BlogBites. Like sound bites. But without the sound. » Blog Archive » …I look for propane tanks with brass fittings turned teal green — or any tank fitting gone to rust. I test the air for the smell of cat piss. I look for sunken cheeks and lesions on the faces and arms of my clients. I see tweakers everywhere…

Which is how it came to be that I am intimately familiar with the feeling of eight hundred volts entering my left arm. »

April 26th, 2006

…I look for propane tanks with brass fittings turned teal green — or any tank fitting gone to rust. I test the air for the smell of cat piss. I look for sunken cheeks and lesions on the faces and arms of my clients. I see tweakers everywhere… The Faces of Meth at PunkAssBlog.com

« I would have almost rather Morgan Freeman and Lee Chamberlain get it on atop the diner’s formica counter than smoke cigarettes, and given the general clothing vibe and those kissably close silhouettes pushing letter sounds out of their lips and urging them closer and closer until it was certain the letters knew each other in a Biblical sense and a new word was formed, I wouldn’t put some literary screwing past those two at all.