G. S. Oldman is a cranky Midwest reclusive who tries to forget that he once published poems and essays in zines that barely existed, then remembers that he also wrote for newspapers and contributed to journals like Thrasher, No Mag, Forced Exposure, Flipside and Option. He also won’t divulge the number of Midwest motorcycles or skateboards he’s destroyed, nor will he mention having filled spaces in X-rated prose and film scripts without having to take his clothes off. In the 1990s, he did time in the backrooms of arts and music promotion in Austin, TX because someone needed to write those blurbs, bios and phony reviews. After Hurricane Katrina, he escaped back to the heartland where all hell did not break loose, and no one could hang the wreck of the Deepwater Horizon on him. He now lives somewhere in Michigan searching for secret U-boat bases.