Bearded Gang

Heading to the mountains today after work. Not necessarily worth an announcement but this is one of those journal posts that will build up steam as I write or it’ll sit in the draft department for the next eon or two. I probably have a hundred drafts sitting in my WordPress folder. Some I had every intention of finishing the next day, others that never made a point and a few that are too personal to post so they sit forever unpublished but accessible to my eyes only. There’s nothing juicy about them I just didn’t feel like they were meant to be shared. Believe it or not I don’t share everything that pops in my head.

Close but not always

My fam is out of town I’ve gotten used to being a bachelor in the month of July. They have their little beach trips with friends lined up all month, I usually make one of these trips during the summer but it didn’t work out this year. It’s not an emotional letdown for me. I like hanging with the family at the beach but the crowds get to me some weeks. I prefer the beach in early fall or mid spring.

I don’t swim in the monster soup. I was raised to never walk where you can’t see your feet. I do get in the water at times but I’m just not an ocean guy.

I’ll be in Linville to camp and play on my board in lake James. It’ll be an unplugged weekend I’m practicing for a bigger one coming up. My next big trip will be Adirondacks/ Catskills and some upper New England. I’ve got Maine on my mind and the White Mountains. Mount Washington is on my bucket list. I’d like to see Katahdin mountain again. I lost my hat up there 6 years ago. Maybe I’ll find it. Also my trekking poles. Baxter state park is a beautiful place they drive up there zigzags through a few tiny Maine towns with their own personality, along with lobster rolls. My first and last lobster roll was in Maine. It’s time for another.

This trip will be different I’m stripping myself of all social media and internet. My phone will be turned off and placed in a box. There will be times when I’ll have to email orders for work and if I have a dire situation where I need to make a phone call it’ll be charged and ready. I’ll be purchasing a cheap flip phone for communication. My truck has satellite guidance for navigation. I’ve traveled cross country with atlases on several occasions but I’m not going back to that. I’ll need satellite for some of the off grid places I’m exploring. I need to unplug. No pictures except with my actual fujifilm that needs some playtime anyway. My goal is to take only one photo that represents my trip for the day, I won’t hesitate in taking a few more if it razzles my dazzles. The solitude will be intense this go round. 10-12 days.

I’m stripping myself of a few things this trip. My diet will change, some daily habits that I feel are no longer apart of the person I’m becoming that need to be shedded.

Some fasting, pondering, reinforcing.

This trip has been calling me for the last year. Not the destination, the trial and experience. It’s going to be a hard one for me as far as dissolving my comfort zones. The only reason for the flip phone is to keep in touch with my family and work. There will be no peeps from me otherwise.

Why are you doing this Chad? I’m just trying to remember something.

Who I used to be. It’s a recovery mission. Find the guy I lost during years of alcohol abuse, vocational responsibilities, trauma, entrepreneurship and the noise.

I’m going to find him and bring him back home with me.

Hopefully

I’ve got approximately 3 weeks. My trip up in the mountains will be for planning and encouraging. I’m not anxious as much as I’m curious as to how I’ll reckon with it.

I’m supposed to do this.

It’s my own personal pilgrimage. It’ll be interesting.

My mind has been slowly preparing me. I feel it massaging my brain *hands rubbing down my cerebrum “you guide me”

“Show me where you’re tense”

Weirdo

My brain had a little download last night. I could literally feel the oncoming signal. Usually they come in gradual steps this one came with an attachment. A difficult but necessary one.

My belief, my experience is when you are trying to change certain parts of your mind, body and soul- before you can make that change you have to sculpt or paint the ideal “you” first.

Your ideal portrait of you

Who am I trying to be?

What do I want to become?

“What do I want to look like?”

And then

“How do I do it?”

I’ve only just begun to curate this moment. The “who am I?” has taken some time because of the “where the hell have I been?” was a long one. I wrote a long list of improvements 6 years ago. I’ve been notching them. Little bits here and there and now it’s time for a big long haul of change.

The key and this is just my personal opinion and experience from what I’ve learned and studied-

Picture the ideal you in your mind

Sculpt it, mold it, fancy it deliberately in your head.

List your shortcomings

List your future goals and achievements.

Create that little action figure in your head and go.

I call it my 3 D’s

You will need your entire Devotion

Dedication

Discipline

It’s hard. It’s a long trip depending on your action figure plan. I’m not selling courses here yall.

I’m expounding experience.

Mine is more spiritual than vocational.

My download last night told me that it’s time to buckle down and get ready. It’s time to roll.

*Me with a Milky Way bar sticking out of my mouth “well.. fuck. Ok”

This isn’t magic.

When you sit still with yourself as much as I have you may experience these downloads. You will feel the signals. Grab your frequency, your energy as it flows by and take the ride. That’s all I’m doing. There ain’t no bench seat for me. I’m standing up the whole time.

It’s truly amazing when you begin to understand yourself. Feel yourself breaking free from the domestication.

Feral but grounded.

I gotta pack. Later 🐊s

I signed the lease on Southern on this day back in 2012. This day used to be a big day to me. I always enjoyed telling this little story when I was operating the stores. The day still has significance. It represents my first taste of entrepreneurship, lessons learned and it started a wild 8 year ride for me.

