Warning: The following was written by a music nerd who considers music (especially recorded music) to be one of the driving forces that keeps this planet spinning. This entry may come off cheesy and overly zealous about things you could care less about.
A story of supposed sellouts, sordid preteens, and my new illegal pasttime at the Roseland Ballroom.
It's the first proof that the comic strip appreciation gene I got from Dad might have legs. She certainly doesn't get it from her mother, who looked at me rather oddly when I told her that her two-year-old now had her own subscription bag at the comic book store.
BC Writer of the Day