Speed demons

book/daddy has always had a mild shake to his hands. Early onset delirium tremens, probably. A brilliant career in neurosurgery was lost.

Once in Austin, I bought a flower from a grizzled street vendor. Go ahead and pick one from the bucket, he said. He watched me sort through the blossoms. Ah, he said, with knowing sarcasm. Crank shakes, eh?

Maybe that's why I never really liked speed or meth or crank -- unlike a number of other writers in Austin. Made me shake like a wet sick dog.

That shit, I thought, is evil-scary. Elizabeth Hand agrees.