What is this whole strange project about? I’m glad you asked.

The collectable photography books, the novel, the sequel, the films, the radio shows and field-notes … it’s what forty years spent living on the periphery, chasing a kind of gonzo-poetic autonomy looks like. Most folks would call the pursuit far-fetched. A road that only goes so far. They’re probably right.

But the margins are the only home I know now. The noise became music. The story just kept unfolding. I couldn’t turn back now if I tried. Besides, there’s no “back” to turn to anyway. The raft is already afloat. The gods have cast me out far beyond the fault line.

If you can hear this, the signal must still be good. I’m glad you decided to drop in and float along a while.