Post Therapy Clarity™️

I think going to a bar for a drink and writing after therapy is good actually.

This time last year, it was common for me to get off work, walk over to my favorite ramen bar where all my friends worked and write something for this newsletter if the bar was too busy for conversations.

That place has since been turned into one of the least cool places in my community by some millionaire Trumper who bought it and fired everyone.

About an hour ago, I finished my teletherapy and walked up a few blocks to a place called Parkway Tavern. It’s a spot I visit on and off. Actually, when my dad was first of drinking age, HE came here. It’s a Tacoma institution. One my friends who used to work at the ramen bar, now works here (although he’s not here tonight.) and Parkway Tavern has Malört so a little bit, it feels like I’m somewhat finding my new third place.

Nothing will fill the Moshi shaped hole in our lives though. That was a magic time.

I sat down here with the intention of beginning my next book. A analogous look at my childhood experience with mental health, family secrets, and creating burning bridges in the name of growth- all set in a fictional fantasy world. I’m excited. But the second I opened my phone, I decided to start writing something else, somewhere else.

One of the most important steps to writing something new is all the time you spend avoiding writing it. That’s what I’m doing.

someone at a table nearby is trying to impress the woman at his table with his intellect by describing the similarities of capitalism and communism. So far, I have not heard him articulate one sentence that supports this idea.

All I know is that this is a piece of dialogue that will not be useful for me to steal and apply in my story.

The table is actually filled with three big white dudes and one woman and it’s like the dudes are in a competition to see who can impress her the most but none of them have ever had original thoughts or talk about anything besides memes or fishing.

Down the hall from where I’m sitting, is shuffleboard (indoor miniature curling), a dart board, and a pool table. That is a room where I do not belong. I mean, I’m allowed back there. I haven’t committed any heinous crimes against pool cues or anything.

But I’d be so far out of my element.

I used to be a stand up comedian. I guess I’m still one because I could walk up on stage, grab the mic out of the mic stand, move the mic stand to the back of the stage behind me, all while starting my opening bit. It would be obvious to the audience and the comics in the room, that I’ve done this many times.

I feel like, if I walked back there, everyone would know, on site, that I have no idea what I’m doing. That’s why I don’t belong. I’d feel the same way about bowling but whenever I’ve walked into a bowling alley, there have been birthday parties where small kids are using bumpers. Once they let kids into bars and offer bday bumper pool, I’ll go back there with all the confidence of a grown adult.

Actually, why isn’t there bday bumper pool? And why aren’t bowling alleys just bars with no kids?

I hope you aren’t waiting for me to wrap all of this up with a philosophical conclusion that ties all of this nonsense together. I’ve got bad news.

I’m a shot of Malört and half a gin cocktail into this thing and I’ve had no idea where any of it is going from the moment I typed “This time last year…”

Maybe Parkway will be a permanent third location. Maybe I’ll try multiple third locations. Maybe it was just the closest one to my house with Malört on a Thursday where a friend works.

So that’s going to have to work for now.

Ok.

Time to start writing this new book.