You know the story. As folklore has it, this plucky little fellow, sitting atop a pile of his compeers and extending a sweaty pincher towards emancipation, will never make it out of the bucket. And that has nothing to do with any crab-shortcomings of his own. Rather, the fable tells us, it’s the cranks he’s [...]
A shrine to tanning oil, rum hangovers and salty white sand in your girlfriend’s belly button. Joe’s loft, Montreal.
Remember I was telling you about my man Rob Brezsny and his weekly, on-the-money astrological forecasts for Sagittarians? Well I found an ancient specimen of these, last night, cut and pasted into one of my “inspiration” notebooks, next to some embarrassing Deepak Chopra quotes I will not reproduce here. (You should see these books. They [...]
Yesterday morning at breakfast, I fell off my chair while simultaneously spraying a mouthful of Weetabix and soymilk all over last week’s New Yorker. Lo and behold, the magazine, which I have pedestalized into a paragon of journalistic virtue and rectitude, a Mecca of accuracy, (I mean what sort of publication goes as far as [...]