I have a piece out today at Queen Mob’s Teahouse on Vanessa Place and the AWP controversy. But it’s not just about them. 

Anyone could assume I just wanted to see the patterns on the train’s seats, that I didn’t care if I got to San Francisco or not.  I was a fly on a wall, an ant combing over the crumbs of human experience, and at best a scavenger of lost dialogue floating by.
Anyone could assume I just wanted to see the patterns on the train’s seats, that I didn’t care if I got to San Francisco or not. I was a fly on a wall, an ant combing over the crumbs of human experience, and at best a scavenger of lost dialogue floating by.