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She’s not just the collector of tales, she was a part of the experience as well, inspiring her peers and challenging the wannabe rockstars who gazed up at her with puppy-dog eyes.

The irony of leaving so many of her peers exposed today is not lost on me.

Across the wall were three stripes of primary colors that she purposely used David Foster Wallace’s to measure.

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“I used to read rock encyclopedias, highlighting, like, King Crimson,” she explains, “and then go to Other Music to sort of methodically and dutifully learn my craft. Her days were filled with riding horses and at night, she would listen to Bob Dylan while immersing herself in issues of Rolling Stone and the New Yorker.

Lizzy would go on to study English at the University of Pennsylvania; her college application photo featured her sitting by a haystack.

It ended suddenly on my birthday this year when Marc passed away from unknown causes. K., I get it, I accept that you’re dead but can you just come back and talk to me about it? It’s been almost exactly 15 years since Lizzy and I first moved into an apartment together on the Lower East Side.

“That’s the hardest part about losing someone who is such a character in your own story. 1 thing you miss is knowing what they would say about this huge thing that just happened. The large-by-New-York-standards two-bedroom apartment was in a converted school building.

Her eyebrows double as an interrogator and a real-time bullshit detector.

This ability to get people to disarm—mixed with the fact that Lizzy met most of the people featured in her book while she was a 21-year-old school teacher and another beautiful girl who was someone’s plus one or teenaged summer girlfriend—gave her unique access and insight.

Her statement applies to the thousands of hours of interviews she conducted, transcribed, and pored over the past five years, cobbling together an extensive oral history featuring quotes from rock stars (most notably, the surprisingly hilarious Paul Banks from Interpol), journalists, gadflies, girlfriends and boyfriends.

In this instance, she’s slamming that book shut on my personal pleas.

But I would have let loose a little more and had a little more faith in the beneficent mystery of my own path and not been quite so uptight about shit. So I don’t feel too sorry for my past self, or for any of these artists. I’m thrilled to learn about the book’s second pressing because it means that perhaps I can persuade someone I consider to be one of my best friends to make some edits, specifically a mass deletion of things I told her while I knew the tape was recording that ended up in the book. Everybody has something that they don’t want in this book that’s in there.

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