So, I was in a bar that looked just like thin in New Orleans one night. Spoiler alert, a lot of bars look like this in New Orleans. When a cop rode his horse into the bar right next to me. The bartender then took a handful of maraschino cherries and fed them to the horse. Aside from my very rational distaste for cops the horse eating cherries part was cute.
I am a case study in what happens when you just go with it to an extreme. I’ve been thinking about starting a community where I share stories about things I’ve done, things that happened to me, and more importantly the people I’ve met. I’ve been to Nepal and Tibet with a new age cult. I was a homeless heroin addict for over a decade. I was a racist piece of shit until I met an hiv infected gay man that took the time to teach me about empathy, and I am eternally grateful for the lessons he taught me.
I have tons of stories like this one and more. Far far crazier ones. My mom died when I was 7 and my dad worked a whole bunch of overtime and dated a lot. I didn’t really have parents. So I collected parental figures. One was a single dad biker that looked like captain Jack sparrow, but it was the 90’s. He made dinner for me every night. That way when I left night college I had a hot meal. He passed away last week.
I had a mother figure that was like a female early cuyler from squidbillies. She was red neck as fuck and always had a .38 revolver with her. She got me my first checking account. She also sold me Xanax.
I wouldn’t be against it. After all it’s the story of my experiences. From my point of view. So, I mean that would literally make me the main character. No “syndrome” necessary.
I would also like to point out that in many stories I am far from the main character. I am simply someone that was present for something unusual. For instance, One time I accidentally hung out with a murderer a few days after he killed, but a few days before he turned himself in. He only told me this once we were alone, and he went into great detail. I’m not the main character in that one. It’s just told from my perspective.
So, I was in a bar that looked just like thin in New Orleans one night. Spoiler alert, a lot of bars look like this in New Orleans. When a cop rode his horse into the bar right next to me. The bartender then took a handful of maraschino cherries and fed them to the horse. Aside from my very rational distaste for cops the horse eating cherries part was cute.
Something right out of a movie
I am a case study in what happens when you just go with it to an extreme. I’ve been thinking about starting a community where I share stories about things I’ve done, things that happened to me, and more importantly the people I’ve met. I’ve been to Nepal and Tibet with a new age cult. I was a homeless heroin addict for over a decade. I was a racist piece of shit until I met an hiv infected gay man that took the time to teach me about empathy, and I am eternally grateful for the lessons he taught me.
I have tons of stories like this one and more. Far far crazier ones. My mom died when I was 7 and my dad worked a whole bunch of overtime and dated a lot. I didn’t really have parents. So I collected parental figures. One was a single dad biker that looked like captain Jack sparrow, but it was the 90’s. He made dinner for me every night. That way when I left night college I had a hot meal. He passed away last week.
I had a mother figure that was like a female early cuyler from squidbillies. She was red neck as fuck and always had a .38 revolver with her. She got me my first checking account. She also sold me Xanax.
you should call the community Main Character Syndrome
I wouldn’t be against it. After all it’s the story of my experiences. From my point of view. So, I mean that would literally make me the main character. No “syndrome” necessary.
I would also like to point out that in many stories I am far from the main character. I am simply someone that was present for something unusual. For instance, One time I accidentally hung out with a murderer a few days after he killed, but a few days before he turned himself in. He only told me this once we were alone, and he went into great detail. I’m not the main character in that one. It’s just told from my perspective.
Sorry for your loss, and please, go ahead and create your community. I love stories