It was just as miserable as my buddy had warned it would be and I was glad I wasn’t hungover. It was only then, as we were flying away, somewhere over the Pacific between Australia and American Samoa, that someone gave me the bad news.
From my bed I could see into the hallway, and out to the nurses station where a pair of bored looking women in colorful scrubs sat typing away on aging desktop computers. But there was something else. A shadow. Something stalking.
One fine summer day I was driving down the highway with the windows down and Waylon Jennings turned up when I saw a big, black, truck barreling toward me in the oncoming lane. Now I was born in the Deep South. I’m not a truck hater. Hell I’ve
Sorry mom.
Beside my bed is a notebook where I jot ideas that come to me in the moments before sleep. On the last page I have written, “THE HOOK IS YOU DON’T HAVE THE FUCKING WORDS TODAY JUST LIKE YOU DIDN’T HAVE THE WORDS 26 YEARS AGO!” It’s true I guess.
I’ll walk Jack and take a shower and I’ll figure it out. It'll be so clear in my head but by the time I’m toweled off it’ll be faded away like the steam from the shower, gone.
I knew with a cold certainty I’ve never experience before or since that if I chose to quit, if I closed my eyes right then I would slip back into the cold, comfortable darkness. I wouldn’t feel a thing ever again.
I couldn't help but shake my head. "You motherfucker..." Jack just looked at me with big sad eyes and wagged his tail. "Whole goddamned world is falling apart and you're just sitting in a sunbeam." If a dog could shrug Jack would've.
After a long hard winter in Massachusetts and in need of a break from the weather I took a trip to Austin Texas in May of 2024 to spend time with friends, eat tacos, drink beer and catch a Drive by Truckers concert at Austin City Limits. I wrote this
So here I am. Blogging. Like some pretentious Brooklynite with a trust fund.