The Red Hand Files Issue #322
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The Red Hand Files Issue #322
I finally felt in my body how music worked. A chorus of nonbelievers, channeling God. A harmonic coming together capable of overtaking lyrics about drift and catastrophe, a song as proof that people can work together.
My stomach drops. A sudden jolt as the airplane pushes back from the gate.
Dear Beatriz and Brendan,
About twenty-five years ago, I made an offhand and somewhat uncharitable remark about the Red Hot Chili Peppers. There was no malice intended, it was just the sort of obnoxious thing I would say back then to piss people off. I was a troublemaker, a shit-stirrer, feeling most at ease in the role of a societal irr
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