2012- 14 years have passed since that day. I feel like the pendulum has finally swung entirely back from that moment. I can visualize myself riding this giant physical pendulum like Slim Pickens riding that bomb in Dr. Strangelove. At the beginning I’m straddling it like a bull, twirling my cowboy hat in the air, dusty leather chaps whistling in the air. Once it finally returned I was holding on with both hands trembling, eyes wide open, letting out a long hard sigh.

Entrepreneurship man *long sigh

It’s not as significant as it used to be. It always started with “man I’ve come along since I signed that lease”. And I have. It’s weird looking back thinking how young you seemed at 40 years of age.

All the excitement.

Odd I opened Graze the day before.

I also found out I was having a daughter 17 years ago yesterday. The range of memorable emotions are quite jumbled around this time of the year. I’m genuinely curious of what other happenstances have occurred. I don’t follow astrology, I do think it has its significance with our lives I just get lost in the stars sometimes..

This short little season as I have just named it as such grabs my life’s attention. Yesterday I announced my deli’s anniversary and spent the rest of the day somewhat anxious. After my post I could almost sense a small rustle of change coming.

A changing of course, direction, a distant future memory.

I was unusually quiet at work. Deli was dragging for a bit and I sat in my little chair in my office/camping gear storage room and sat still with open eyes and rested. Pondering absolutely nothing just sitting in my chair.

Boston’s We’re Ready sang in my headphones as I typed that out

“And I know that there’s something that’s just out of sight

And I feel like I’m finally seein’ the light”

*crooked smile

Life changes when you begin to notice the patterns and synchronicities. If I had a dollar every time a song lyric lines up at the perfect moment.

If you need more proof Trey Anastasio is telling me at the moment “Everything’s right so just hold tight”

I’m not a Phish head but I like this song. It resonates for all the good reasons. I sat with a sunrise in folly beach the first time I heard this song on a cold fall morning. That was my introduction.

It was amazing

My life’s changing soon. I feel it. That’s why I’m getting anxious with anticipation. I don’t have a clue as to what it may be.

I just feel it. The trail markers are facing the eastern sunrise. Sun be a shinin’ right on em.

We’re ready (me, myself and I)

I write first thing when I get up these days. It’s my way of disassociating with social media. I’m pushing some distractions away to clear my path for what’s to come.

No announcements and I don’t know if there will be. Not sure why I just wrote that.

I need my ears and eyes open. I’m being encouraged. Even movies and tv shows no longer hold my attention these days. They are becoming a part of the past.

Does anyone actually read these?

I’ve been journaling for three years now. Thousands and thousands of words typed on this little phone.

Expressing

Ranting

Healing

I used to think it was the meditating that was healing my mind from depression and it did/does

But

Journaling is the pill. 💊

The prescription I needed. All it took was my daughter buying me a notebook to write my recipes and over a hundred thousand words later here we are. That’s what started my journaling, my love for writing.

You could stretch a synchronicity line like a piece of elastic fabric here.

You find out you’re having a daughter in this mini era that will change your perspective on life forever

You open up a business that significantly changes the trajectory of your life

That beautiful little surprise from 17 years ago decides to buy you a notebook with her own money for you to write in.

You open another business in this small window

That little notebook purchase inspires you to start writing.

The years of journaling heals your mind after years of destructive mental health.

You sit on the sofa while all of this syncs. *tear rolls down cheek. Equation would read

Daughter’s gift = healing my soul

Lily whenever you read these- thank you kiddo. * multiple tears.

Want to add in the light that came on in my head I wrote about last week? Came on 5 years ago. Right around this time.

Literally just wrote about it.

Life’s wild when you loosen the control and distractions.

All I did was ride the pendulum.

I can remember this day fairly well. I’m standing in front of my brand new, well oiled butcher block table, staring at my two employees. I’d had a throbbing headache for the last four days and was suffering from brain fog. I felt like I was suffering from a hangover but I had stopped drinking over two years before. I remember hangovers well. I was handwriting my sandwich menu one hour before I intended to unlock the doors. I’d been scribbling menu ideas for the last month. It had been four years since I’d written a full menu. I wrote one for charcuterie in late 2020 and never looked at the menu again. Still haven’t to be honest it still has some of the old ingredients that I have to orate the updates to new customers. I was trying to break out of my confidence funk I’d been in for years. My head was about to burst. I had not finalized a single menu and I was opening up that day. It was a Tuesday. I was showing my two employees the procedure for a buffalo cold cut sandwich

“Let’s add some pickled onions, blue cheese, buffalo sauce… mozz.. and pepperoni.” I was sweating profusely we had a giant toaster on the prep table that warmed the deli up by 5°

Barry – “do we have any buffalo sauce?”

Me “fuck!”

“Ok squeeze some BBQ on it, remove the blue, mozz, pepperoni and add fried onions, hot honey mustard seed annnnnd jalapenos.”

Late for the bbq was born, 20 minutes before we opened. As was about 6 more sandwiches I implemented that morning. I noticed I was sweating much more than my two compadres and started to think there might be a little more wrong with me that opening day jitters.

Barry -“ you look bad. Have you been tested for Covid?”

Me- “nope, I’ve never had it before”

Barry of course has a Covid test in his backpack. Barry has everything in his backpack.

The test turned positive in like 12 seconds.

“Well fuck now what?”

We gotta close. I can’t even think straight much less try a grand opening. I had one customer come in, bought a build your own sandwich and then I locked the doors until Saturday. I was still sick. But I had bills to pay. By that time my staff would lose one so it was just me and Barry.

Pretty much still is.

