So Beck Hansen is walking through one of the lesser-known, divier neighborhoods of LA looking for inspiration. As he passes an alleyway he does a double take and backs up to check out a small, hairless mutt fucking a discarded mechanical monkey with clapping cymbals. … Read More →



Dark Night of the Soul, Indeed
SCENE: Wayne Coyne, esteemed singer of the Flaming Lips, reclines on a chaise lounge in the walnut paneled office of his bald headed, round, thick-rimmed glasses-wearing, Austrian psychoanalyst. Analyst: (looking over his glasses and across his desk at Mr. Coyne) So what seems to be bothering … Read More →