Back to Hell (read “work”), with no fallen angels or damned souls. Only the Boss, me, and the Guardian of the Keys, drinking mud puddle buzz
Staring at Harper’s mag with Crumb’s Monkey Wrench Gang comersh and an enigmatical phrase : “Looked at him, but couldn’t get a read on him”.
I noticed I was able to spell “Phoebe Legere” with eight keys on my laptop, then listened to Lois V. Vierk on roulette TV and it was boring.
I wanted a camera, the nikon SP, a legend. And as soon I got it, I knew I had to leave everything and everyone to roam the roads with tramps
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