I opened with a poorly written chalkboard menu with 6 sandwiches on it. I opened the doors and put my ass at the counter. I had no counter person my family had a trip planned a while back that just happened to align with the opening of the deli.

I hadn’t worked face to face with a customer since 2012. I had some anxiety to work through. It took a few months. I’m still not the best face to see when you walk in but I do my best. My beard hides my gritting teeth.

It took some time for the deli and I to connect. Probably into 2025. I didn’t want to be there. I was still trying to shake off some old Southern vibes that attached to me like a vice grip.

I had known I was going to open a storefront for some time. After I had moved to Birds in 2021 my mind began to plan. It was a completely different concept at the time. Evening hours, pre order charcuterie boards with a full bar. My concepts revolved around bars. They always have. When I put the bottle down in 2022 I knew I could not operate a full functioning bar sober.

The concept immediately changed to a deli.

In my head as I worked at Birds and then later the meadery I built the deli concept in my head. I never thought about the money aspect. In my mind I’d make it happen regardless of what it took. I will always applaud my hardheadedness for this decision. Money didn’t matter to me. The deli would’ve been built with cardboard first if I had to.

The deli

I never grew up wanting to open a deli. The same could be said for restaurants I suppose until I hit my late 20s.

The deli is attached to my reckoning. If you’re reading one of these for the first time I refer to a four plus years old breakdown of my mental state that I personally analyzed and methodically broke down to work on myself.

To rebuild myself

To regain myself

Rebirth

Four plus years of humility, sobriety, meditation, reevaluation and recalibration.

I remember writing about one of my old employees Matt, who passed from alcoholism. It’s his window box with the Southern Cukture chef coat, chef knife and a Twinkie. He and I bumped foreheads quite a bit over his drinking at work. We didn’t get along that well for the most part but I liked how he treated his mother. Matt like most line cooks walked around with a chip on his shoulder. Gruff, intolerant but extremely talented. When no one was looking he had a soft side. I held onto that soft side of him to remind me that there was more to him than just being a talented drunk.

Our last conversation was about his drinking.

“Matt what’s your ultimate goal in life man. What’s your dream?”

Matt- “to open my own deli”

Me- “you’ll never see that day Matt if you don’t slow down the drinking”. I never saw myself in Matt until he died. He died the very next day in his sleep.

And even then it took another three years to realize it. That I was also Matt. He was a reflection of who I might become. When I left Southern I was on par to meet Matt again much sooner than anticipated.

I tie this conversation in with my deli for important reason.

“Open my own deli”

Subliminal message

My reckoning had about a thousand layers to it. New ones that built upon some old ones. It was first and only reckoning I didnt know how to act. I peeled away quite a bit.

I had forgotten most of our conversation that day. As I was walking around my deli about a year ago that convo popped in my head and I froze. I may have been looking at his box hanging on my deli wall.

“To open my own deli”

It was late afternoon I was closing up shortly. I stopped and cried for a moment. I walked into the bathroom and bawled.

Matt opened this deli with me.

Matt was a reflection of me but only after he passed.

I needed to meet him. As I’ve said before, Matt and I weren’t close. I’m sure he flung some slurs at me every night when he went home because I rode his ass. But I respected his talent and I mourned his demons along side of him.

“To open my own deli”

I opened Matt’s deli

I might as well of called it “Lewie’s” that was his work name I never called him that but everyone else did.

“Fix yourself Matt before it’s too late so you can open up your deli.”

Extremely poor timing.

But

Matt, you passed the fucking baton. I’ve never really talked about this to anyone although it’s been on my mind for sometime.

The deli was born on that day. I just didn’t know it yet.

I became Matt when I left Southern.

In some ways.

When I was fighting the bottle I’d think of Matt and how I watched him slowly die. I’d wake up with my red eyes, bloated cheeks and look in the mirror and see Matt sometimes.

I put his window box in my attic I didn’t need any reminders. The Twinkie had to be replaced from getting cooked up there.

I opened this deli on auto pilot. For three years I was on that auto pilot to create this deli.

I told everyone I was opening up a deli and not one person asked why?

Including myself. I knew why but I didn’t. Yet

Oh the fucking trail markers are singing their ass off right now.

It’s not a deep as I make it out to be. Actually yes it is.

Pay close attention to people that are inserted into your life.

The deli is an extension of my reckoning. I’ve always known this I just needed to acknowledge it, say it aloud.

That’s why it has always felt temporary. I needed a proving ground and I created one. A reckoning side quest. Or maybe it was/is the main one and it took some walking to find it.

2 years man. I thought I’d gone through some things the four years before I opened it.

And I did

The last two have solidified the conversion. It’s weird to see an olds photo of yourself and think “who is that?”

Matt, you sneaky SOB.

I did his eulogy. My only one I’ve ever done. I was meant to and I can’t tell you why I just said that. I don’t do public speaking but I walked right up there with no notes and talked for 20 minutes. Not a dry service industry eye in the house.

Including mine.

I was speaking my own eulogy too.

Man

Ouch

Auto writing is wild man. I came here to tell a story about my deli anniversary and landed here.

That’s enough for today.

Peace and happy birthday Graze.

As I was chatting with my employee Barry at Graze yesterday, I caught a subliminal moment coming out of my mouth before I could catch it. We were talking about my last special board features I had done. I pulled the board down a couple of hours earlier while I was expressing my thoughts on the locals and why my features sink from time to time. I’ll spare the conversation for brevity sake and the fact that 95% of it was lowkey profanity and frustration but at the end of my rant I said

“I dont see a reason to do anymore specials at this point.”

