“Now what the fuck are we gonna do? Mr. Burnt Sienna’s fuckin’ dead! That means I’ll have no one to bounce my sarcastic pop-culture references off of!”
Whether it’s Yugoslavian rap, or Finnish ska, I’ll keep you posted on all the happenings that are bound to eventually filter down to your gutter culture anyway.
“What have we been doing this evening, Mr. McCue?” he demanded in a mystic Russian accent. There, in my doorway, dressed as the King of Siam, was Yul Brynner.
Here I have a novel featuring Sixties’ rebels wrapped in a wicked suspense narrative, and I am ITCHING to give the Furthur Festival folks a 40% off sticker.
Not only is Burroughs’ passing the end of a bizarre and tragic life, it’s the end of a strange, horrible and wonderful era – last call for the Beat Generation.
It feels as if the universe took a deep, final breath, shuddered, and collapsed, leaving nothing but an infinite black hole in the center of your being.
I didn’t have anything against Jes. I didn’t know she was his fuckin’ sister. If I’d known, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten involved, but then again I doubt it.
R. Crumb Coffee Table Book will feature some Crumb stories in color for the first time, some unpublished work, and photos of his oil paintings and sculptures.