From Brazil’s Revista O Globo. Click Photo to view article.
read moreIt had been a pretty good night after a sunny day on the beach, crashing around in the warm summer waves of Copacabana. I’d ended it up with a nice sweaty hour long fuck session with one of my favorite whores in Vila Mimosa. After kissing my little friend goodnight, I walked around the zona […]
read moreAn Open Letter to Voters of All Parties. By Jonathan D Shaw All candidates are liars on both sides of the sham Two Party System. It’s what they do. Democracy is a lie. Your vote is a sham. Key decisions are made in secret. The two party system is a GAME of distraction designed to […]
read moreANOTHER OPEN LETTER TO WRITERS AND ARTISTS By Jonathan D Shaw I feel compelled to add a little addendum to my previous Open Letter. While I’m always willing to help other writers and share freely of what I have found trudging my own stumbling path, time constraints for a working writer are a real concern. […]
read moreAN OPEN LETTER TO WRITERS AND ARTISTS: by Jonathan D Shaw Over the last decade since I retired from the whorehouse of commercial art as a ”world famous” celebrity tattoo artist to dedicate my efforts full-time to long-neglected literary pursuits, I’ve asked a good many well-known fellow writers and artists to write blurbs for my […]
read moreI looked around in disgust at a shadowy Carnaval nether-world of lazy dangerous savages. And there I was right in the thick of it again… what else can I do? I gotta kill some more time in this stinking human stew, gotta wait some more for Narcisa to come down… I got off the bike and […]
read moreAN OPEN LETTER TO THE PUBLISHING WORLD The most successful and profitable restaurant in the world today is McDonald’s. Most successful living American artist, Thomas Kinkade. Most successful performer, Lady Gaga. And they say the cream rises to the top? Don’t fucking think so… I say shit floats. If you were to take a big load […]
read more“The best part is what follows, Cigano,” Maria begun, pinning me to the spot with her smiling brown intelligent eyes. They peered at me like burning lasers from her drug-ravaged face with traces of what was obviously once great beauty. Maria. An old lady at 24. “They went up and cleaned out the guy’s apartment […]
read moreBefore Shirley could resume her playboy tirade, I reached over to fire up the bike. I was feeling the need of some wind in my face. Even being a block from the ocean the ho-stroll can start to feel somewhat claustrophobic after awhile. Before I could take off, a couple of the other girls wandered […]
read moreBrenda, oblivious to Shirley’s curbside irony, just perches her bony ass back down on the car hood where she was sitting when I pulled up. She smiles seductively at a car full of rich boys out cruising with daddy’s car while casually reaching out her hand for another one of my smokes. The carload of […]
read moreEnd of the day. Copacabana. Chilly summer Sunday’s end. Sitting at my regular seaside table at the end of the beach, observing the crazy moving beehive hieroglyphic puzzle of early night’s activity, people walking past the bar here. People, disjointed illegible figures. They’re all out tonight; a weird mix of lost dog gringos, fuzzy-looking mulatta […]
read moreI spotted Fernanda just as her face lit up in fond recognition. She slid up beside me like a shaggy little cartoon ghost in a light cotton denim mini skirt and knee-high brown leather fuck boots. She gave me a quick hug and a humid little kiss on either cheek. “E aí, Ignácio, tudo tranquílo?” […]
read moreJournal entry — Carnaval — Fat Tuesday. After Midnight. Shit. It looks like they’ve cranked open the gates of hell down here at the Prado Júnior. The Pussy Arcade. Coked up gangs of funny faced whores standing ready to face the ashy dawn like grim determined warrior ants of the apocalypse. A hot wind is […]
read moreCHETUMAL NOVEMBER 1974 Dear Doris, I’ve been here in Chetumal ever since my last letter, going on two weeks now, walking along the dock, sleeping in a hammock and reading ‘The Idiot’ which I finally finished this morning, laying in the park, eating shrimp cocktails by the sea wall and playing soccer every day after […]
read moreCHETUMAL NOVEMBER 1974 Dear Doris, Finally I decided to move on and I hitched a ride south. Since then I’ve been staying in an abandoned house with no roof on the outskirts of Chetumal. This is a real spooky old pirate town on a bay on the Caribbean coast near the border to British Honduras, […]
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