Well shit…

I’m realizing it’s really time for something new to happen in my life. Hopefully I’m in some sort of control of what happens.

For the last many months I’ve been trying to wrap my head around some craziness that has occurred in my life. I’ve also realized that there really truly, is nothing stopping me from doing anything worthwhile except for… myself. No, really…

The Dog House Saloon in Fayetteville, NC was where it all came together. Well, most of it. Some of it came from the once in a lifetime love affair I had with a Colonel’s wife. Anyways. I’d drag the Harley out of the garage most nights and ride straight down to have a few cold ones. Coors Light was my vice at the time. Maybe it was the fact that I had a for-real Harley that I got treated like family there, but one of the best things about that place was when I walked in, I didn’t even have to ask for a drink. Daniel, Sarah, Chris, Tara Lee, Clint…. and Ame… Oh, Ame… You were the butter to my bread when I was able to drag you out for company… Or karaoke… Or just kickin’ it listening to cover bands all night.

I remember sitting there one day with Daniel and I said… “I’m going to open a place when I get out.” I was never so sure of anything in my life until that point. Well, mo-fuckers…. I did it. It was a humbling experience really. I got support from people I never expected and I also got hands held out from people I never expected. I lost my soul in that place. It was the moment I’ve written about before in this blog… I sold my .45 to quell those thoughts from coming to fruition. Though I wasn’t a high volume place, I was always running out of food, short staffed and I found myself starting at zero every damn month. What could have catapulted me to the next level was spent on keeping people off my back. It’s surprising who has your back when such things are on the line.

I’m determined to open another place. Or multiples of places. As much as it’s about the money, it’s really about the passion you find within yourself to do something. I can’t quite preach the ideals that I think will carry me through to the next big thing in life, but I can do my best to wrangle up the demons that seem to keep me from progressing.

Somewhere, deep down the fire is still alive… and I’ll be able to tell a bad-ass story someday.


Jesus was a bastard child…

It’s been a while. Oh how I’ve missed this whole writing bit. I found a peculiar motivation tonight to start writing some more. Not sure it will be an everyday affair as I made it before, but ya know… Fuck it.

I’ve hated having to be someone for someone else. I remember having to sit through some bullshit lecture from a camp counselor when me and my friend Kevin didn’t bring our bibles to camp. When they forced us to take possession of their renditions, we got in trouble if we didn’t put them on top of every other item in our drawers. As a kid, I never understood it. I never felt it in my heart. I’ve never been ‘saved’ even when I told people I felt the ‘blood of Jesus running through my veins.’ It was all a shit show story to get people off my back.

The night I was on the floor in the Papa Murphy’s getting my face beat in by some fat fucker trying to rob the place was my first taste of what life was really all about. The only person responsible for saving ourselves is in fact, ourselves.

Come ye bible thumpers and born-again disciples of the almighty. Rip me apart for speaking such foul sentiment of your beloved savior.

My question of the age is this… Why on earth would anyone want to live a life where they are expecting the spirit of a zombie Jew to carry them through? Why not do it yourself? CAN you actually do it yourself?

How’s that for returning to the blog-o-sphere with a bang?

Whether you like it or not, we are all here for a purpose we won’t understand while ‘in the flesh.’ What I will tell you though is that we must learn to be compassionate to one another and understand that regardless of why we are here, this life is not meant to be lived without trying to make some sort of impact on the world. Do it how you please, but quite simply; don’t be an asshole.

It’s not about the money. It’s not about the fame, or notoriety. It’s not really about who you’re fuckin’ or the drama you create because you’re not the one doing the fuckin’… You jealous bastard, you. Take a look at who you really are. Take a look at what’s been put on your plate right in front of you. Quit looking at the heftier portions that are given to those sitting across from you.

Let the friend self-pruning process begin…