I'm With the Band: Confessions of a Groupie

by Pamela Des Barres

I had given up trying to impress people who didn’t impress me.

You might say I’m rather lost in this big mixed-up place we call life.

I got down on my knees with them in front of their TV set to pray with Billy Graham, and afterward I wondered if all the acid trips in the world could help me make sense of it all.

We got to talking about people; Mick Jagger is made of the same stuff that he is, I’m made out of the exact same stuff as Liz Taylor and Lady Bird Johnson, EVERYone is grand, they’re just taking different pathways to ultimately the same goal (even if some aren’t aware of it).

“You don’t love me, but you will never forget me.”

The Catholic church is so overly powerful in Italy; brainwashed people. I’m sure Jesus is more depressed with the Pope (who seems to be an extreme money-monger) than he is with an old drunk in the street. Perhaps I sound blasphemous, but it’s what I believe.

just read something that Joan Baez said, “You can’t dwell on the past and memories of old, or you miss the minute of NOW.”

My Prince Charming dreams are fading . . . I think he’s off with Snow White somewhere, or maybe he died; his famous white horse threw him and he broke his neck.

No matter how many stars I wish on, how many eyelashes I blow into the wind, or how many dandelion fluffs I scatter, I feel him slipping away.