"But working on stories and the attention that came with them was never enough. Tucked in safe suburban redoubts, kids who had it soft like me manufactured peril. When there is no edge we make our own, reaching for something that would approximate the cliché of being fully alive because we could die at any minute. That search for sensation leads to the self divorcing from the body, à la Descartes, and a life of faux peril. Everything that brought me joy involved risk. “Yes, let’s do mescaline, and sure, let’s wander out onto that trestle bridge hundreds of feet over the St. Croix River. I’m pretty sure we’ll hear a train if it comes, right?” My friends would do LSD and stare at the marvel of their own hands. I’d drop acid and organize a road trip."
— David Carr
