Some songs are just made for facing death in Brazilian traffic.
Last Saturday I had an appointment with the Parisian branch of Happy Science, a syncretic Japanese sect that appears to be made up of the most contradictory, gross, bizarre ideas the world has ever mustered up.
Shit. I’ve been determinedly rubbing this metal skewer for more than 25 minutes and it still doesn’t want to bend. I’m doing everything my metal-bending teacher, Jean-Pierre Girard, has instructed me to: I’m wearing green, stroking the rod tenderly...