I paused and crooked smiled at Barry. “I’m not sure what I meant by that Barry.”

I posted a Instagram story of me on a paddle board that I’ve become quite fond of, middle of a lake, sunset on my face and a big smile. Text across the screen read “who wants to buy a deli?”

I was joking although if Daddy Warbucks slid in my DMs flashing some cheese… well, your boy might sniff it.

“I’m not going anywhere Barry. What the fuck else am I going to do?”

Barry has been my main guy, side arm, wing man, confidant, sous, prep dude for 14 years. He knows where I hid the bodies. I get overstimulated and bored when I work. I also consume upwards of a quart of double brew coffee every morning. I’m going to tell you what’s on my mind until I crash around 1pm.

Barry has made an art out of working with me all these years. He always came back when no one else would. When I win my lottery and you can bet your fucking ass I will, Barry will never work another day in his life. I mean I’m selling like 20 sandwiches a day right now so he’s not really working.

Joking. My deli that is actually not for sale (at this moment) gives me all I need in life. I run such a low overhead after getting annalized by my last business that I’ve mastered the low hum of business CPR. Keeping it alive and kicking even when it’s not ticking.

I literally just made up this entire phrase in my head. It may not make the cut, post editing.

The deli does as it should. My ego wants a fucking line out the door. It wants Southern brunch extravaganza. It wants accolades on Greenville fucking foodies and plaques of best awards.

It doesn’t get any of that. Last Tuesday we did about $200 in sales. Worst day ever. Well except the very first day of business when I closed after being open for only 30 minutes and tested positive for Covid. $8 that day.

It has some ridiculously slow days. And then it’ll have the most random fucking sales ever, a last minute 100 person catering, 2 fifteen foot grazing tables in one week. It evens out over time. Christmas is consistent but it sucks two months out of my annual life.

And that drives me fucking crazy. It’s unforecastable. I’m a corporate dude. I can’t deal with that.

But

You see my life on here. I’m camping, traveling, exploring. The deli – It’s working.

Just some fucking consistency please.

Also

Food is not my passion. It has never been. I was pulled into the kitchen kicking and screaming. And then my paycheck excelled as my talent did. So I followed that carrot I mentioned the other day. I faked it until I knew how to do it. I’ve never taken my craft seriously. It’s probably what keeps me around. I think at some point yesterday I had said to Barry “I’m just putting meats and cheese on a plate in a nice and consistent way and I’m doing it for a living” I get in my own head too much at times. I’ve spent the last 16 years working out of a kitchen.

Now my boot is stuck.

At least it’s a comfortable one.

I just can’t take it off

Enough with the metaphors

Listen, I’m happy. I’m solid, life ain’t bad broseph

But

When I said “I don’t see a point in doing any specials anymore”

I knew what I meant.

I challenge you to sit still for at least an hour. A challenge of silence.

No

Phone

Music

Book

Friends

Games

Tech

Drawing

Creating

Cleaning

E

T

C

Sit down, relax and take a load off. No napping either that’s not silence that’s sleep and there’s quite a difference.

Find a cozy spot and sit. That’s all you have to do. You can close your eyes if you’d like, heck I’d recommend it. Focus on your breathing. Is it shallow? Probably. Most of us have never analyzed our breathing patterns. Short intakes, barely noticeable exhaling.

We don’t keep much air in there to care.

Sit, relax. 60 minutes and go!

Did you do it? I didn’t either but I have. I have on many occasions it’s not that hard for me but then I’ve had some practice. You spend enough time up yonder in those mountain moments you get a handful of silent opportunities.

I find it’s a valuable resource to observe silence. I’ve come quite a long way of being placed in the front row of the teachers in every classroom for 12 years.

Sit still Chad!

Be quiet Chad!

When I graduated high school I got louder. Busily brazen. And stood on that podium for years and years thinking you needed noise to make yourself heard.

Even when I was quiet I liked to be around noise

Crowd noise

Bar noise

Event noises

Work noise

Noise was where the fun was.

Noise is always moving fast. It gets you moving even when you don’t want to.

Noise can be chaotic.

I’m sure I could keep these examples coming for days. I think you get it.

I discovered silence not too long ago. Eh, more like it discovered me. I didn’t start hanging on the back of my tailgate, camping to observe silence. When I would head for the hills I’d bring something to occupy my time. Whether it was a tablet with a downloaded book, movie or game, my phone to scroll or some sort or camping gear or toy to keep me occupied I’d always have something in my hands. On some occasions I’d go up the mountain and realize I’d left my tablet behind or something I had to engage with while I sat in the woods. I did this for a few years. Sure I love camping, enjoy the outdoors and always ready for a healthy hike but sometimes I felt like my quest for solitude always seemed to lack something. The alcohol didn’t help. It was the loudest noise.

Stillness

Calm

Silence

When I was building my deli my free time was limited so I started doing quick trips up to Chimney Rock and I’d stay at the local Hickory Nut Gap campground. It was only a quarter mile from town but it had zero internet. I’d pull in around 1pm for check-in, unload my truck and stick my camping chair next to the river under the shade of a tree for hours. Sometimes I’d read but most times I’d stare into the water.

