Studio Sixty Six
Babes need angels in this city, but who can tell who's who?
But most of all, I will not die.
I was born of dew-soaked burlap, wanting so badly to be a prophet, to learn from the oracle in the movie.
In the beginning (it is always the beginning).
I’ve killed spiders and put them in jars to underscore the intense violence of that action.
Panic struck at the athenaeum; I ripped out pages from every book and shoved them down my throat
Preserving the fold I
The Myth of the Phrasemaker’s Parrot / What Heard the Hysteric.
Those were deep and troubled oceans, weren't they.
Untitled (a terrible collapse)