Volume 13 Issue 12
Nakedness
He thinks: She sees him through the kitchen window taking off his clothes to put in the washer. It's night, past 12; his wife's in bed, going to sleep.
"Gjennom Nattens Identitet" ("Through the Identity of the Nighttime")
This is an excerpt from the book Nasjonalsatanisten (The National Satanist) by Erlend Erichsen, translated for Vice.
Tidbits
If you're going to release a board game you might as well spend more than ten minutes putting it together. The squares on this game say things like "Someone insults you-miss a turn."
His & Hers Watches
He called into a local radio station upward of 60 times in January of 1989. Provided a series of correct answers that surpassed the other callers’ series of answers and advanced southward to the state capital for the semi-finals.
At Chumley's
Since 1928, Chumley's on Bedford Street in Greenwich Village has sat behind an unmarked door. It started as a speakeasy and gradually became the gold standard of writers’ bars in New York.
Limited Edition Job
I had been tipped off in advance that Dave wanted to see me. A cross between David Koresh and David Ike dressed from head to toe in Japanese street wear brands, Dave was the owner of the trendy clothes shop I worked in.
A Cartoon By Flannery O'connor
Flannery O'Connor's short stories are really funny, but no one ever talks about that. It might be because the jokes aren't haw-haw jokes, or it might be because the humor is so dark that a lot of people don't have the taste for it.
Thank You From Baghdad
Yesterday (I write this on 6 November 2006) I was handed my verdict in a trial that to me was more of a circus than anything else.
From The Diaper of Big Baby Jesus
The following is a conversation I recorded between Ol' Dirty Bastard and Clint Eastwood at a special screening in Los Angeles for the film The Bridges of Madison County. This is only a small portion of a much-longer four-hour-plus transcript.
Books On A Budget
Do you like spending shitloads of money on stuff you don't really need? I mean who are you, really, if you can't drop a couple thou here and there on what-ever-the-fuck? What's the point of even drawing another breath if you can't live a little?