It's like my Vegas life.
Ever wonder what it's like to be a tweaker and live in a house full of tweakers? Watch this movie. The twitches, the conversations, the paranoia, the junkie logic...
Looking in my jewelry box last week, yunatwilight expressed astonishment - "So much of this doesn't look like it's yours." My response: "I was lots of other people on the way to being me."
This was me, a fragment, a shed self.
Don't know if I want to keep watching.
EDIT: From Dick's afterword:
This has been a novel about some people who were punished far too much for what they did. They wanted to have a good time, but they were like children playing in the street; they could see one after another of them being killed ... but they continued to play anyhow....
There is no moral in this novel; it is not bourgeois; it does not say they were wrong to play when they should have toiled; it just tells what the consequences were.
They remain in my mind, and the enemy will never be forgiven. The "enemy" was their mistake in playing. Let them all play again, in some other way, and let them be happy.