What's more horrifying: empty shelves or rotting books?
Johnny Martorano. Whitey Bulger. The Boston Strangler. The Craigslist Killer. What do they have in common? All are the subjects of true-crime books from Boston-area writers: Howie Carr, Casey Sherman, and Michele McPhee. Together, they’ll freak out those assembled at the Somerville Theatre when they appear this Saturday as part of a night of true crime tales.?xml:namespace>
many, poetry slams are like open mike nights or not-drunk-enough
Karaoke: powder-kegs for some serious collective embarrassment. It
can be stifling, that shared awkwardness between strangers. You never
quite get used to it, the unease; what is that? Delusion? Social
subtext? A moment of unforgiving clarity? It's sort of like a mumblecore
sex-scene: you know awkward when you see it.