Category Archives: The Howl

Your Scribe is Back!

Madison, WI––A great man, a wise man, a profound man, in 2001, encapsulated the essence of life in song. His name is Jack and he sang: The road is fuckin’ hard, The road is fuckin’ tough-ah, There’s no question that-eh It is rough, rough stuff. It’s the fuckin’ road my friend But it’s the only road I know… And so it goes… I said that. I haven’t written much here at TFS since heroin laid me to waste and took the life of someone very dear to me, but onward and forward one must always go. Life is an ongoing… Continue Reading

Help Solve a Disappearance

MADISON, WI –– Hello My Dear Fans, I’ve been away for a very, very longtime and here is why: I’m in the final throes of nine-year project that began as an idea for a humble little book about a man named Amos Mortier, who had gone missing from my hometown of Madison, Wisconsin on Nov. 8, 2004. After making some excellent progress on a story that has turned out to be more challenging than anything I’ve ever taken on, my life took an unexpected turn in New Mexico, when me and my ace, Sarah No, in our boredom, began a… Continue Reading

Shine On You Crazy Green Dot

Everybody has got something to hide except for me and my monkey, John Lennon sang. The Internets are a remarkable tool, half of the time. The other half, it’s remarkably irritating. Great for news, porn–news about porn–and keeping up with everyone but the Kardashians–ya know, that vacuous tribe of squishy and stretched narcissists that recently drove Lamar Odom (to a brothel) and Scott Disick (to his yacht) for drug-fueled ménage à trois? Now Odom is in a coma after being discovered by two hookers and Disick, according The Daily Mail, appears worse for the wear. But what the Internets… Continue Reading

The Heroin Blues

photo by Sarah No Madison, WI–In the sordid, voyeuristic, details to emerge from the presumed heroin overdose death of actor Philip Seymour Hoffman I hear echoes from my own recent life, now marred by psychic wounds that have barely begun to heal. Of the many terrible things my girlfriend, Sarah, and I witnessed while living in New Mexico the icy blue color that washed over the faces of those overdosing on heroin jarred us the most.  This ghoulish discoloration is caused by a sudden decrease in oxygen due to respiratory depression, preceded by a loss of consciousness. As far as… Continue Reading

Africans in North Dakota

W.B. shows off his warning for trespass. Western North Dakota—Last night a couple of the housekeepers, all of whom are from Cape Verde, stopped by the office to tell me about the racist man working at the gas station across the street, how the man, for no reason, booted them from the store prior to the cops doling out warnings for trespass. What happened went something like this: Kenny purchased W.B. the wrong kind of cigarettes. W.B. returned moments later to exchange the pack for the correct one. One of the clerks, an older man with a scraggly gray beard,… Continue Reading

Speed Demon

Western North Dakota—When I took over the motel a few weeks back, I had one housekeeper, hardly sufficient for 52 rooms. So I began asking for more help because I didn’t want to clean rooms. One morning, a highly energetic middle-aged woman showed up at the office. Hi, I’m [Suzy], she said. I’m here to help.  Three minutes conversing with this lady I was exhausted. She spoke fast as an auctioneer and had a tendency to complete my sentences for me. I speak a lot slower than she does. I later attributed it the gallons of Coca-Cola she pounds… Continue Reading

Shit Talk

Small Town, North Dakota—So this girl and her man come in yesterday, a cute little couple from Indiana. He looks All-American while she was some kind of bitchy little twat with an outsized attitude. They want a room and she wants it now, but nothing is available until two. They lounge on the couch in the office for awhile, explaining they’d driven 24-hours straight from Indiana, en route to Idaho. We relate, having made a similar 17-hour excursion last week from New Mexico to here. The drive knocked me on my ass for two days. Twenty-four hours. Sounds like hell.… Continue Reading

Courting Disaster

Vinita, Oklahoma—I’ve never actually found a new beginning on the road, but here I am, at it again. On the way here, or maybe it was while waiting for the tow outside of Vinita, Oklahoma, I tried to tally all of the new beginnings I’ve courted, but there were too many. None matter now, anyhow. Besides, it was hot. Really hot. 3 p.m. in sun-scorched Oklahoma. The girl downed her last Valium when the trooper pulled up behind us and had since slumped over like a corpse. The dog, panting like a maniac, was on the verge of overheating. And… Continue Reading

Good-bye, Mark, You Asshole

Mark and his son, circa 2004. I’d always known wherever Mark ended up it would be in a bad place. He had that aspect to him. He dressed as well as he spoke, had a way with the ladies, but he was also high-strung, impatient, and quite narcissistic. Fundamentally, he was kind, but also had a sense he deserved more than he had, even though he could’ve had it all. And for a time, he did, until misplaced pride sucked the life from him. He chalked up criticism to being misunderstood. Classes were failed because the professors were indifferent… Continue Reading

Mean Girls

Rio Arriba County—The New York Post today published a scathing review of The Feminist and the Cowboy, a new memoir, that, as the title suggests, tells the story of an ultra-liberal urbanite who shrugs off her feminist beliefs after falling for an ultra-conservative cowboy. His kisses are so powerful they inspire the little moonbat to peel an anti-Fox News bumper sticker from her car, among other non-liberal, anti-feminist behaviors. Riveting stuff, especially today with the Country so divided, but I take it Valdes didn’t care for the review anymore than the reviewer did her memoir. One of six Twitter… Continue Reading
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