I've started writing for the Bostonist. The plan is build a literature column, but the more I read about Orson Wells and Zeppelins the more I want to write about Orson Welles and Zeppelins. This morning I imagined Orson Welles over Allston, throwing Super Mario-like bombs from a silver Zeppelin. He had red eyes and sharks teeth and his laugh was like that of the dark angel's trumpet.

You know what I'm talking about.


Anyway, here is the first post.


My birthday is tomorrow. Send me cases of Campo Viejo.