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There is no such thing as lunar panels.

THE MOON MAN BY JAY BERMAN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 79
Des shoved the 20-inch pizza box of the three smiling Petrini brothers into Molly’s outstretched hands and blurted, “Lunar panels!” After a beat, she asked, “Looney panels? Have you been listening to one of those right-wing talk stations?” “No, no, no. LUNAR panels. Do you get it? Everyone is selling solar panels—along with garage doors—but nobody is selling lunar panels.” “Des, that’s because there is no such thing as lunar panels,” Molly said.

Axl Rose is still Axl Rose—but woke. And somehow more relevant than ever. He wants that happy ending for the country that we once wanted for GN’R.

I heard a woman say come here, Topaz.

FLOWERS IN THE HALLWAY BY ELLEN BLOOMENSTEIN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 79
I was about to knock on Sally Snow’s door, which I knew was slightly crazy, when the door opened and a Siamese cat came slithering out. “Come here, Topaz,” I heard a woman say.

He’d twist it, turn it, moan it, groan it.

MONDAY NIGHT AT THE BUTTE BY PAUL DRESMAN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 79

Henry Vestine at the Butte was something to see. He could rip the standards behind his back, looking sideways into a mirror that wasn’t there. He did a workingman’s job on a slow blues: he’d twist it, turn it, moan it, groan it, and bring it back down. 77th greatest guitarist who ever lived (according to Rolling Stone), Vestine played lead guitar in Canned Heat.