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By this point, I’m sure I exhibit many of the characteristics of an addict: rearranging my life to get the next fix, spending exorbitant amounts of money beyond my budget for a few hours of an intangible high.  And it keeps taking more and more to get me there.  My tastes have changed.  I go for the dark stuff now, the hardcore shit, the violent and the disturbing and the audacious.

But at one point, I was innocent.  I didn’t even realize when I used for the first time, it was so unexpected and unintended.  In fact, it was my mom who introduced me, though she didn’t know at that time any more than I how potent this stuff was.  I bet now she regrets her role in coercing me to give it a try.  How could she have known how life-changing this substance is?

I don’t blame her.  She didn’t know any better.  And by my standards now, what she introduced me to was light stuff, hardly cause for concern.  Yet it was she who was my first dealer, who gave me my first taste of the stimulant better known as DANCE in the form of my gateway drug: Paul Taylor.

My review from his company’s recent appearance in San Diego can be found here.

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