The author is eager to explain Bebop Libre. But the editorial board has stopped him.

We’re not entirely sure why resources have been allocated to this “project.” Oh, how interesting: an American “writer” without formal literary training is air-dropped into Spain to learn its culture and language. Or so he assures us, on the rare occasion he responds to inquiries. Yet there is no indication he has made any progress whatsoever while on assignment. Asked for the most pedestrian international storytelling, he submits manuscripts so encrusted with juvenile imagery that the thesis is nigh-unintelligible, requiring several rounds of editing to unravel.

Administrative appeals have been made to reassign Reese to tech writing, with which he flirts on occasion. “Write what you know,” we’ve reminded him.

And then he obsessively raves about infrastructure… or aliens, or his unsupported belief that we’re living in a series of Plato’s Caves, or the origins of consciousness, or whatever psychoneurotic lunacy tickles his fancy at any given moment. We implore you: find a travel blog; an outlet with a modicum of sophistication. Bebop Libre is… we don’t know what it is.