Where would I have been if not birthed here in Detroit? Probably a lot happier and healthier. But, damn it all, I've turned out just the way I should; a young'en stuck in a time I never lived, listening to shit that everyone around turns a frown in disgust to and is at any given time a sleep-deprived, paranoid wreck whose only real solace is hearing the clatter of some dirty, ballsy rock. New York Dolls, anyone? A black, platform boot-wearing glam rock wannabe who thinks everyday is his last. A writer who, when not copiously copping off Lester Bangs, Hunter S. Thompson and Brian Smith (look him up!), shoots out some interesting muddle here and there. All in all, just another wounded outsider walking the ever grey-hued streets of unmitigated absurdity. Or some shit.