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Remembering Violence Barn (an excerpt)

I was recently alerted by some shit on twitter that Silent Barn in New York is still a functioning entity. Well golly, wasn't I overcome by a fond wave of nostalgia. Here is an excerpt from Journey to the Center of the Dream, chronicling a midwestern rube's impressions of the Big Apple and Silent Barn in particular. Don't expect accuracy; I was drunk and dumbstruck. photo by Tina at epictheatre.blogspot.com Chapter 11 We got into New York in the middle of the night. Already my impression of the eastern seaboard was of one sprawling mass of human insanity with no seams between cities. But as we funneled into NYC, the whole thing grew exponentially, like something angry rising up out of the gr

Guest Fiction! High Score by Lanny Durbin

I read some bullshit in an article about recalled memories. This quack scientist or whatever hypothesized that our minds are never recalling the original memory, just the last time we thought about the memory. So by the time we've thought about the damn thing so many times it's been distorted to the point where you're probably not remembering it exactly how it happened anymore. Like I said—bullshit. My brain is a smooth engine, pumping thoughts and feelings around just how I want them. These memories are pristine in a white room, air-sealed, dusted and sanitized regularly. My old days were great. But then, the other night, I was thinking about that stupid article and then I ran into an ex of

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