NOTE: Run-On King

While revising my fiction work from the last year, prepping some things for sending out, I came upon this sentence out of Bridge, Tunnel -- what a crazy long sentence.  I can't figure out if it is technically correct or not.  It is like a stranger wrote it.



SHE LIVED on West 38th, State Residence, well-protected by cops and military, GuvHaus, the helipad kids in her building called it, (as did Roger) -- these whiz kids, who worked the State landing site at the park, stopped inviting her to the roof to smoke hash after Roger came around; they'd wine and dope, and watch humvees, and put bets on how long the lights would stay on, and on the nights the neighborhood power went down, they would lay against the rough tar of the roof, and wait for the stars to color in as light realigned to old bearings, and they would chant as if they were Indians out of the island's biography corresponded to visible stars.