Love someone

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… to Skip Johnson, my friend forever

Chine Kantner, for being herself

mom and dad for giving me more than existence

Love someone

Chris Wing, for a child’s outlook on things

To Paul Cantner, for humor and immense help with my selective memory

Andrea Kagan, for friendship, an open heart and an open mind

Brian Roen, for introducing me to my agent

Love someone

Maureen Regan, my agent, for having confused my head by persuading me to write this book (and for getting "long dollar", respectively) – as well as for unlimited energy in both personal and business matters

Rick Horgan, my editor, for his suggestions and permission "have some fun"

groups "The great society", "Airplane" and "Starship" and all who joined for their talent and support

Sister Pat Monaan, for Bucky and for the ability to listen

Vincent Marino, for almost damn, unconditional love

Ron Neumann, for embellishing the appearance of my head and putting its inner contents in order

Love someone

Justin Davis, for uniqueness and photos

and, naturally, to all the people that followed our music all these years.

The second method, which turned out to be more successful, was that Andrea gave me a plan for each part, consisting of the topics we discussed. Based on this, I described everything I could remember: the facts or my own interpretation of another episode of my life. Then Andrea (professional, after all) disciplined my thoughts and my terrible punctuation. I can come up with an interesting scene or create a plausible dialogue, but the differences between commas and colons have always seemed to me to be something like gastrointestinal surgery. Yes, all this is my words, but they, like an airplane, cannot do without the runway, the mechanics and the control tower.

Grace Slick Book "Somebody To Love?" for me – not so much an attempt to convey the atmosphere surrounding one of the strongest vocalists of rock music, as an attempt to express their point of view. Because, as Grace herself writes: "I always have something to say". Choosing which chapters to publish, I tried to focus attention on the least well-known, but nonetheless extremely interesting facts from Grace’s biography (outlined, it must be said, with all its characteristic sarcasm in relation to itself and to the surrounding reality).

Chicago, 1973. "Jefferson airplane" tuned in, and I’m standing on the stage, getting ready to sing. Someone in the hall gets up and shouts: "Hey, Gracie, take off your chastity belt!"

I look straight at him and say: "What are you, I’m not wearing underwear". I lift up a skirt that all had time to notice, and the hall explodes with laughter. By the edge of my ear, I hear the guys from the group mumble behind their backs: "Lord "

My reaction was, in fact, polite, compared to what I did in Germany 4 or 5 years later: I was drunk, went up to the guy who was sitting in the front row, and picked at his nose. That was the evening when I first left the group. More precisely, I dismissed myself. For various reasons, which I will talk about later, having drunk the entire contents of the minibar in my hotel room before the concert, I ran this guy’s fingers in my nostrils simply because, as it seemed to me, they were laid. Fortunately, these Germans have never seen us before, so they probably decided that we were a punk band, and simply did not pay attention …

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