Stories Archives - Typewriter Fox Studios

Sushi Tastes Like Highschool

October 26, 2024 - by Typewriter Fox

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 be shrinking. Thankfully, it wasn’t an accidental cohabitation situation with a blonde disaster like the last time. Regrettably, it was a friend from high school who wanted to meet, “just to catch up.” After thirty some years of not actually seeing each other’s faces. We somehow managed to stay in touch over the years. At least as far as the big life events were concerned–births, deaths, her too many affairs. It was always the middle of the night when my phone would ring. Another transcontinental call. She knew I would be awake. And probably drunk enough to talk her back from …

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Highway 51 Revisited

April 10, 2024April 10, 2024 - by Typewriter Fox

I awoke in the belly of a metal beast today. Didn’t plan it that way, mind you. Wasn’t looking for a new low; I wasn’t on a quest for shame. But shame, like an old friend, always seems to stick. Even when I’m actively eluding the less dignified demons of my more unpredictable intentions. It was the kind of green dumpster you find behind every supermarket. Right there on an unnamed side road off of Highway 51. Somewhere south of Paw Paw. I awoke with my head nestled between a torn trash bag and the oxidized metallic skin; my mind echoed the groan of the city waking up. That rust belt metropolis sprawling east, still drunk on dreams of better days. A few coins jingled in …

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Fear and Hiraeth in Ingham County

January 22, 2024 - by Typewriter Fox

Winter here in the land of Q.D. donut munchers is weird. Particularly the aimless, wandering weekend nights. They seem somehow more empty than the workweek ones filled with the noise and chaos of tin flying machines. When it is this still, things echo and feel brittle. There is too much hollow space for the cognitive distortion to gain ground. And that too often leads to dysfunctional choices. Because behaviors change when the sun falls behind the Mitten. Things you never imagined yourself doing suddenly start appearing in the rearview mirror of recent memory. And like the sticker always cautions, those things are much closer than they appear. Memories of pinballing inside an apartment filled with too many typewriters. Of too many hours …

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