Killing Time & Neurons: A disociative sojourn into the hip

It was the sixth opening we had been to that night. I was cold, wet, and pining for a cigarette. As I stood in the corner of the gallery, I licked the inside of my mouth in an effort to remember the comforting taste of burnt throat I was accustomed to. I’d recently quit smoking but was not above buying an entire pack for a stranger so I could bum one off of them without the thick feeling of guilt weighing on my chest. The gallery was launching a new... Read The Rest →