Sometimes, when it seems like the hopeful thing to do, I believe in alternate universes. Infinite Earths, and the like. Mostly, I believe that for every choice I make, there’s somewhere in the quantum whatever where I made the right choice instead. (Which, I suppose,
You ever see Temple of Two Gods? The best way I can describe it is…okay, did you ever read that one Seuss story about the two armies who go all fucknuts over which side to butter bread on? It’s like that, only the bread is
I’ve stayed in a lot of hotels over the years. Not traveling salesmen amounts of hotels, but a fair few. Bland hotels, fancy hotels, cheap hotels, so on and so forth. A variety, is the point I’m getting at. This hotel’s got some weird deco.
It was, all things considered, a lovely day for a run… Out the back door of the coffee shop… Into a sunny, wide alley that had an inexplicable mini-park planted off-center in it… While being pursued by a half-dozen football players who were built like
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This is how Billy Bart got his good luck charm: See, out past the edge of town, there used to be a rifle range. A big area full of whatever critters God had seen fit to put there instead of man. Nowadays, we’d call it
Girls who make you mixtapes are the best girls in the world. On this, I shit you not. (Guys who make mixtapes are, well, guys.) Anyway. This one girl? She made a friend of mine a mash-up mixtape once. This was before the Grey Album,