The Song: “ I am a ticket taker, many tickets have I torn” – The Low Anthem The Lyric: Many years have passed in this river town, I’ve sailed through many traps A small city hanging off the bluffs above the Mississippi, where the only place to leave to is worse than the place to leave from . My town, it damns me as much as I curse it. My dreams were lost between middle school and high school, my innocence in the slip between desire and abuse, my virginity in a sexually trans

Why Are They Just Sitting There? Every writer goes down to the DoItYourself for story ideas. For some, it’s the obituaries DIY, for some it’s the Police Blotter DIY, but they come home with a notebook of nuts and bolts, a hammer, a trowel. But then for all writers, it’s observation that provides the lumber to build the story out. Here’s your observation: You’re late driving back from Albuquerque up through the Native American Reservations to your house In Taos. You didn’t get

“ I am a ticket taker, many tickets have I torn” – The Low Anthem In a small wooden booth at the edge of the fairgrounds, I take the coins and dispense the tickets, regaling those shuffling hoards lined up before me with stories about the attractions they yearn to see, snippets of weather prediction, and praise for the little town and its beautiful women. I am their ticket taker. Come one come all, into the fairgrounds of spectacle, the tents of portent, the cages of an