I'm still reading this book, having finished the journals section, and Guy is so fascinating...Remember Kerouac's Big Sur, and all the misery and dislocation he had during that time, which is a nice way to say he was having delirium tremens, which is a nice way to say he was losing his mind due to alcoholism, but somehow at the same time he was writing all this down into a great book. Well, here with Guy's book of journals, journalism, personal photos and magazine writing, etc. Guy presents himself as one of us...either broke, lonely, heart on his sleeve, snooty, unctuous, loving, meticulous, sure of himself, lazy, more broke, insightful, horny, hetero with a fey side of bacon, and wonderfully revealing. You'll never get a presidential bio on this level. Don't miss the part about him and his female friend being kidnapped and hustled...and surviving by plying their captives with booze...
I keep wondering why Guy doesn't do a film of J.K. Huysmans' A Rebours.