eliza boote

You might have seen, on more than one occasion, an orange Greyhound with the words “Worland Warriors,” on the side, and perhaps you’ve even been so lucky as to observe the group of 20-somethings in band T-shirts and arty/ragamuffin garb step off, talking about how one really ought not to purchase The Communist Manifesto with a credit card, and then maybe you’ve wondered to yourself what-on-Ginsberg’s-angelheaded-hipster-grave (may he rest in peace) this whole thirty-nine-foot-long oddity is about.