And let my mind go. The construction of the deli was sizzling my brain. I’d go up to escape for a night and come back the next morning after my morning walk into the village. I’d spend at least an hour or two starting into the river with my ear buds playing some groovy tunes. When they’d run out of charge I’d sit with them still in my ears but only listen to the river roll on by

And let my mind go

Your mind has a different way of explaining things to you when you sit still.

When you go quiet.

When the noise dissipates your mind settles down. You begin to follow suit.

Insert the calm

Serenity

Peace

Your brain is full of unfinished puzzles and knots. When you allow it to stew, to sit and ponder without getting all your noisy distracting shit in its way, the solutions to your puzzles begin to form.

The knots get untangled. Clarity begins to creep up.

The day I spent on Hunting Island while some random fog sat on top of the area the entire time, no WiFi, no internet, no electronics.. I sat under a tree in my hammock and did nothing all day. I took a long walk on the beach and I could barely see the ocean from the fog. It was eerily quiet from that pea soup screen of built up moisture. From 6am to 9pm I had only my thoughts to contend with. By the end of the day I would become a completely different person. Not overnight mind you but real fucking close. I’m sure there are a variety of reasons and or explanations of what I experienced while I perched in my tent that night

But

In my own opinion the stillness awoke the awareness.

I have to admit that for the next several camping trips I was trying to replicate that experience by forcing my silence into the scene. It became a staging. It just wasn’t the same for me. Like holding your breath when you aren’t under water. I need to submerge myself into the quiet and not try to jump in.

When it’s quiet you begin to listen.

You begin to filter out the clutter

Mind litter

Epiphanies tally

Big mind things become minuscule.

You begin to realize that voice in your head isn’t necessarily yours. It’s just an echo of your life’s experience.

Some trips I’ll strip down my distractions to observe my thoughts and actions. Your mind corrals around comfort zones and routines. It’s interesting to watch what you do, where your mind goes after it’s run out of diversions. I’ve watched myself walk around in circles in my camp until the noisy spell wears off.

And then

I sit

I let it go.

I let it all go.

The noise goes quiet

Deli hate goes quiet

Stress releases

I currently have my headphones on. I write with them to keep my focus. Sailing by Christopher Cross is slowly coming on. Anyone that enjoys this song gets what I mean. The song gradually picks up tempo and volume. Your shoulders slump. Sailing is Christopher Cross’s silence, his stillness.

I’ve been driving up the mountain almost weekly since April. Sailing is my camping.

“Takes me away to where I’ve always heard it could be
Just a dream and the wind to carry me
And soon I will be free”

Silence/ stillness frees you from the distortion.

I spent my Sunday afternoon staring downhill into a mountain lake.

In complete silence.

My head did as it has always done. It started chatting away waiting for some engagement. When I didn’t reply it began to mutter quietly. Like a sleepy toddler refusing to lie down. Eventually it falls asleep and I’m left to myself.

My real self.

And we just sit.

Letting the slate cleanse itself.

Mental enemas

We aren’t meant to be this distracted. We deliberately do the dopamine drip to stay awake and fed. Turn off the faucet for a bit

I’ve closed quite a few noisy doors over the last couple of years just by being still.

Enjoying the silence.

An hour may not be an option for some of you, unfortunately because of all the noise we’ve created over time it may not be possible with the extra responsibilities we put on our platters.

Shouldn’t have to be an effort to sit still.

I have over a thousand notes on my phone. It’s mostly grocery store products that I’ll type out in short hand while I’m in a hurry running to Publix I’m walking around my deli with my thumb inputting data of needed inventory.

Bags (baguettes)

Crack (crackers duh)

Ons (onions)

Cukes

Goat

Loin

Saur

Bake

I know what it all means and if you took a moment you’d figure it out. Changing my shorthand to longhand has been one of my new habits I’m trying to work out. Deliberately writing it all out or typing it all out. I may have mentioned I bought a notebook not too long ago to help me write slower and more coherent. I blend my cursive and printed letters together. Some letters are larger and in capitals in between other letters so my handwriting resembles a poorly sketched mountain range.

I’m working on it. I feel it’s important to be able to express yourself through the deliberation of hand writing your thoughts and feelings. The amount of things I’ve been able to put behind me just from writing them out has helped my own personal rehabilitation journey. I keep that notebook in the back of my camper. On a calm day I’ll write quotes, sketch and practice the art of lettering. It’s not exciting by any means and it’s not supposed to be. It’s meant to ground my mind and speed of thought. Somedays I can hold a thought for .002 seconds before staring into space with a burning object in my hand. Half of my mind lives in a fantasy world of “what if” while the other half tries to chase the answer.

My other notes are short little quips, written with brevity to save time as I try to decipher what was going on in my head at that moment.

Resting in between “napkins” and “celery” you may find random inserts such as “don’t forget who you are”

“When you’re done running life begins”

“Slow it down today”

Half the time I don’t remember typing these out. Mostly because my thoughts are just flurries of words or I’m trying to engage with myself for a new journal entry but then someone sticks a pop tart in my face and I forgot where I was going.

