At the same McDonald’s on the outskirts of Kyiv – near that very same waste bin from where the cheese-smeared wax paper that once covered a hamburger, which has been…

A briefing, with The Dancing Girl in tow, in lieu of a job not done by T.H. Cornish I had the tickets for me and The Dancing Girl for the…

And stuff your fat face cheap with hearty good fast Ukrainian eats Not just your average shitty Cornish food review (of absolutely no value to the story) Being only my…

A corner of the otherwise dark bar is illuminated and serves as a sort of makeshift stage with a microphone and stand Sweaty Tank Top is standing under the light…

A review spliced from meaningless notes, scraps of faded memory Inside New-York Bagel, after The Dancing Girl and Manny Face left, my Second Self suddenly stood over me and from…

But, predictably, is freaked out by transmogrified images WL: Nyug – I think I’ll just sit here in the comfort of my own work-study-writing den and watch myself on YouTube…

Jeb Dickeys is trying to say how he’s been a writer and publisher for a long time but everyone just calls him a fucking old man and tells him to…

The Ferret, wearing a peaked Tyrolean hat replete with feather sticking out of the band, tight green britches, flannel suspenders, a little vest and dark sunglasses, is sitting late night…

The Journal of Manny Face, Installment 2 So this is how I saw Fellini’s “La Dolce Vita” last week at the Kyiv Cinema, off of Lva Tolstogo Square. I’m an…

A heavy metal door bangs open into the night. Fast footsteps slap the pavement in escape… Splashing through a puddle, scaring a stray cat, he keeps running, if not fast,…