Typewriter Fox Studios

Songs from the Fish Ladder

November rain shimmered bleak on broken "Five One Seven" asphalt. An agitated capital howled back in the dampness of oil slick reflections. Clammy concrete amplified...
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Birthday Funeral Part Three: The Typewriter

With a belly full of church food, and a head full of heavy static, this road weary fox slinked back to his room in the...
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Birthday Funeral Part Two: The Mass

*blink* "Where the fuck am I? Oh yeah. Indiana." *sigh* “Again.” It took senses a minute to congeal into coherence inside the darkness of that...
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Birthday Funeral Part One: The Drive

Things just haven't been the same since you hot shot yourself.   That awful Monday night when the needle bit you a final goodbye. Alone. Curled...
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Unmasked Foxes

In this carnival of broken souls, I have worn many masks. Friend. Lover. Scoundrel. Writer. Soldier. Artist. Failure. And I'm still not certain which one...
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Sticks and Stones

If only someone had told me it was the best worst of times. Maybe then I would have kept the receipts. Or demanded a refund. ...
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Sushi Tastes Like Highschool

The list of places I am no longer welcome continues to grow; the number of people willing to put up with my shit seems to...
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Coconut Rum Diaries

Sunday drunk on coconut rum. Not a flavour native to Michigan. But it reminds me there are better places in the world. And that's not...
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The Fox

I woke up in a panic. It wasn't the usual, had the same fucking dream, kind of panic that I'm used to facing when eyes...
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The Escape

It was a foggy start to the break.  And for once, I'm not talking about the usual, self-inflicted hangover variety. A thick blanket of actual...
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