On the last day of November, Chip spent his hour commute composing a suicide letter in his head, absently passing pokey sedans, picturing his boss’s face when the dickhead heard about the tragedy . . .
I look at my belly in the mirror, swollen to the size of a basketball at seven months pregnant . . .
Featured: Music/Popular Culture/Art
- The Plot Against Hip Hop
- What Else Is in the Teaches of Peaches – STANDARD EDITION
- Of Grunge and Government: Let’s Fix this Broken Democracy!
- Scars of the Soul Are Why Kids Wear Bandages When They Don’t Have Bruises
- Jerusalem Calling
- Go the Fuck to Sleep
- All the Power: Revolution Without Illusion
- Hard Art, DC 1979
- Sale GTFTS/YHTFE Bundle
- A Secret History of Coffee, Coca & Cola