The further adventures of Froggy Chocolates, as he’s abducted by aliens, learns firsthand the difference between ‘good’ and ‘bad’, gets a valuable life lesson from Sammy Davis Jr. and gets to sing everybody’s favorite Jimi Hendrix song. Sort of.
“If Tennessee Williams doesn’t know what to do with his life, why should I worry?” ~ Eddie Woods, Tennessee Williams in Bangkok Eddie Woods and I go back to October 1978. It was in Amsterdam at the Ins & Outs HQ and then the following evening at the One World Poetry event at Amsterdam’s pop… Read more »
In 1988, “ace” reporter Mike Taibbi (yes, the father of Matt Taibbi, whom we hold in great esteem) produced and aired a 3-part expose on the satanic cult masquerading as a rock band – Missing Foundation.
Welcome to Derbytown I got off the plane around midnight and no one spoke as I crossed the dark runway to the terminal. The air was thick and hot, like wandering into a steam bath. Inside, people hugged each other and shook hands … big grins and a whoop here and there: “By God! You… Read more »
A few choice photographs of Terry Southern, one of the great writers of the ’60s, with the Beatles, the Stones, William S. Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, Bob Dylan, Dennis Hopper and Jean Genet.
John S. Hall, of King Missile fame, reads a poem, “I Hate this Guy,” that he apparently wrote on his way over to the club on his Blackberry. As soon as John Kruth is ready on sitar, he quits it and moves on to “How They F***ed,” which was originally published in Sensitive Skin #7. Brilliant, hilarious and seriously NSFW.
“glory wreathes, flutes” • Karen Garthe, “Buckle Up, Sweetie” bart plantenga I buy beer when other purchasing behavior fails. I drink beer to slow down the ridiculous spin of this earth & defuse those who speak kindly of this spin. With too much beer – which I have learned is just about enough – I can even… Read more »
[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OqEeL1QzGsc[/youtube] BEER MYSTIC: Read Beer Drink Novel: I thought by serving words in the name of beer & side effect mysticism would be repaid in not only the enchantment of words & the joy you can glean &/or scrape off that enchantment & how, arranged in horizontal rows, words continue to beguile, charm, lead us places…. Read more »
“George, I wish you’d look at the nursery.” “What’s wrong with it?” “I don’t know.” “Well, then.” “I just want you to look at it, is all, or call a psychologist in to look at it.” “What would a psychologist want with a nursery?” “You know very well what he’d want.” His wife paused in… Read more »
Part I On 25 March an unusually strange event occurred in St. Petersburg. For that morning Barber Ivan Yakovlevitch, a dweller on the Voznesensky Prospekt (his family name is lost now—it no longer figures on a signboard bearing a portrait of a gentleman with a soaped cheek, and the words: “Also, Blood Let Here”)—for that… Read more »
Genuine virtuosos are a rare breed. They defy categorization simply by existing. Their visionary ingenuity radiates from their work in spades, and effortlessly so. It can come at a price, in terms of their creations being lost on society at large, but in a world fraught with rules and restrictions prescribed by self-proclaimed authorities from… Read more »
In the most ancient regions of Tlön, the duplication of lost objects is not infrequent. Two persons look for a pencil; the first finds it and says nothing; the second finds a second pencil, no less real, but closer to his expectations.
A discussion with activist cartoonist and BEER MYSTIC host, Ken Avidor [here posed as Greek God of Mini-Golf, Nkolfus, in Asbury Park, c. 1984]. I knew Ken [aka Weiner] for many years in NYC, during its – or was it just our – heyday, the 1980s. This mad cartoonist worked a day job as art director… Read more »
Fortunately, not everyone has to experience the daily life of madness and insanity of a spouse with a severe mental illness. It’s akin to watching a portrait you adore manifest into something you no longer know or even recognize. It was 1989, Lou Reed had just released ‘New York’ to critical acclaim, and I’d just… Read more »
They switched the time of day but every day for one year, Monday through Friday we had seventh grade science with Mr. Stern, after school, Neil Brown and I would tear over to Friendly’s or Burger King in his mom’s Camaro and then, hopped up on burgers and milkshakes we’d fly a brakeless Schwinn down… Read more »