Introductions

A dark parking lot somewhere in New York.
Here lurks the diseased brain born of a post-American dream world. Nah, this isn't meant to be as dramatic as that first bit set up for. Instead I bring you drippings from the seething brain-pan of a mind damaged by comic books, alcohol and punk rock. This panacea mixed with the tonic of sleep deprived paranoia coming to you from the cramped interior of a cab.

Witness: the vile insights of a man raised by slasher flicks .
Marvel: at the bombast thrown around by this shabby figure as he reports live from a secret location, or ventures out of his mobile lair.
Cower: at the unmitigated horror of of an English degree let loose upon an unsuspecting world.
Shriek: well, no you probably won't have anything to shriek about really. After all I'm really doing this to entertain myself.

As you might have noticed with that whole "post-American dream" bit I have my head part way up my ass, and I won't deny that. It may be a wee bit much. Yeah, it may be a little hyperbolic to declaim the end of the American Dream, but given my experience I'm inclined to. We now live in a place where hard work and perseverance only seem to be enough to get you to the next day. I'm not arguing for a new economic model just yet, just acknowledging my place in a group of people for which this present one doesn't seem to be working.

Hopefully I'll actually come back to this, maybe even write a few things worth reading in here.

Coming up: Weekend concerts, play by play on whatever fares strike me as interesting, comic books, beer, and likely some whining.