constantly happening around Sid. That same night, some Vietnam war veteran offered his girlfriend to Sid, and the veteran himself wanted to watch the process.
After a while Sid came back and said: «I just took a shit in her mouth».
I asked: «What? Are you kidding? Why the hell did you do that?»
He said: «Well, you know, her boyfriend told me he wanted her to experience something unforgettable»."
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