Skeletons, Exploits & Reflections
I knew things were coming to an end. I could feel him slipping away, the black abyss of loss and despair began to overwhelm me. He was spending more time away from the squat getting spun out with the boys we ran with-his best friend Trash, and lofty side kick Fitz. Trash was...
They said, “You don’t want a man like that,” after he left me fiending for his empty promises to come true. A bald, middle aged junkie, fresh off heroin, seeking another kind of fix—the kind of heroine to save him from himself, and I said, “No, let’s take it slow…” I wanted to see...
The Independent is still on a quest to obtain the $3-4,000 worth of equipment that was stolen out of Publisher, Christina Aanestad’s car this past spring. Read here for the story. Since that time, readers and friends have raised enough money for a laptop computer so that the Independent can continue as a monthly...
Since my San Francisco break-in, break-down, and break-through my roommates have started a fund raising campaign to raise the $3,000-$4,000 worth of equipment that was stolen out of the trunk of my car. They’re holding a raffle. $5 a ticket. We’d need to sell at least 600 tickets to acquire all that’s been lost. ...
After a sweet night of lovin with a man of interest, the city I love became cold. It was a fun night-he treated me well-I’ll spare you the delicious details, besides, all good things must come to an end. By the next day, tho, he was cool, aloof, and then sick…waves of reality put...
