Michael Ast

Last night I witnessed my first live Monster Truck Jam. In fact, I never even witnessed the bizarre event on the television. It’s the kind of drama I often avoid.

The camera policy read “No video or audio recorders. No professional cameras.” So I left my gear at home. I am in love with these shitty “high Def”, zoomed mobile photos. I deem them high art.

Where’s the next Jam?

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I’ve been making the most of these fine little books. They take abuse well.

. . . . just a bit of visceral therapy. My shrink thinks there’s more to it. Little does he know the star above is just an early obsession with Motley Crue’s “Shout at the Devil.”

Ahhhhh, impressionable youth.