Honest criticism and sensitive appreciation are directed not upon the artist but upon the artwork. If we attend to the confused cries of newspaper critics and the susurrus of popular repetition that follows, we shall hear the names of artists in great numbers.

Burn that motherfucker down to the ground. Burn, burn, burn motherfucker, burn, burn, ( Read more... )

Something inside of me has opened, like a great gaping wound in my chest, and all I can feel is the cold inside my soul, passing in and out like a bad dream. On the subject of bad dreams and nightmarish happenings, a few out of sorts events have transpired; vacant cars being pulled over, various figures of my past closing in on me and trying to ( Read more... )

Most of the really bad stuff comes from things like car crashes and hepatitis, but there was always this constant hum of anger and depression, like life’s got a bad disease. I don't think I ever cared; it's hard to say ( Read more... )