POST-POST-MODERNISM? PARADOX.

Can’t Stop The Now...

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Digging in the Dirt

It’s been a helluva few years. I had a string of manic episodes, got divorced, lost my apartment of 25 years, and was diagnosed with

Alt77: Hot Rod Stigmata

There’s something campy and demented about William Steffey’s Hot Rod Stigmata that reminds me of the Butthole Surfers if they could stand still for enough

Super Blue Moon

Wednesday night on my couch dropping a dime On myself, circle, and diameter I got the syllables, I got the rhyme Still can’t nail iambic