New menu ideas

Recipe cards

Camping coordinates or checklists

Passwords because who remembers them anymore? I never connect the password to its purpose so it never works. I’ll have Beardedgangalicious95!?>><<££ and have no idea what it accesses. Chances are I’ll change the password again immediately and leave it open until my phone shuts down. I don’t care about these things anymore. The older I get the more things I choose to leave behind. One day I hope my last email will read

“I hope you email doesn’t find you”

Sorry, tangent ☕️

*refills cup

I enjoy my morning coffee. It’s my favorite routine that I allow on a daily, must have basis. I allow myself three refills, that doesn’t mean three full cups of coffee, my refills are made when my coffee reaches a distinct level or temperature. I may get my second refill after a few sips because I require more heat. I may be deep in writing and drink the entire cup which means I have to replenish my raw sugar levels in my coffee. Or honey at times. I only drink coffee in white colored cups if I have the option. I don’t like colored coffee cups the coffee doesn’t taste the same I will fight you on this.

My wife calls it my tism

I won’t even talk about forks and spoons don’t ever hand me a round handled utensil to eat. I need friction with my eating tools.

Am I still tangeting? I make my own words.

I’ve been struggling with posting one of my blogs from last week because I started it mid afternoon, paused, and finished it after an edible. It’s two different perspectives of the same day. I rarely write after 8pm for a reason should I indulge in a gummy or a plant.

My post last night about rhubarb should tell you all you need to know about that..

“But Chad you can’t call yourself sober if you smoke 💨”

I don’t call myself anything anymore but happy and proud. I’ve never blacked out and lost my car on a gummy. I’ve never hit anyone over the head with a bottle after a bowl.

I’ve never woken up with regret from THC, well maybe the occasional bedtime Milky Way bar but other than that I don’t care. I work out 6 days a week, I’m 25 lbs lighter and here’s a weird thing I’ve begun to notice. The more I walk around smiling the more smiles I get back.

Who’d a thunk it?

I may change the headline of this post to “Tangents”

I’m slowly changing my look, deliberately mind you. It’s fun to visualize another form of you in your mind and then chase that

Look

Feel

Vibe

Energy

Try it sometime. It’s fun.

I’ve started waxing my mustache and curling it to give my mouth a waxed form of a smile. Almost like those nasty wax mustaches you could eat like candy. I didn’t like how my mustache made me look like a walrus at times. It’s why I look like I’m frowning all the time. I get more smiles with the mustache up. Hell it makes me smile more because I know I look ridiculous sometimes.

Life’s short. Wax that fucking stache

2021 will always be labeled as a not so fun year for me. I’ve never paid attention to the amount of alcohol I’ve consumed per year but I’d probably put that year as the top for empty vodka bottles. I was a mess. In my head any significance of a professional future was gone. I was making some charcuterie boxes from my home and melting my brains while building out a trailer for hotdogs at Birds Fly South. I got hot enough to toss my cookies inside the trailer and a week later some asshat would bust out my windows and my sad ass sat outside and cried for a good half hour. I lost money trying to sell hotdogs. One day we’d sell 50 and then sell 6 the weekend. My little charcuterie menu at Birds had tanked. As Greenville often does the first week announcement of my collaboration with Birds was met with enthusiasm and fizzled out quickly. When things don’t go my way the only person I put the blame on is me and he was getting alot of blaming that year.

I’m my biggest critic.

And then some.

My home was being torn down by my self destruction.

I’ve burned a lot of that summer out of my head. I don’t like to revisit some of the things that passed through my mind.

Struggle is a ruthless bitch.

Depression is her best friend.

Humility is painful but necessary.

I had reached my teetering point. They say you can find salvation when you hit this point.

I can’t tell you much about this day 6 years ago. I can’t recall much of the first 7 months of 2021 to be honest.

But I know this day very well.

I’m drawn to this day.

Someone inside of me had a long walk and talk with me. There’s no significance to this date other than someone else decided to start talking to me that day.

The guy that told me I’d stop drinking soon. Oh man we fought that day. I laughed my ass off that jive ass turkey.

“Stop drinking? Do you see where my mind is right now? I’m still drunk from the night before”

The other guy- “You’ll know when it’s time to stop”

“Doubtful. I no longer have any intention of slowing down anymore”

“Soon”

Me – “fuck off”

Other – “once you stop your life will change”

“Bet”

And then nothing.

Me- “yeah that’s what I thought”

That voice went away for awhile

But

He left a little light on in my head.

It pissed me off. I didn’t ask for this constant light to shine in the back of my mind.

Shine on you crazy diamond by Floyd is playing in my headphones.

The little lamp stayed in the back of my mind. It would make me think things like

Slow things down Chad

Be quiet

Let the quiet speak to you

So I said fuck it. And I shut up talking to myself for a bit.

My birthday rolled around and that little light said “this is the last one” and I took that to mean I’d probably be dead before my next one but it only meant it was my last drunken birthday celebration.

I know this day like it’s my birthday. No I didn’t wake up and blow out a candle. I didn’t look at my calendar yesterday and think “tomorrow is the big day”

I woke up, made some coffee and stretched my feet on my coffee table.

And

The light in my head -“good morning”

Me- “it was today wasn’t it.”

Light – *smiles

Me- “hey friend, I never had a chance to say thank you. So thanks and big hugs. Never thought I’d be able to do this”

Light – “told you”

I’d posted a quote on this day 6 years ago. I don’t remember posting it which is no surprise during that era but I read it for the first time in 6 years this morning after my conversation with my little friend.

Life has an amazing way of reconnecting when you’re healing.

