Motes in the void.
You can still have the 2020 of your dreams with the Surrealist Almanac.
Back in September I invited my newsletter subscribers to play a flash fiction game with me. Now the results are in, and mighty fine they are too!
Amok, I tell you!
William Burroughs' control has given way. Trump is part of an underground Thatcherism whose films have repeatedly excluded and contained each of the reasons that I simply jaw adulation beyond the constant seesawing between revolutionary and taboo by positing what it doesn't mean. Could be more. From a bleakly perfect storm of chaos and sex … Continue reading Don’t Call Back