|final, finally, finality eh? all
good things, and sometimes not such good things, come to an end. you
were probably thinking that we died ages ago. not quite, just been
waiting for the coffee to percolate. and so with street art we bid you
all adieu. with much love and respect ...
was the interview that wasn't supposed to happen. no, no ... not
because a1one (pronounced: ə-lōn') is iranian and we got caught up in
some crazy international diplomatic scandal. not because we were
running late, or even because we had expended all of our ezine karma on
previous interviews ...
|Dear mr. inflatable dreams. I've
taken the liberty of correcting your spelling. Nothing personal. I,
myself, the correspondent herself (you
don't dispute that too do you?) don't know how to spell correspondent
|Art for Twelve Million Tokyo’s
streets are all but devoid of graffiti. Acres of smooth, flat concrete
surround buildings and houses, yet remain completely untouched by spray
paint or texta. You won’t find it scratched into toilet doors or etched
into train carriages ...
|this interview was a tough one.
thousands of emails, facebook pokes.
phone calls late at night. attending a gig to get a phone number. to
make some calls. to send some emails. to finally sneak backstage at the
hi-fi bar ...
|word up ; delicious script by rich ...
|gen 19 and we were hungry and
tired and needed our next fix. behold, she said, turning tricks for $50
is easy. so we entered his house and were satiated ...
stay tuned for something bigger and better. and not to worry, we'll let
want to send us poems of appreciation? the story of the first moment
touched? touch me
want to spread the love? send us more email addresses! touch
want this all to stop? don't