It seems like I’ve been the topic of discussion in a couple of the last issues of your paper [“Crackin’ Up,” RJ Smith, October 21; Letters, November 4]. Well, here’s what I, G.G. Allin, have to say. Print as is. Don’t edit this. RJ had his say. So now I get mine.
I am the blood and guts. What I do on stage I do everywhere I play, not just NYC. I do wanna fuckin die on stage. I’m serious. Every time I step on stage could be my last show because I’m not affraid of nothing. I go over the edge. Others just talk about it. But I got the balls to do it. I don’t care if everyone hates me cause I’m only doing it for me. Fuck you. I am self-destructive. I drink too much and do too many drugs. So fuckin what. I like the danger of bleeding, cutting myself, beating myself, pain, and total abuse any way I can.
I’ve been carried off stage on stretchers. I’ve been hospitalized many times after gigs for blood poisoning, broken bones, crushed nerves, etc. But it doesn’t fuckin stop me. I’ll never stop. I’ll take on anybody. I shit on you and piss on you. So what. Next time I’m in NYC and RJ cums to my show he can shit on stage and I’ll eat it. I’ve eaten my own shit and drank my own piss on stage, and things up my ass are welcome. I’ll rape any bitch I wanna rape, RJ, so fuck you. Go vomit. I just did.
Drink, fight, and fuck.
Manchester, New Hampshire