September 11, 2010
The Murky Fringe: So, it’s been a year. How’s it going for you? The Murky Fringe: How’s what going for me? TMF: You know, being clever, amusing yourself, attempting to get some kind of following. TMF: You know what? Fuck yourself. TMF: That would be interesting to attempt. TMF: For the last three hundred and [...]
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July 17, 2010
My father was the napkin you find wadded in your pocket the next morning, no name on it, the ink smeared, the penultimate digit illegible, something on the corner that might either be lipstick or blood. My father was the smell of old man and America in summer—new-mown grass and well-oiled leather, the sweet scent [...]
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