The world was dark and terrible then.
Back then, in the ancient of days, I would take any chance I could to wander off into Waldenbooks, hoping to sneak a furtive, desperate glance at this (and other such books), praying no one saw me.
It seems so tame now.
Anyway, I found this (Ken Haak's Sleeping Beauties) today at a charity book fair, nestled in the "Art book" section. It was 50 cents, so, of course, I had to buy it.
I just have to wonder which poor soul
|(Oh, how I would squint desperately at this one, trying to get a faint glimpse of peen. No wonder I need contacts now)|
|(I always wondered, "what the hell is he doing with that chapstik and change anyway?").|
|(oh, but these are the images that life long insecurities are made of.)|
And they lived neurotically ever after.