I was hoping for this to be a stab at Kerouac’s spontaneous prose, which maybe it will be, but frankly it’s not looking hopeful. I’ve left those books somewhere else and at this foetal stage of a writer’s life it’s important to copy, hard and fast, whatever novelist you can. not so spontaneous at all … Continue reading Burnt out like Roman Candles in the Night
This is the excerpt for your very first post.
God knows why we chose the desert. The chance to go out to the unknown, ride camels, drink coffee and smoke cigarettes in the blistering heat perhaps? The image of it is hard to ignore. Maybe the desert chose us? It’s winds calling from afar. Why are we here for Christ’s sake? Not out of … Continue reading Strange Rumblings of a Sepia Mind
….Reptiles dressed up in human costumes, conscious without consciousness. The only horror in the men in black franchise is that, in reality, these freaks don’t morph into 60ft fanged worms. Somehow that would make things better. Maybe one day, stripped of all identifying characteristics (of which there are few enough already) they’ll be seen for who they are: empty little hermit shells clothed in fashions latest monotonous offering.
“I live in a city but I,
Belong in the fields”
Stokes front man and pretentious city dwelling tosser: Julian Casablancas
Where the fuck did he get that from? Maybe with a $500 haircut and a leather jacket I’d get away with such bare faced hypocrisy. The absence of clamouring hipsters outside of New York would be the stake through his cold dead heart. Who made him ‘unearthly cool’ anyway? NME? They’d hype a living breathing turd if they thought it would…
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