It was snowing softly again and my Citroen DS sped through the streets of Paris. I was riding extremely long and low, with the scent of champagne coloring my breath. I haven’t seen snow in Paris for 2 or 3 years, maybe more. Usually I winter elsewhere, and only fly in on the odd day.
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Brothers! Sisters! Comrades! The revolution is here, so get up off your feet, get in the street, and let the music play!
I’m a revolutionary, and my crew of international soundbombers travels the world exposing people to the world beyond the tyranny of top 40, the oppression of old sounds, the rotting corpse of corporate control…
I’m a revolutionary, but I’m also an American.
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The fetid city steam of Paris, London and Berlin was at last behind me. The pressed flesh packed into underground trains, the sullen stares of broken people, the carefully ordered streets… all of it was lost to the sea breeze in my new location.
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Life is nothingness, and nothingness is life. Greetings, friend and associates from around the globe. It is I, Terrence, American Buddhist, with a brand new review– a first for this space as it’s a live concert review.
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Greetings, brothers, sisters, friends, adoring fans. I, Terrence, American Buddhist, would like to thank you for your support through the years. Who knows where I’d be without your caring, your words of encouragement, your felonious transmission of cannabis buds and leaves through the mail…
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Each year, USOUNDS selects a poet laureate in order to recount the tales of bravery, debauchery, and delusions of grandeur that are so common to our fleet of Journalists. In the past our laureates have been pale young gentlemen with faux-meek demeanors that belie a core of pretension and rage. This year’s selection, Karim Oates, is no exception. His first assignment was to sub for a drug-addled Lance F. Rockaway and cover the first of two sold-out Interpol shows in Los Angeles…
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The Case of the Valentine’s Day Ex
Through a haze of smoke a smooth-skinned sista called my name. “Yes, I’m Hammett, please, come in.” My secretary was on permanent vacation after her no-account motofreak boyfriend had breezed into town with a fifth of Jameson and keys to a cheap motel room downtown.
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