I decided this morning to listen to Ugly Kid Joe’s “America’s Least Wanted.” The idea grew out of the music that is videos playlist, which is a collection of songs first introduced to me through video. Some of the songs I had been familiar with before seeing the artist’s music expressed visually. That has shifted my perception about a song’s “intended” meaning, but meaning is not just up to the writer. The more artists show with their art, the more they give away of themselves through emotion. Walls break and weaken, allowing access to trauma and the personal pain of healing. When fans access that energy, the artists must hang…

I think I was 13 when I hosted an “end of the world” party with Jack Daniels drinks to celebrate summer vacation. I swear I don’t remember how we got the Tennessee Whiskey. Of course, I soaked my anxiety and brought a mixed drink of depression and teenage hormones to the party. I stirred alcohol straight into my ability to regulate my emotions. Then I shook it. What felt like one sip amounted to one slip, right off the side of a flimsy ping pong table that I thought would hold. Now isn’t that a metaphor for our entire relationship…. But it wasn’t a bottle that busted on the way…

There’s no going back, literally. Time machines are a worse idea than self-driving cars. But we can return to old ideas and revive ancient project ideas. “Let’s start a business!” I’ve said to more than a few people over more than a few years several times in my life. you don’t need someone to be something randomwhere And I did. I think Target Audience Magazine pulled me out of a deepening hole. An oubliette with dark walls covered in slippery sludge. No footing at all. I needed connection; helping hands. Maybe I was the bottom; maybe I was the way out, but we gravitated together as artists. We grew our…

Bon Jovi brings a flood of memories to my mind. I mean, the band had about a billion hit songs between my elementary and middle school years. I’m pretty sure four of the 10 songs on “Slippery When Wet” were incessantly played on the radio. Surely, you’ve heard “Livin’ on a Prayer” more than once. It’s playing in my head right now. Well, one of my elementary school classmates introduced me to Bon Jovi. She loved him because the each had an Italian last name. She proudly told anyone who would listen what she knew about Jon Bon Jovi’s history and why he changed the spelling of his last name.…

My return to writing in journals was like a return to active drug addiction after a handful of relapses with my drug of choice: the pen. I grip the barrel of the pen tightly between my fingers, and press the ballpoint tip and empty the ink chamber. Music didn’t have everything to do with it; neither did the delta 8/9/10 gummy experimentation. I’m pretty sure I could recognize the right path, but I’m not sure where it lies. randomwhere I have used music as a measure of similarity when getting to know someone. Genre doesn’t matter as much as the opportunity for conversation. Diversity is a controversial word believe it…

I’m not from New York and I don’t live in Atlanta, but they’re my landmarks. An island city and a landlocked one. There are 27 landlocked states. Of course. But Georgia isn’t one of them. I just live closer to the city where Sherman began his March to the “Sea” of Savannah, which sits at the edge of the Atlantic Ocean. What if instead of a seashell, we use a cellphone to hear the ocean? It will never be the same experience as when you hear the wind moving through your hair, as you gag on sand. And that, my friends, is the purpose of being alive. I spent roughly…