Dirt Bike Town is a novel featuring two friends riding a dirt bike riot-to-riot throughout America. Hitting every city not unlike a card counter I am a card counter yet you keep screaming Vegas at me that you are above identity, what is identity, is it measured in inches of parts on a dirt bike you just want the thing to go. Like in fast is a set of dilithium crystals used in tactical warp drives built in a meth lab in the Arkansas parts of Dirt Bike Town. Parts Dirt Bike Town have appeared in the New York Times, and the New York Times Magazine. Comments are the blood that flows like a river through my dragon’s dreams. We go to fight. We go to comment. I try to watch my language if suits are around. Fuck suits. They’re always around. Their beady little eyes glowing red in the dragon dark. Who invented the dragon there. What plots. Like vultures. Aeneas was a river guide who carried our snide little group across the River Styx all the way to the twin brother of Artemis-landing did fall like they all fell, he was right he was right, who was right, James Joyce was right. There’s Finnegan. In the pub just looking at me and my mate who is a god times ten. I ask Finnegan where he’s from. You’re a Catholic or you’re dead. Comments are ground zero. Boom. And then, you move on. But you said. But that is not what I am saying now. I do not believe in comment moderation. I would move to Paris, too. The only way to see a riot is to see all of them. Only a novel can do this. Electron’s Paradox. There’s trouble in the world. Is there an infinity with the same dragon dark or are we condemned to condemn ourselves forever. Are there innumerable electrons in the universe or is there only one and it is everywhere. In a universe where you cannot have it both ways, you can always try.