The cruise missile ceasefire betwixt the miniskirted It-girls and the cyborg toyboys was worth cool megabucks to the power-dressing eggheads down in the Big Apple. It wasn’t some peacenik, hippy love-in, by any means, but the avant garde was held in check by psychedelics discretely popped into sugary lattes and acid-laced microchips, respectively. It was…
My commitment to what the kids call "blogging" is unfaithful and sporadic (obvious to anyone taking note of the hunormous gaps between entry dates here). Even since childhood, attempts at keeping a regular journal of daily events -- whether or not life's been exciting -- have escaped me. I overscrutinize everything I write, and it's…
I'm finally trying to do something with my site. Rather than clearing out the cobwebs, I figured I'd just tear the whole damned thing down and start from scratch.