“invent yourself and then reinvent yourself,
don’t swim in the same slough.

invent yourself and then reinvent yourself
and
stay out of the clutches of mediocrity.

invent yourself and then reinvent yourself,
change your tone and shape so often that they can
never
categorize you.

reinvigorate yourself and
accept what is
but only on the terms that you have invented
and reinvented.

be self-taught.

and reinvent your life because you must;
it is your life and
its history
and the present
belong only to
you.”

• Bukowski

I bought a cover up in my trip to Hawaii a few years ago and never wore it once. Yes I’m talking about the same kind of cover up them women folk wear to the beach to cover their bodies when transferring from hotel -> beach and back to the hotel. I took this thing with me on a camping trip a few weeks ago, showered in the woods and threw this over me to well, cover up after my shower. I sat under my awning on a hot spring afternoon and ended up wearing it up until bedtime. Ok that’s a lie. I slept in it. It’s just a multi striped, towel ish, toga ish blanket thing you throw over your head with a hoodie, draw string and pockets. The pockets have openings for easy access to everything under the cover up if you got an itch to scratch or god knows what I don’t kink shame but I’ve gotten attached to this thing. It’s amazing once you get over the Flintstone aesthetic. I feel like I’m hanging out in Bedrock with Fred and Barney. Speaking of hanging out I don’t recommend wearing this around strangers without some sort of support underneath. Especially in the humid months.

Use your imagination.

Regardless I highly recommend one. Suck up your shyness toward the ridiculous and get one. Just remember to close your legs when you sit down. I’m currently wearing mine.

I drove down the mountains after spending the night next to a creek in Brevard with house plants on my mind. I’m in my 50’s so for the last couple of years I’ve started cruising the plant section of the local home improvement stores with the intention of adding some organic, leafy love in my household. I got home after my camping trip and lasted an hour on the sofa before I left my home to start my quest for plants. I knew Costco had some on one of their aisles so I fought the afternoon madness and bought one of each. I chose a big palmy one, two skinny ones, a bushy one and a spiky one. As I was buying the plants I decided my rug at home wouldn’t match the plants so I bought another rug. A big shag one because I like soft things between my toes. Like synthetic grass without the surprise of bugs crawling up your feet. Im a child of the 70s I will always be drawn to shag

But

Fuck linoleum

And dark mustard colors

As I was rug shopping I realized our lighting situation was lacking. I hate overhead lights they’re distracting and blinding. This house we reside in has around 46 to each room. I could do brain surgery in any room in this house with the flick of 10 switches. I spend half my morning trying to line up all the light switches into the same position or pinpointing the location of a random light fixture that won’t turn off.

So I bought mood lighting. That’s where I am now in life. As I was buying multiple mood lighting lamps I found a needle point framed art with a sunrise on it and just had to have it. Along with some picture frames. After four hours of shopping, rearranging half the downstairs and drilling 48 holes in the walls to hang things including this amazing sewn picture of the sun, I decided that a really big hanging plant would tie the entire room together. I left for a nursery down the road and bought a big leafy one. Drilled a hanger on the wall and hung her up.

When I finished up my side quests I sat on my sofa with a big fat smile on my face for the rest of the evening admiring the new aesthetics of my living room.

I am my mother’s child. We used to do this in the summer months at our home in Piedmont. My mom would get up one morning and say “Hey Pumpkin, we are going to move a bedroom into the living room. And I’d be like “um ok” and away we’d go.

And it would look good. My stepfather would come home after long hauling to California and back and trip over the newly repositioned bed 3 feet from the front door when he’d get home.

I sat in my living room enjoying my mood lighting, the shadows of my newly acquired plants and I stared at the all the photos I’d just hung of our daughter.

Big

Fat

Smile

Sunday, I sat all day in a Brevard creek. I ate a burger with fries from a local food truck and dozed off under my awning in Pisgah while it drizzled.

Sunday I rested

Monday I created

Balance

I was reading an old memory of mine on FB this morning from 2019. A raucous day of my kitchen crashing and burning at Habitap. 45 minute ticket times, crisis management and mental bruises. Somedays I feel like I was in a long lucid dream of chaos.

It’s 6:38am, I’m sitting on my sofa with crooked smile on my face. I have no doubt after that day at Habitap I tied one on like there’s no tomorrow. I don’t even keep up with my non drunken odometer anymore. It doesn’t define me.

But

It’s been a long while.

I wonder if I can wear my cover up flinstone onesie at work today?

Have you ever sat still with your eyes closed and visualized the ultimate you? Do you know what I mean? Creating your ideal self into the final boss in your life. You 2.0 or maybe 3.0, it’s your creation to be whatever you like.

It’s your world hombre

The best of you may be a better dresser

A better athlete

A better career or financially stable or free

Maybe your ideal you is just you being free from something you can’t do without. Or someone

Maybe you’re already there but you feel the need to yearn for something new each time you level up. Maybe that’s the ideal you? The person who no longer yearns.

We all are reaching for something just out of touch. Maybe not all the time but we all have that dangling carrot in our peripheral. For some it’s bigger than it is for others.

In short, we want to be that person that can reach the carrot.

Me? I’m a little on the opposite side. I’ve been trying to cut the carrot out of my sight. I’m not ignoring the existence of this dangling root veggie 🥕 I know it’s there it’s been blocking a clear horizon my entire adult life. Like a spec on the lens of your eyeglasses.

Weird metaphor using the carrot. The whole purpose of the dangling veg is to keep you moving forward without ever tasting the reward right in front of you. Like an ass with blinders on, we focus on that carrot on step in front of the other.

