

“And it’s a place you have to be careful about, a place you don’t want to hang around too long, because it’s a funny sort of place, like I said, with a funny sort of way of making you forget just where you came from, and how you might go back. You might even start…
“I hadn’t planned for this conversation with Homer Flynn to happen. It took place over a thousand days ago in a busy restaurant, a couple of hours before The Residents would perform their 50th Anniversary show.”
Each button, it turned out, led to a new page with dozens of images displayed under headers like “Slammed,” “Punctured,” “Scraped”. Single words, violent but nonspecific, doing nothing to help explain the images beneath them, which were all like the one on the front page: sludgy, indistinct pools of hazy color, vague shapes jumbled together…
An effeminate man invites a beautiful young skinhead into his home. Masculinity, the other, limit experience.
The absolute bizarre experiences of touring, noise shows, strange personalities in subculture, and being caught up in the antics of peers.
A wide range of artists from a variety of disciplines deliver sinister incantations.
The Tyrant Queen of Iron City presents us with a bouquet of petty grievances.
The freaked-out, bored, alienated observations of the Beautiful Boy looking out on his suburban purgatory.
An imminently depressing, short, contemplative piece of empty, alien-world-wandering SF.
An attempt to locate a distinctly feminine “non-tyranical monstrosity” in Ted K’s life and work