In 2016 I roamed the streets of Kolkata with a camera and a beat. No plan, just people, noise, and a track by Horrorshow that made it all feel cinematic.
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A goddess once worshiped for wisdom shows up barefoot, high, and half-naked, here to remind you truth isn’t polite, it’s primal.
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You’re writing great stuff on Substack, so where are the search results? Here’s how we solved the indexing problem, step-by-step.
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A surreal descent into primal madness, brotherhood, psychedelics, and the holy absurdity of freedom.
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A lyrical ride through Southern California’s iconic break, where memory, solitude, and the sea crash together.
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He’s not saving souls, just lighting blunts and keeping the rhythm alive in a godless world.
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He was the patron saint of broken hearts and bong rips, showing up stoned with a lighter, a limp prayer, and nothing left to lose.
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A raw, defiant, dread. Stubborn pride collide.
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A hard look at the GOP’s love affair with corruption, Trump’s selective pardons, and how the base gets left in the dirt.
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One man’s heartbreak over what America has become, and the grifter who broke it.
