It was Glastonbury. I forget the year. Michael Jackson had just died and we had been in a beer tent for two days straight with Bodger from the kids tv show, Bodger and Badger. We had been keeping the train in motion, awake for 48 hours and counting, but Bodger was insisting we stay up …
WORDS: Howe Gelb. <><><><><><><><> I was 19. Still impressionable. Living in Tucson. 1976. A good decade & age to allow the usefulness of psychedelics. It was also a time of great emptiness. It was more than possible to head out to the forest of giant saguaro ( which were only minutes away ) …
The sky was red for a long time. Then it was black. I couldn’t tell how long I’d been standing there looking up. Or if it was morning or night. I began to walk but I didn’t know which direction I was headed. I had no idea where, or who I was. I kept walking, …
WORDS: Mark McKowski & Howe Gelb. MARK WRITES: SCRANTON TIMES I have returned home to Scranton. But yet I haven’t returned. A large chunk of me is still out there on the road. Somewhere behind me. Aren’t there certain cultures who wait at the airport for a day after they fly so their …
On the road again. I’ve shown up to the check in desk at the airport, bloodshot eyes and grey skin. The lady at the desk looks at me like I’m a beast from the gutter. Maybe she’s right. After I get my ticket I realise my fly is undone. I need sleep. And a drink. …
He sits at the bar, staring blankly into nothingness, his fingers > making mince meat of the beer mat as he waits anxiously for another > drink. The barman makes no effort at small talk as he pours him > another. With the glass now full and his bloodshot eye twitching, he > raises the …
Some asshole opened the curtains, foolishly letting the sunlight in to > slice the dark atmosphere. This caused a ripple of moans that spread > across the dank room until the culprit realised his mistake and > quickly closed the curtains tight. That brief beam of sunshine was > the unwelcome guest, bursting into the …
Had a nightmare that the world was ending. Woke up in a pool of > sweat. Grabbed phone and looked at social media. Felt inadequate. > Put phone down and stared at the ceiling for half an hour. Got out > of bed and washed. Saw myself in the mirror and wished I was > …
WORDS: McKowski, Gelb, & Brown. Another triple hitter at the Boneyard office this week as three authors continue to splutter straight from brain to paper, thus making up the triangle that connects Omagh, Tucson, & Iowa. I serve as the Merry Go Round Operators Handbook, Howe Gelb is the Spilled Milk, and Pieta Brown is …
Dear Interviewer. There’s no way I can answer the questions you put forward. And I mean no disrespect. It’s too late in the day and I’m too long in the tooth to attempt to clarify my existence of song or sell myself to those unaware. I can only tell you that I believe Ireland invented …
