At the party I had a gram of coke and asked Don if he wanted to go to the bathroom with me and do a bump. We did, and I put the entire gram on the counter and we snorted it up. We talked for a while and I told him I was an amature poet. He asked me to recite some of my stuff as he thought I was full of shit. I gave him my best stuff and he really liked it. He then pulled out a bag that had at least an ounce of coke in it and said let’s write. He had a pen and a little spiral notebook which I assume he wrote his thoughts on. We spent the next 8 hours snorting coke and writing song lyrics. All in that tiny little bathroom. He sat on the toilet and I sat on the edge of the bathtub. I helped him refine one poem that ultimately became the song “Johnny can’t Read”. I wrote two lines that ultimately made their way into his song Lilah. Man those were really good times. Absolutely true story.
You forgot the sarcasm tag. Must be the ‘coke’.
Dude, do you know Spicoli? You had a drug-induced brush with greatness.