Black lives still matter, and punching nazis still does too. Since yall have the memory of goldfish, let’s remind ourselves that there’s a connection between white supremacists, cops and murdering people of color that even the FBI reported a loooowng time ago…
And while we’re here, there’s this too:
Been meaning for months to put this zine up. Believe it or not this Puta Cuarentena has me with less free time than ever. Picked up “Drunk Fools,” which is just on my level, from Issues back in the winter and loved it. Comics on drinking, getting naked, evacuation, local heroes and forgetting. A little short, though.
The choices of detail add to the ground-level, convenience-store, dead weeds and garbage that barely separate inner city from edge city and suburb in the canon of such classics as Tales of Blarg/Desperate Times.
The authors only identify themselves by first names Robert and Brian and their Instagram handles @toborobot and @brainvan. Buy all their stuff!
As an aside, Issues, long a supporter of Exitos Gnosis, is closed for good. Find your nearest billionaire international trade pact scumbag, smoker, bushmeat enthusiast, airport crawler, fast-food driver-inner, or human trafficker, and tell them “hey dipshit! Thanks for spreading the virus that killed the rest of the local economy!”
Keep meaning to post this photo. Was drinking with some sk8er doods on the Guadalupe trail (yeah, the one where Byebye and Shlort takes place) and up comes this crawdad, who feared nothing. Fuck your teckate! His arms are raised like the part in Byebye when they go under the freeways and it … wait, no spoilers.
Keep meaning to write up something about the skate ramps etc etc that folks have been building last couple of years, which piss off the water company. This isn’t the moment for me to do that writing, except to say that ever since they’ve been putting those little ramps and stuff up, I feel for the first time that the freeway infrastructure somehow has an essential life force to it. Anyone who’s awake knows that freeway flyovers and their necessary piers and wasted terrestrial underbellies are an abomination. Far from removing these toxic spaces from our towns, the skate gear does put a beautiful human touch to it all, and makes these spaces useful in a down-to-earth way. More on that someday. You can start by reading Folklore of the Freeway.
Just found this huge stash of notes hidden where I’d never find them: in my fartsmone’s “notes” app. I don’t remember writing them. Glad they didn’t get lost!
Love my desk! As you can see there’s no computer on it, which is partially why I use my desk not nearly enough. Can you spot…???
- guitar picks I found on the N-Judah
- Peter Malae’s What We Are
- Guitar string packet
- Jar of pine cones
- Santa Theresa County Park map
- Jimi Hendrix stamps
- Kevin Tucker’s Black and Green Review #4
- Tube of red acrylic paint from who knows where
- Quart of High Life
- All the paper notes for my next novel
- Boessenecker’s Bandido
- Glass guitar slide
- Ruler I never fucking use
Found this guaife-proof Coronita, seven lousy ounces, once again tossed in the recycling in a pack of empties. Froze solid on top in the freezer. Approaching the mid-20s of how many road beers I’ve found since I started looking!
Summer edition, as they say, of Corona. That’s right, it was in a recycling can. Maybe folks should buy beer they don’t want to throw away…? Anyhow, cleaned it good, poured it out, drank it.