Dive into the archives.
- one last dispatch before the desert.
Last night I dreamt the Pacific was boiling.
I had walked barefoot down Highway 166, following great ghostly pillars of steam through Guadalupe, past migrant farms and moon-drenched murals depicting life en la frontera.
When I reached the coast, the ocean had mostly burned away, and on the barren seabed lay Detroit, all in flames.
At my side, [...]
- pirate radio.
“Then I fell into the slipstream of memory,” he says. And I’m just nodding because he’s making a weird kind of sense that dances up my spine, all wispy electric current.
Alls I can figure is it’s like when someone asks me if I recall some faded moment and I lick my finger and hold it [...]
- a quiet red alert.
I am homeless.
Not in that “heehee, I’m just waiting to move into my new place” way either. It’s more the “my family relationships have finally disentegrated to the point where they no longer exist and I have nowhere left to go” kind of way.
The street kid returns to the street.
When my paycheck comes Friday, I [...]
