in ‘66, I was fifteen years-old. I lived in San Francisco, on Ashbury Street, between Haight and Frederick. Two doors up from us was Janis’ apartment, and two doors down was the Grateful Dead’s place. I pretty much learned to play the guitar in Janis Joplin’s little kitchen, and in the Dead’s livingroom. Janis had a warm-spot for me - like a big sister. She always called me Honey-Boy, and she’d tease me with her delightfully crude antics. One day she was teasing me, and asked me how many times I had had sex. Being an ever-so-macho fifteen year-old virgin, I blushed and said, “Oh, about forty times.” She laughed so hard she could barely catch her breath. For the next several minutes, every time she’d start to calm down, she’d look at me and just start howling with laughter again. In between one of her fits of laughter, she said, “Honey-Boy, let me tell you a little something. I’m a woman, and a woman can tell a lot about a man, or in your case a boy, just by looking at ‘em. And I can tell by looking at you that you ain’t never had no pussy.” Back then, I looked up to her because she seemed so much older and wiser than me. A real inspiration. Now, looking back, I am old, and she was not much more than a kid when she died.

- Joel Timothy