THERE'S A GHOST IN MY HOUSE

I'm in the living room playing Mario Kart 64, while Tom Fry is in the bathroom drinking a bottle of Robitussin he's had lying around for a while in the medicine cabinet. In a little while Tom will be into cavernous head space, and I'm ready to see it, but in the meantime I'm occupied by the three red shells I just picked up. Where am going to shoot them?


Tom Fry and I are driving around Northfield suburbs without purpose or direction. Tom tells me where to turn moments before I turn and I listen.

"I am possessed by cool driven magic," Tom tells me, and I believe him.


We are back at the house now, but the lights don't work. "Where is your fucking magic, you asshole?" I plead, but the magic only works in automobiles.

"There's spirits here," says Tom. "This is a ghost town and we're in a ghost house. Who knows the most about ghosts here?"

I shrug my shoulders. Nobody I know has any clue about ghosts.

"Then we're in trouble. The only safe zone is the roof."

Albert Ayler - Billie's Bounce