Posts by author
Lucy Schiller
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ALBUMS OF OUR LIVES: STEVE EARLE’S GUITAR TOWN
Before someone spilled Hi-C on it during a hot Iowa summer and my car window fixed sunlight into its silky black innards, warping Steve Earle’s voice into that of a sexually beleaguered chipmunk, that tape drove me through a lot.
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The Last City I Loved: San Francisco
One part of me will always be on my roof in the Sunset District, smoking with my human butt on a damp spot, my cigarette butt about to rest on a similarly moist shingle.