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Category: Drunk’s Corner

  • Happy Holidays! (Three Months Late)

    Happy Holidays! (Three Months Late)

    Honestly, I can’t complain about Christmas this year. At least I got to spend the morning with my man and the afternoon binge watching every Christmas movie I owned or cared to watch off Netflix or Amazon. I found it a little disturbing and profound that I identified with George…

  • New Computer

    New Computer

    New computer! So nice to have a screen this big, My old 24” Visio TV is wide enough to see two pages at one time and still be able to read it! I have a second monitor for the hell of it, an old Dell salvaged out of a dumpster.…

  • Just An Update

    Just An Update

    So, this is a dumping ground for the moment…or the next few moments.

  • Stuck

    Stuck

    Every two-bit writer has an instruction manual on how to write a novel, and some aspiring writers take the texts as gospel, rigidly conforming to the prescribed method used by this or that particular writer. However, the fact remains that what works for one person does not always work for…

  • End of an Era

    End of an Era

    Over the last month I lived in Montana, I caught myself thinking things like, “That’s the last time I’ll walk through that door.” Or “That’s the last time I’ll see that person,” or hundreds of other ways it could be the “last”. Somehow, I found myself considering what it will…

  • Pre-Packing Purge

    Pre-Packing Purge

    Most of what I throw away is the kind of thing you find in the check-out aisles in any department store: half-eaten candy bars, Bic lighters, waxy flavored lip balm and Rubik’s Cube key chains.

  • The Wheels That Get Me There

    The Wheels That Get Me There

    “Badass” was the last term anyone would use to describe my first two vehicles. They were the soccer mom rigs of the late ‘80s and early ‘90s. The only claim to coolness either could make was that they rode like boats and had V8 engines.

  • Moving…Again!

    Moving…Again!

    At 6 a.m. on a September morning, my parents literally kicked me out of the tent at the KOA in Billings, Montana. Thus ended my first move as an adult and started a long career adrift.