I didn't get fucked until I was twenty. Before that, I used to come, just rub it against some jeans or something. I didn't want to get fucked.
There was this chick who had her eye on me. A couple of them sort of had their eye on me for quite awhile, being a drummer and all.
Anyway, she'd follow me. She had a kid. I don't know, I don't like screwing chicks with kids. She was being very nice and she'd keep turning up, you know, making scrambled eggs. She kind of cultivated me.
She was trying to get me to fuck her. One time, I was kissing her and stuff on her couch over at her place and I was lying on top. I was humping her actually, and she was saying, "Why don't you go all the way? Let's go all the way." I was put off. Then finally, one night in my room — I had this really weird room with a little balcony. I used to shit on it, shit on my little balcony and let it dry. And I had all the furniture in my room, including two single beds, all the furniture tipped on end. I made a maze out of it so that you couldn't see more than two or three feet in any one direction at any given time. It was an interesting room, a little room of its own. Anyway, she got me really stoned on good stuff. I'd only had a little marijuana in my life so it was still fresh in my blood.
I don't remember how I got my clothes off, but we were on the balcony. I cleaned the shit off the balcony and put a bed out there because she was coming over that night. It wasn't hard and I wasn't aware exactly what was happening to us. Somehow she managed to sort of do it herself. And then I came. It was very much like a dream sequence. I just sat up, didn't say a word and took off. I ran downstairs and got on her bicycle and rode, just as fast as I could, away. I was very upset and I turned a corner on the wrong side of the street. I was in a frenzy and I ran head-on into a car, and flipped into the air. I flew over the car and landed on my feet. (Ann Arbor, MI, 1965)
from I Need More by Iggy Pop (2.13.61 Publications, undated)
© 2001 Nerve.com, Inc.
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