Ones to watch in 2009:
Captain Smack. He's back from his year long, drug-induced coma, the big pussy and my world is a happier place. Nobody does it better, to get all Thom Yorke sings Carly Simon on your asses.
Tuesday Kid. He's talking about giving up the crack. Hopefully he's full of shit.
Sweary. Another resurrecter. Another belly full of proper writing. She got it all wrong on 'Stop the Cavalry', but.
Radge. He's grown on me, this guy, grown on me like the itchy, painful, allegedly not skin cancer patches of dry skin on my left shoulder and upper arm. I'm not saying he's fatal, but he's certainly worthy of a psychosomatic stopping by.
Any random fucker turning their bleugh into an illiterate Sitonmyfacebook love-in where everything is just fucking peachy all the time.
Probably you just want to concern yourself with that last one. They, like economic collapse and the dumbing down of anything that you might once have held sacred, are what the future holds.
Today's massive hit producing Title
The Poses of Prose: On Writing, Yoga, and Embodiment
16 hours ago