The low hum of a busy city pouring through a window is what woke me up. I blinked and looked around, not recognizing a thing. I was in a bed, not my own, and there was a woman next to me, asleep. Suddenly a looming terror hit me like a king wave– I didn’t know who she was, and I didn’t know who I was either.
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Greetings friends, admirers, and fellow-travellers from around the globe. The new year finds me in high spririts and deeply committed to my Buddhist ideals. I have fully embraced the life of aesticism, chastity, purity, and mental clarity informed by nothingness that I was taught at the monastery where I spent much of the 1990’s. But it is a new year and indeed a new millenium, and now I practice my faith from high atop a foothill in Northern California, surrounded by the lush magestry of nature and creation.
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My quest to convert the world to better and more informed musical taste began in college in the innocent days of 1967. I realized that while the Beatles and the Rolling Stones were nice, Chuck Berry and Robert Johnson were nicer. Typically, none of my ignorant friends would listen to me.
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Kuuki No Soko by Replicant
It was a late night, the kind that never seems to get old until it’s the next day and you’re wondering where the time went. Hours can be stolen by many things, be they airport lounges, boring conversations, the insidious evil that is Daylight Savings Time…
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The Case of the Missing Brother
I was leaning against the bar of a speakeasy on 52nd street when a small sister who had been sitting on the other side of the room with three other people got up and made her way towards me. I took a slug of my drink and shook my head slightly in anticipation.
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Dear friends, it is with great happiness that I write you from my new retreat in Northern California. Thank you to all of those who have contacted me with kind words, letters, and gifts of a certain variety.
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Fall has come to Washington D.C. Longer shadows drape the brick houses of Georgetown and I stir my Scotch pensively. My beautiful, sensational wife, Coverton, of whom we shall speak no more, has been gone on an extended holiday for some time now and Paris was drowning in women. Sultry chanteuses everywhere but I craved a different kind of excitement…
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