ESPO Steve Powers in person! Art opening! White Walls Gallery, 835 Larkin St, SF, CA!
More pictures
Way more pictures
ESPO Steve Powers in person! Art opening! White Walls Gallery, 835 Larkin St, SF, CA!
More pictures
Way more pictures
—I haven’t had a drink since Saturday.
—It’s Wednesday.
—I know
—You sound like an alcoholic.
—I know. It still feels good not to drink. I’m going to keep going with it.
—Good! That’s good.
—Every time I make a proclamation like this I immediately undermine myself, but I sort of want to become totally straight-edge: no booze, no drugs, no [...]
Hey Cancer
How’s “the darkness
Fine
Not as dark as you make it sound
Black beans and codfish
Shapeshifter rsvp’d.
Self-Zine?
Got fired Friday, can’t make it
Dog wearing lipstick?
Dunno, she’s in heat, maybe spayed, upset
really?
aye
listen
Fear-monger
canceled too. it’s just gonna be me you and self-zine
shapeshifter
And li’l caesar
The pizza guy
used to work for Men’s Wearhouse.
Hey whoww ofenn does your zine come out?
—Every other fortnight
does [...]
There is a bowl of chili here.
Steam rises from its beans and meatflecks. It billows politely around a dollop of cold sour cream.
As you gaze into the stew, my face—the face of a young, obese Steven Spielberg, “replete” with undirty baseball cap and full Jewish hair fanning out from beneath the cap’s circumference—appears to you [...]
Four new poems by Richard Parks in Snow Monkey. Love em. “Hey: what’s the Spanish for ‘ass curtain’?”
I really picked the wrong night last night to drink four beers smoke 40 fags and eat a suiza, man, sheesh! Why? Well, today I have to be in 1980s businesswoman drag all day, for work—shoulder-pads, heels, thigh-cut [...]
LI’L TIFFANY: Thirty dollars? Fuck that.
PROVOST GARY: Li’l Tiffany, you spend that much on Vitamin Water and Zen Party Mix every week. And it’s a fundraiser for the Believer magazine, which you’re always reading at Patronio’s house. But you never buy it! And you love Nick Hornby’s “sensibility.” And look at this effing still from [...]
A brilliant new (“old”) essay by Gideon Lewis-Kraus in the October 09 Harper’s.
Here’s a nug:
It is an exurbo-Republican myth that these growers are rolling in free, if bloodstained, drug money—$13 billion worth—under marmalade skies; this small-scale pot husbandry is closer to the hardscrabble yeoman ideal that most upstanding citizens would celebrate.
TED BILLIONS: I know you’re burned out, Leland. Hang in there
LELAND: Fuck this. Fuck you.
TED: You are a very privileged person. You’re looking a gift horse in the mouf
LELAND: And you’re looking a gift horse in its butt. Parry! Thrust!
TED: I’m wounded. You’ll pay for this
LELAND: What part of me gives you the sense that [...]
Hey Thank You The Rumpus and Stephen Elliott Enterprises For Giving This Webiste Another Vote of Confidence! Welcome, Subsistence Farmers! (??)
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There was a film crew setting up on Valencia & 20th st this morning, 9:30ish. It provoked immediate resentment, does every time. Not sure why. [Notes: Obese Tom Stoppardesque/Wildean artist/novelist/writer envisions a scene for his [...]