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Blogger kevin.thurston said ... (2:13 PM) : 

alright, last comment.

in buffalo there was a store (perhaps still is, but i'm not allowed in used bookstores anymore) called 'circular word' and one day while i was in there another kid came in and asked for beats.

the man who runs the store is dusty. yellow cracked fingernails the whole nine. think bukowski's cousin. i'm certain a version of him is my homunculus. he shrilled, 'beats!?! we don't carry no stinkin' beats!?!'


Blogger -k said ... (4:36 PM) : 

that's excellent.

a librarian at UVA recently told me on the phone that the collection of small press poetry ephemera is referred to as the "beatnicky, you know, the hippy collection." i blogged about this a while back but it's worth repeating...


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