Category: Thoughts Out Of Season

4:52 am… There’s something about the northern spring air that really lets you know you’re alive. It has this old icy smell and taste to it, as if the wind had traveled across a great distance of time and space…

All is quiet. Dawn’s hush has silenced the voodoo chickens, as gray clouds smother the morning sky.

4:38 am… The bells of the voodoo gypsy queen jingle in rhythmic mockery of Holy Mother Church, as she proudly prances across the gray slate of Jackson Square… With a whisper and a smile, she’ll tell your tale.

5:54 am… The water slowly drips into the coffeepot as voodoo chickens call in the day. I’m thinking about the wide expanse of Earth – living on Earth, walking on Earth, breathing on Earth. I want to go where the…

Then it hits you… the universe is radically indifferent towards human suffering; life, is meaningless. The Last Man trembles at such an awakening, and seeks to hide himself within the fog of mystical realms; while the Übermensch embraces his awakening,…

I ran into a lost soul huddled in a sunlit doorway; crumpled, twisted, drooling – river of piss flowing fresh to the curb… who came up with this idea?

You’re 3 to 5 baby, only 3 to 5. Yes, that’s right my old buskin’ buddy, you’ve reached the end of Buskers’ Road. The years have rolled on by without your notice, and now the fresh morning air hits your…

Wild Jazz pulsates from the plastic dime-store radio, as the hashish smoke rolls out the kitchen window and onto the drizzle-soaked streets of the upper 9th ward. Another rainy night in New Orleans …