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The Front: Bush at War: Laura PDF E-mail
In the headlights of the parked cars. Saw Laura. Drinking peach / schnapps and orange juice. Cheeks flushed. Singing. And turning / circles. In Midland. Those gravel pits. Those dry hot nights.
Burning Man: Jaime Meets A Pervert (Or the Pink Pussy Cat Lounge story) PDF E-mail
I mean, when else am I going to be in a Pink Pussy Cat Lounge in the Kidney Room with an eighty-year old man asking me to hold his pink dildo strap-on as he goes down on it?
New York: Wet Promise PDF E-mail
Look dick head! In this country, we do whatever the fuck we want!
Fly Fishing Romania PDF E-mail
A couple of weeks after arriving in Bucharest, I received an invitation to attend a party. The purpose of the get-together was to welcome the new Fulbrighters, and at the gathering was a Romanian professor of British Studies. I remembered him from my previous posting, five years before, but we hadn't interacted much. British Studies and American Studies in Romania are rivals for students interested in pursuing English-language study, and the American and British departments can sometimes resemble belligerent fiefdoms.
New York: Ira Cohen & The Night A Fried Egg Went to the Whitney PDF E-mail
“…I’m very glad to see you,” Bissinger said, turning to a sweaty, hulking man in a “Poetry at Gunpoint” T-shirt who had flecks of fried egg in his wiry white beard. Bissinger and the man, Ira Cohen…”
Tokyo: Dead Time at the Hospice PDF E-mail
Cynthia seems to have come barging out of her mom's womb with a gargantuan knack for getting into trouble. That's the only explanation for her life. But when she showed up in Tokyo last month, she outdid herself. Cynthia fucked up so badly, and so creatively, that even the cops were stunned.

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