
Certain cities have a poetic mortality attached to them–they’d make a great place to die. Dangerous in their underlying temptations, these death cities range from predictable (Las Vegas) to hmmm, really? (Portland). Yes, Portland, aka Death City, according to my boyfriend. How could this scenic indie paradise be so menacing? To me it always seemed like Austin or Minneapolis, one of those mellow, scenic cities where punks go to breed. Aside from the heroin it seemed pretty safe.



Crack makes people do fucked-up things: sell their kids, fight alligators at 4 AM, talk to dead presidents in the alleyway. It made Tina F., under the guise of 








