I’ll be here til the supernova. When I burn-out, I’ll submit love poetry about flowers and shit to the wanker lit. journals from my lean-to in the mountains.
It makes people feel funny, stupid, and important. Much the way large quantities of liquor make people feel. Only instead of puking, you (hopefully) get laid.
“If you’re ever in trouble, call that number,” he said. With his Spanish, it came out as “If you turn left at the chicken babies, then I wanted to dance.”
Things are looking bleak: Murder, suicide, fires, floods, and that seven-headed serpent that’s been outside my window singing the complete score from Showboat.
The Adversary could not remember when he’d had more fun! Randy held him on the hood of the car and waved the gun about. The Adversary said softly, “I love you.”
Valentine’s Day is mating season, a thinly-veiled lie that hides the urge to copulate. A mating ritual passed down through the ages like a genetic disease.
The new issue of Revolve features a cover story on Vermont rap sensation LL Cool Bean, and an interview with Church of Tim Conway founder Hervé Fernandez-Dorf.