“I don’t think there are any Russians
And there ain’t no Yanks
Just corporate criminals
Playing with tanks” — Michael Been
We were innocent.
I sat with a gargoyle under a stone bridge out of the rain, watching a thundershower grouch across the sky from west to east. The storm was a grumpy old man, darkly gray and full of electric invectives, […]
Continue reading "Ten Years Ago …"
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Werewolves prowl the Web by night, call them what you will. They no longer buy into the corporate sponsored propaganda of politicians; they have no faith in corporation churches or the suits and vestments of those who manage them. They seek another Way, a different path. This is the home of one of them. (MORE)
Picture 3 a.m. under a full moon. The city has been washed clean by rain that ended earlier, leaving in its wake a howling wind that propels ragged cloud remnants across the night sky, turning the moonlight off and on like a Valium afflicted neon sign. You walk the empty streets, hands jammed in the pockets of an old mackintosh, stopping now and then to gaze through darkened windows of vacant shops at their displays — strange mannequins painted as grotesque mimes. Or is it simply the way you perceive them in your insomniac state? (MORE)
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Free the werewolves.