Our special friends Tenzin and Magnus got really bored of just having interesting first names so they started a magazine!
It’s called ‘The Last Magazine’ and it’s a really big, broadsheet newspaper sized deal, poster sized. It looks amazing! It was printed by Steidl (you know… Steidl) so the quality is excellent.
You can pick it up at that mag store on the corner of Lafayette and Spring (NYC), otherwise Google your balls off till you find it. Here’s some spreads… and toes to help you recognize the vastness going on here. It’s not all fashion spreads by the way, there’s a bunch of other art/culture stuff, we just thought you’d like to see girls. The handsome guy holding the mag is Tenzin… he used to be a model… and a banker… and, ladies, I think he’s single… I have his phone and email so start bidding. Seriously, I will sell you his phone number and email address.
We think our holy friend Jaimie Daughters is in Mexico somewhere… who knows though? He could be under the stairs…
He’s the only true hobo-mystic, poet-photographer we know.
Here’s a letter and movie we got from him today.
It may please the reader to know,
my first bride, (of the Ithumus, Tehuantepec) although phonetically wondrous, reads at third grade level.
that our first daughter, whether blank or brown faced, shall be named Blurry Dawn.
that times have changed the standing of the indigenous vagina,
That Vasco de Gama is to blame for that.
my dear Sir Sandwiches I am running later than expected in contacting you, still pacifying winter gloom by virtue of sun baked days, rumination and fry bread.
I’ll save you from the drawn out rigmarole, my pork skin (Chicharone) binges, the resultant lukewarm excremental rivulets.
I’ll save you the onslaught of nameless memories
of shiftless gazes at myriad ornamented women.
of inflated dreams, and curdled midnight fears
this story of my maya is not a ladder to perfection
merely amorphous tidbits serving to provide a piece of the puzzle.
here now, having returned to the State of America, finding my place.
Playing in the dirt, traversing the fields, nature , it’s cyclical spectacle.
If Mexico were the testicles [balls], Frisco, the ambiguous cousin, and Los Angeles, the plastic asshole,
Please keep me well informed..
Your story’s are always welcome, I find them greaty arresting.
I await further instruction re: your CA medical maryjuana card.
your,
Pancho Lefty
