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  1. #1
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    Oct 2003
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    3,763

    Howling as Therapy

    Apparently people are howling for therapy each evening in Wellfleet, Mass (outer Cape Cod). Dead season down there, guess they channel their inner wolf and relieve cabin fever. Crazy times call for crazy outlets. Maybe this will become a "thing"

    Name:  `Howling as Therapy.JPG
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  2. #2
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    Mar 2005
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    Dystopia
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    I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
    dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
    angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
    who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,
    who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,
    who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,
    who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
    who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,
    who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
    who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night
    with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,
    incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,
    Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,
    who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,
    who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford’s floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi’s, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,
    who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,
    a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon,
    yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,
    whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement,
    who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,
    suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark’s bleak furnished room,
    who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts,
    who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,
    who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,
    who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,
    who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,
    who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain,
    who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,
    who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago,
    who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets,
    who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,
    who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,
    who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,
    who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,
    who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts,
    who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,
    “Life has become immeasurably better since I have been forced to stop taking it seriously.”
    Hunter S. Thompson

  3. #3
    Join Date
    Apr 2006
    Location
    SF & the Ho
    Posts
    6,229
    Plenty of howling in Mill Valley. Id prefer that to the sing a longs spreading like the virus through sf

  4. #4
    Join Date
    Dec 2018
    Location
    DownEast
    Posts
    630
    I've been helping my wife howl the last few nights.

  5. #5
    Join Date
    Dec 2007
    Location
    base of the Bush
    Posts
    12,150
    ^^^Lulz
    www.apriliaforum.com

    "If the road You followed brought you to this,of what use was the road"?

    "I have no idea what I am talking about but would be happy to share my biased opinions as fact on the matter. "
    Ottime

  6. #6
    Join Date
    Jan 2005
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    Access to Granlibakken
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    7,677
    Quote Originally Posted by singlecross View Post
    I've been helping my wife howl the last few nights.
    I did too, a couple of weeks back.

  7. #7
    Join Date
    Dec 2012
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    I smell poutine!!!
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    10,422
    Quote Originally Posted by DaveTV View Post
    Apparently people are howling for therapy each evening in Wellfleet, Mass (outer Cape Cod). Dead season down there, guess they channel their inner wolf and relieve cabin fever. Crazy times call for crazy outlets. Maybe this will become a "thing"

    Name:  `Howling as Therapy.JPG
Views: 401
Size:  78.9 KB
    Dafuq?

  8. #8
    Join Date
    Mar 2006
    Location
    General Sherman's Favorite City
    Posts
    20,252
    I’ve been letting the car’s engine and exhaust do the howling every day. Excellent therapy.
    I still call it The Jake.

  9. #9
    Join Date
    Nov 2004
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    YetiMan
    Posts
    11,387
    He was 100% silent when we got him from the pound.


    We were so proud. ��

  10. #10
    Join Date
    Oct 2003
    Location
    9,300ft
    Posts
    18,149
    Hail Libertas! Hail Reaper!
    Quote Originally Posted by blurred
    skiing is hiking all day so that you can ski on shitty gear for 5 minutes.

  11. #11
    Join Date
    May 2002
    Posts
    30,936
    I love howling with my dogs. I have heard my Great Pyrenees absolutely sing songs in his howls.

  12. #12
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    Mar 2008
    Location
    northern BC
    Posts
    20,069
    AKA Primal scream therapy ?
    Lee Lau - xxx-er is the laziest Asian canuck I know

  13. #13
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    Sep 2006
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    4,743
    Sorry but how could I not.



  14. #14
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    Jan 2009
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    907
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  15. #15
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    Jul 2002
    Location
    Suckramento
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    19,556
    Quote Originally Posted by DaveTV View Post
    Apparently people are howling for therapy each evening in Wellfleet, Mass (outer Cape Cod). Dead season down there, guess they channel their inner wolf and relieve cabin fever. Crazy times call for crazy outlets. Maybe this will become a "thing"

    Name:  `Howling as Therapy.JPG
Views: 401
Size:  78.9 KB
    Last edited by irul&ublo; 03-31-2020 at 10:51 AM.
    Quando paramucho mi amore de felice carathon.
    Mundo paparazzi mi amore cicce verdi parasol.
    Questo abrigado tantamucho que canite carousel.


  16. #16
    Join Date
    Jan 2008
    Location
    truckee
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    12,701
    Our cockapoo howls while we're preparing her supper. She doesn't howl to get us to do it, only after we've started.
    Remember primal scream therapy? Or maybe it's still around. When the Manson family was murdering the LaBiancas the neighbors thought their screams were people doing primal scream so they didn't call the cops.

  17. #17
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    Oct 2003
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    3,763
    Last edited by DaveTV; 04-24-2020 at 01:29 PM.







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