Way back when, I wrote for BUMS a few times. This mostly involved taking a pen to a gig and scrawling some drunken wanna-be rock journo mess on beer coasters and trying to decipher it the next day after retrieving it from the nastiest recesses of my tight black rock jeans. I would bash the nonsense out on an electric typewriter, buy a stamp and post it in to the editors. I was just some guy in the suburbs drinking goon and reading Bukowski.

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