My wife and I joke about having a heroin-tinged bristle brush mounted to the wall at the height of our lower backs so we wold back into it when we have lower back pain. Joking, I told Alexa, “Alexa, order me a heroin brush.” She responded.
“I’ve put “Black Wave” in your shopping cart.
I then tried to tell Alexa to remove whatever she just put in my cart. She didn’t understand that, so I had to go online to delete it, and now my amazon account thinks I want to read whatever genre this is.
“You don’t need Alexa. It’s nothing but trouble,” said my wife.
I suspect she’s right.
“A Gen-X queer girl’s version of the bohemian counter-canon.” —New York Times
Desperate to quell her addiction to drugs, disastrous romance, and nineties San Francisco, Michelle heads south for LA. But soon it’s officially announced that the world will end in one year, and life in the sprawling metropolis becomes increasingly weird.
While living in an abandoned bookstore, dating Matt Dillon, and keeping an eye on the encroaching apocalypse, Michelle begins a new novel, a sprawling and meta-textual exploration to complement her promises of maturity and responsibility. But as she tries to make queer love and art without succumbing to self-destructive vice, the boundaries between storytelling and everyday living begin to blur, and Michelle wonders how much she’ll have to compromise her artistic process if she’s going to properly ride out doomsday.
