Typewriter Fox Studios

Black Pack Nights

Out walking whiskey drunk through the hood on a stale Indiana night.  On the hunt for a tobacco strong enough to see me through until...
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Broken Angel

Hell's Kitchen lost its very best broken angel today.    Outside the window of a little blue Midwestern house, a gentle summer rain pattered.  It...
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It’s Okay

It's okay.  Go on.  Cry as hard as you can.  No one will see.  Drink a cold beer in a hot shower.  Make a silly...
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Asphalt Dreams and Other Strange Things

It always comes back to roads.  In almost five decades of summers, I've run down a lot of roads.  Sprawling interstates.  Back country lanes scratched...
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Post Box Blues

I sent her letters.   Maybe I sent too many; maybe I didn't send enough. I have never been a reliable judge of the post.  In...
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Living the American Nightmare

It was in the between years when I functioned best.     Those chunks of sticky time that aren't really story worthy.  Yet still somehow remain...
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Cliff Notes

She's not anything at all like the others.    I endured sleepless nights walking the face of this city trying to figure her out.  But...
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1989 Was Yesterday

32 years ago, we sat beside a river.     Adolescent love; hand in hand.  Snow fell.  Conversation froze; breath caught, suspended.   She spoke of...
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