The late ’60s come down to two years musically, and 1968 ain’t one of them.
I walked down Santa Monica Boulevard, past the hustlers lurking near clubs named Offshore Drilling and Spike, past the Pussycat Theater and its chlorinated darkness. I turned left on Fairfax and walked […]
Mirrors, you’re a bunch of dirty liars.
Heroin is some creepy shit.
The home stretch! We’ve almost completed the A to Z of music based on literary works. This last batch has some nice twists and turns.