A rain soaked portrait of streets and scenes dying and being reborn to play me out tonight. The hawkers are packing up, the sailors are running back to ship, the outside drinkers and diners have been chased inside, existing in not quite day, not quite night, dusk of the street punks and lost boys and girls, the traders and the dealers in what other people call the twin devils of Sin and Shame rub shoulders with errant Australians who are waiting for Jim, the hero who is missing. Where have you gone, Lucky Jim? To where all the Jim Jims in this town go while there is daylight to burn. Harry’s cover is gorgeous, sympathetic, lush and rich. We miss you, Lucky Jim…Incidentally the covers of Gun Club songs, We Are Only Riders…is a gem. If Gun Club and Jeffrey are a bit much for you, this might be the entry you are looking for.
Culture, San Francisco, Poetry, Music, Reviews, Short Stories and Life