EPL-
INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL
What he lacked in methodic restraint he might have recouped in auras siphoned off the land. Because this is the place, it seems; this is where the bullheadedness of man – drunk on science, God, sex-magick, or some cocktail thereof – gives the wilds a run for their money. I’m in a page ripped from the book on great American public works and civil engineering. I’m in a fucking cathedral of cement, flanked by the towering underpass of Pasadena’s so-called Suicide Bridge (Hwy. 210) and the Devil’s Gate itself. Through it all, crusties claim, bores a labyrinth of tunnels. I partly buy this – John and I have been through a few, already. If I were any more conspiratorial or crusty, I would also buy the one about all of this merely being part of a network of tunnels coursing beneath all of LA.
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