In Memorium: Jim Carroll | September 25, 2009 |
Were I to finally succumb to the quasi-cosmic entropy that envelops soft California skulls, I’d blame the melodramatically named “Summer of Death” on a psychic shift between old and new blood, some paroxysm of pestilence, some inauspicious wormhole of time. But I don’t buy it. This is nothing more than a litany of “So […]