Ok. Bear with me on this one. I’m about to go deep. But theres a point in here… somewhere. This stuff has been circling in my mind for some time now.. I’m trying to figure out the formula, or the recipe. The ingredients are all there, stewing in the brain. I Just need to write …
When we were 15 we hung out at a local pizza parlor on Friday nights and used up all our quarters ( coins ) to play illegal pinball in the back room. This was ceremoniously done while playing Sticky Fingers on the juke box and sparking up a Marlboro. It was 1972. Socially, we were …
He got off the plane in Dublin, full of hope and excitement. The sun was shining and so was he. The village was a mere 3 hour bus ride from here. The village he’d heard so much about. Heard it all from his friends in the big city. The ones who came from the village, …
Hello again. Please find enclosed this weeks hack work. Straight from brain to paper. This hustle is engrained now. Just like death. There is no shaking it off. It’s all there is. All there ever was. Without it what else is there but routine. And I can’t face that rotten dance. So I tap away …
What was the first record you owned and do you still have it? The Heart Of Stone single by SVT. I lost it. But I found another copy a couple years ago. The original 7’’ is killer. Great band. Brian Marnell was the frontman. He was an impossibly good looking dude. Black hair falling down …
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. …
