(Sally: I would recommend not reading this, but there is nothing offensive in it…I believe.)
In my younger years, when I was still too young to realize that heartbreak fades, when I thought the scars from my very short list of lost loves would forever be on display to any of my future lovers, I decided to be another 90s kid who put his voice out there by making a magazine; mine was called “The Subterranean.” While the magazine only had one issue (and only about 20 copies of it printed), it was a moment in my life when I was proud of something I had created. Continue reading Broken Hearts and Reincarnation
It is a bright, sunny, day in Florida. All across the state people are enjoying the oddly perfect January weather. The people who have been living in the state for a while sit around in jeans and light jackets, while the tourists and snowbirds lounge around in shorts and t-shirts. The bars bustle with fans of the Patriots and the Chiefs as the two teams battle it out to find their way into the AFC Championship game. As the beers pour faster and faster, the energy in the bars grows more rabid, and soon two perfect strangers are yelling at each other about whether or not New England cheated, or whether or not Andy Reid is a coach who is capable of coaching a winning team. As the exchange grows more heated the wearied bartender tells them to leave, a recommendation the two angry, drunk, patrons refuse to comply with, and suddenly the local police have arrived in order to hand out trespass orders to the two, usually mild-mannered, citizens who have now embarrassed their friends and family. Continue reading Kratom: The Sober Nightlife Choice of Many
Here I sit in the Frothy Monkey in the 12 South district of Nashville, just down the street from the restaurant where I arguably spent most of my time during the years I lived in this fantastic city. It was in this coffee shop I sat down and decided that if I was going to make it in this world as a writer I was going to have be dedicated to my craft. I couldn’t continue to find excuses on why I couldn’t write today. I had to find the dedication to take the time to pull out my laptop and type, even if it was only a few words. There were definitely days when I would write 100 words and just be over it, but at least I remained dedicated to the one activity I always cared about.
I used to be able to drink a beer faster than almost anyone else I knew. Actually, I may still be able to. I could pick up your pint of beer, and before you turned around the pint would be gone, leaving you wanting. Nobody ever got too mad at me for stealing their beer–normally they were impressed by how quickly I had made it disappear and would then inquire about how I had learned the skills to achieve such a feat. The truth is, I had learned how to do that because I didn’t want to be rejected by anyone, and (thanks to the groups I found myself hanging out in) I thought if I could drink faster than they could, they would accept me. This desire left me with a gift of being able to impress people at parties with what one of my friends lovingly referred to as “Matt’s Magic Trick.” Continue reading My Struggle With Addiction, Part II