When
I arrived in N.Y.C. in 1965 (Lower East Side) from the borough of Brooklyn; after years of being stifled by suffocating middle class values, and parental expectations of what I really should be doing in life, I had recently read, “On The Road” and was primed to run in the starting blocks. In a flash [...]
Filed under: Gene Bloom
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OMEGA 7 “FROM HIVE THIS MIND”
is designed, edited, and created by Michael Annis, senior editor and founder of Howling Dog Press. The Featured Artist for OMEGA 7 is Henry Avignon. OMEGA 7 is comprised of dynamic and visionary work by 45 writers whose poetry, stories and Hinge applications cover progressive politics, global warming, governmental [...]
Filed under: Michael Annis
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Filed under: PORN! BOOK'S! & MAG'S!
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Even if you have never seen a porn movie in your lifetime, almost everyone in the world knows what the ‘Wakka Chikka Wakka Chikka’ represents… Each person, upon hearing it, mentally interprets the ‘Wakka Chikka Wakka Chikka’ in their own way, fueling a range of emotions from lust to disgust. This CD represents 17 individual [...]
Filed under: PORN! MUSIC!
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When I was a kid I used to know a guy who was good with his fists. In fact, I never saw anyone up close as good as he was. He had the footwork, a regular Gene Kelly, he could dance just beyond anyone’s right cross, he never got caught in an upper cut trap. He could see a left coming from a block away. But the real magic was in his fists. He worked them the way Picasso worked the paint brushes, he worked them the way Houdini did padlocks, he worked them the way Hemingway worked the shotguns. And, this guy took on the neighborhood and the best part of it was there was no one who could take him. The only problem was he was a sucker for the easy score. He got caught up in some kind of stick up and got sent to the pen. After that I lost track of him. But while he lasted he was good, he was the best I’d ever seen.
Filed under: Todd Moore
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When I was a kid I used to know a guy who was good with his fists. In fact, I never saw anyone up close as good as he was. He had the footwork, a regular Gene Kelly, he could dance just beyond anyone’s right cross, he never got caught in an upper cut trap. He could see a left coming from a block away. But the real magic was in his fists. He worked them the way Picasso worked the paint brushes, he worked them the way Houdini did padlocks, he worked them the way Hemingway worked the shotguns. And, this guy took on the neighborhood and the best part of it was there was no one who could take him. The only problem was he was a sucker for the easy score. He got caught up in some kind of stick up and got sent to the pen. After that I lost track of him. But while he lasted he was good, he was the best I’d ever seen.
Filed under: essays by todd moore
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was a great dark force, a black mountain of fire in the world of writing. And, when he died he left a huge, gaping hole in that world. I never had the pleasure of meeting the man though there are a few stories around to the contrary. He worked the L.A. scene pretty much the way Raymond Chandler did. He made Los Angeles his stomping grounds. And, I worked the midwest. Rockford, Chicago, the alleys, the diners, the creeks, the flea bags, the bars, the ditches.
Filed under: Charles Bukowski, Todd Moore
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Filed under: Ed Galing
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Filed under: Todd Moore
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Filed under: essays by todd moore
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