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Tuesday

- by Typewriter Fox

I didn’t intend to get accidentally whiskey-ginger drunk. On that claustrophobic Tuesday night. In the strip mall heart of fucking Dewitt, Michigan. But, it happened.   I tripped into those triples shortly after kicking a virginal 767 off the ramp. The one loaded with critical healthcare medicines and ridiculous consumer madness. Ten tons of overflow Amazons and random online acquisitions—not my best flight. But we still made it work. It was a weird drunk, too. Not the actual inebriation aspect. Because let’s be honest, that’s a familiar fading, here amongst the shuffling Q.D. Zombies. But I still learned some important lessons, teetering precariously on the edges of a barstool disaster. I discovered it is better to avoid anything passed the upside of West State Road. Because the …

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Blog Posts / Random / Writing

Clip Show

- by Typewriter Fox

“Have a good weekend!” they said, shuffling out.  But like always, that sentiment wasn’t really meant for me.  Because it was a superfluous holiday. An unappreciated recess tacked on to the tail end of a shortened week. A week spent soaking more blue into thrifted collars, while all around bigger engines whined and spooled white smoke. An echo of a day left to wander unsupervised. And, unappreciated. Watching the people all scurry and shuffle. Packing their bags for better places. The ones I am never destined to see.   The summer race was on.   The race to escape the stink of The City. And to chase down the refreshment promised by the U.P. That sprawl of a Mittened peninsula, jutting out into colder water. But I was …

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Blog Posts / Random / Writing

Letters

- by Typewriter Fox

I thought about writing a letter tonight.  But I am admittedly a little afraid to actually know her. It has honestly been a minute since I have tortured someone with my rambling correspondence; I feel out of practice. Out of touch with more gentle thoughts; out of time to the rhythm of all these 517 hearts. I find myself terrified of letters. Probably because it’s only been a little over a month now. And I haven’t yet found the courage to read the last one I received. The one that came at me hard on that awful, and beautiful, Wayne’s City night. But it’s still right there.  That letter is still tucked away, unopened, inside a locked typewriter case. The vintage companion that has traveled with …

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Blog Posts / Random / Writing

Last Call

- by Typewriter Fox

She was there when I needed someone the most. She was there on that awful stain of a 517 Thursday. A shitty day, full of shitty airplanes, tacked on to the end of another shitty week. Maybe I was just grouchy; maybe I was just manstruating my way through another shift of maniac, Mittened madness. Maybe I was still hungover from the night before; maybe it was an indecipherable combination of reasons spawning all the suck.   I just knew that I needed to tap the fuck out for a second.   I needed to catch my breath. And to realign my head into a better place. Because I was honestly about thirty seconds away from jumping headfirst into a rotating jet engine. Figuratively, of course. I’d never …

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Blog Posts / Random / Writing

500 Mile Drive

- by Typewriter Fox

I still think about that drive. The tenacity of those Tennessee roadside concessions. The ones fueling those dirty dashboard confessions; the ones screaming at a Pigeon Ford quickly evaporating in a smoky rearview mirror. Because I never had the opportunity to properly explain myself. I just remember Knoxville coffee punching hard against softer insides. And how that burn helped to round out the sharpness of those elevated curves. And smooth the stark indignity of unused emergency runaway ramps. The ones scratched and clawed into an unnamed mountain’s downward slope. Cities were on fire then. It felt like the whole world, locked down and suffering, was about to collapse. Which I thought was fucking hilarious. Because I was tired of the abuse. And wanted to break free …

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Blog Posts / Random / Writing

The Ring

- by Typewriter Fox

There was once a ring. She never knew about it; it was the only secret I ever kept from her. Because after that first Wayne’s City kiss, I pledged absolute transparency—I knew that was the only way that we would ever work. And I wanted to be understood as a fox of his word. The gamble was enormous. The one involving state lines crossed. And expensive pettifoggers. Endless boxes and bruises. The ones ending in too many damn sleepless nights; the ones bleeding into hot, hard days scrambling up those congested 120 miles. Pushing to build a comfortable life from a tender start of want. Those early days holding the promise of only two tea mugs, a simple kettle we both kind of hated, and a …

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Blog Posts / Random / Writing

The Raven

- by Typewriter Fox

Indiana was unexpected that night; it wasn’t at all what I had planned.   So it is fair to say that I was unprepared. Truth is, I was already at the bar when that text hit my phone. A familiar dive, comforting in its lack of complexity. A place where mostly empty bottles help to fill up even emptier Old Town people. Where the lights flicker randomly. And there is always the underlying vibe that things are just one minor party foul away from a major shuffle. A familiar tension, reminding me of family.  But at least they finally repaired the back door. The one recently battered in and then boarded back up. And that simple restoration made it easier slipping out for smokes between the pours. …

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Blog Posts

Shift Lock

- by Typewriter Fox

‘Shift Lock: A Metaphor for Changing Perspectives’ 5-9 p.m. March 27 Struk Studio 2916 Turner St., Lansing What would happen if 25 people sat down to type out their random thoughts, surrounded by art and fueled by Cravings Gourmet Popcorn? Find out on March 27 as north Lansing’s Struk Studio hosts “Shift Lock: A Metaphor for Changing Perspectives.“ The unique event is the brainchild of Jeffrey Gaff, a Lansing author, artist, collector of vintage typewriters and ramp supervisor at Capital Region International Airport who goes by the pen name Séafra Duffy. Gaff is a pugnacious, punk-rock defender of all things tangible and analog. In September, while Gaffs gonzo collage art was enjoying a minute of fame at Struk Studio, he and studio owner David Such dreamed …

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Misc. Art

Type In Event

- by Typewriter Fox

Typewriter Fox Studios is pleased to announce the areas first ever typewritten event, SHIFT LOCK: a Metaphor for Changing Perspectives. A collaboration of Struk Studio and Typewriter Fox Studios, the gallery will be transformed for the evening into “The Typing Room,” a live art installation where you are invited to come experience a wide variety of vintage typewriters. Custom stationery, incorporating the talents of local artists, will be available for you to write a letter, a poem, or whatever the muse dictates. There will also be a screaming of the documentary California Typewriter. And since a movie is more fun with snacks, free popcorn will provided by Cravings Gourmet Popcorn and refreshments by Toms Party Store of East Lansing. So shift your perspective and come unplug …

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Blog Posts / Random / Writing

Time

- by Typewriter Fox

Time is such a weird thing. And 18 months is the current manifestation of that peculiarity. It simultaneously seems like both a lifetime, and the blink of brown eyes crying in an Indiana kitchen. 547 some days. A whisper over 13,000 hours.   But even that isn’t a guarantee. Because I learned a long time ago to never trust the white-coated math. In a way, I guess it makes sense. Because even our arrival times are imprecise. So why should our departure dates be any different? Born into broken water, we leave amongst the tears of others. Adhering to some imprecise system. One based on patterns I’m not sure my pickled monkey brain will ever comprehend. Because I can barely be trusted unsupervised with a tube of …

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