For years I thought my ultimate self was the one who would catch that carrot.

I was trying to speed up the ass to catch the elusive carrot.

But

The carrot cannot be caught.

Its like trying to touch the horizon

Hugging the wind

Peeing while sneezing

It’s symbolism of chase. It’s not fleeing from you. It stays just close enough to taunt. Poke you when you aren’t looking. Itching the small of your back.

Respectfully

Fuck

That

Carrot

Respectfully of course. I needed to follow that carrot to realize that I was the one who put it there in the first place.

“Hey slick, why did you put that little dangler of a veggie on a string and hang it just out of reach?”

“I needed a compass of direction for my future”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Wherever the carrot directs me”

“All the carrot is doing is blocking your view”

It took me 50 years to clip that string.

*carrot falls to the ground

*horizon comes into focus

And I just sat still as tears filled my eyes

That’s when I saw my ultimate self.

The person I want to be.

The person I’m meant to be.

He’s not dressed in gold. He’s not 2% body fat, living in a mansion, 100,000 media followers or any of that impressed upon collectives

He’s smiling

He’s filled with enlightened discernment

Coherence

He moves slower with deliberation

Less distortion

Inner peace

His carrot is a sunrise. Not because it’s out of reach. He’s not reaching anymore, just witnessing.

In the present. Clarity

When I saw that person for the first time that’s when my reckoning ended and a new life began.

Several years of quiet assimilation to reach that point. It’s not a snap of the fingers it’s a devotion of time and humility.

That person has existed my entire life. I had to cut the carrot down to find him.

Now he’s waving at me.

Gotta go say hi.

Peace

I’m not writing a cookbook. Gotta be honest I probably never will write one even though my daughter’s purchase of a notebook for me to write down my recipes is what encouraged me to start writing. I rarely follow recipes anymore at this point in my career I can wing just about anything I’m cooking unless it’s baking which I try to avoid.

Not offering some of my favorite recipe cards although I’ll share any recipe I have with anyone I don’t gate keep anything knowledge should be shared with others.

This could still be considered a cookbook but it’s more about how we are made. Not referencing the activities from our parents that brought us into our existence I think we can all agree it’s something we don’t want to think about.

How we were made into the mold that fits us now. Our embodiment of bloodlines, trauma, environment, childhood memories that created what sits on our plate. Our own life recipe or dish.

Our life seasonings

Procedures

Measurements

Restrictions

Instructions

All of our recipes are unique in their own way. Some of us the recipe can be simple while others are complex, exact measurements. Volatile compounds that must be added just at the right time or the dish is ruined in our minds.

Genetics and childhood build the mold. Genetics are the first steps towards your recipe card build. Basic ingredients of your bloodline. It may impact the size of your dish or the personality/theme of your desired product. It may be cultural or ethnic that starts the process of creating your dish. Added spices to uphold the tradition and add specific look or texture. Some dishes demand a specific aesthetic that brings out an important flavor or element. A hand me down recipe that’s been kept in the family.

Childhood trauma and experiences extend into the procedures of how the dish is prepared. Some dishes may be easier to prep for while others need a little more preparation and attention. Some of us can braise in a sous vide and be left alone for hours while others are poached for a brief time and delicately place onto a spot to rest. Our childhood can toughen us up or it can make us tender. Some of us have to stew a little longer before we are ready.

You may be able to heat quickly in a boiling pot and come out fine. Same procedures different temperatures.

Some of us have to whipped into a new shape or substance while others only need spreading. Encouraging

We are newer dishes, figuring out when we are supposed to be served, what table we belong, the china we sit upon. Some it may be fine while others are served on paper plates.

Our recipes all evolve over time. We may have started off as a box of dried macaroni and moved up to a béchamel with hand cut pasta. Some prefer to stay with the box. Simplicity and consistency. It’s just a preference.

As we progress with our recipes over time we start developing a palate for new flavors and spices. This is where we tend to experiment and hone the dish or perhaps change it completely. Some may want an accompaniment. Their dish is missing something. An added necessity that finally completes the dish. Two peas in a pod. You may have been a little salty and needed some sweetness for that savory flavor you’ve been trying to achieve and you found it. You may have traveled abroad to implement a little more culturally relevant taste. You may have changed your dietary habits and want to completely change your diet and started over with a new dish and approach.

Some of us get lost for a bit and just order take out. Life moved a little too fast to enjoy cooking. Your recipes are forgotten for a while. You let someone else prepare your dish and you start to lose some flavor, zest and consistency. You no longer take the time to prep. You skip important ingredients and create shortcuts, your dish becomes stagnant or bland and so have your tastebuds.

You lose the passion to cook for a little bit. Some of us may lose that important accompaniment that was vital to our plate. Or we no longer have side dishes to keep the table warm. Some start to get too salty but we’ve been cooking the same dish for so long we stopped taking the time to taste it before it’s served.

Over time, many of us forget to taste the dish before sending it through the pass. We become so focused on preparing a life that we forget to experience it. Life loses its zest when we stop pausing long enough to taste what we’ve made.

I speak from first hand experience.

I’ve spent the last few years working on my old dish. Ironically after tossing all my old recipes out the window.

Man I was salty and tough to the bone. Burnt on the edges while still raw on the inside. Added a new flavor profile recently and changed quite a few procedures.

My dish got better when I slowed down to learn how to taste again.