Bearded Gang

I talk about downloads on here quite a bit. If you read my journaling then you know I enjoy a good metaphor. It helps me understand and explain what goes around in my head.

Downloads for me are spikes in my intuition that don’t go away or they integrate into my life gradually as a new naturally formed habit or interest.

Example: after what I refer to as my little awakening my mind went head first into

Vibrations

Resonance

Carl Jung

Hermetics

Gnostics

Symbols

Esotericism

The kybalion

Rumi poetry

Literally in less than a week.

This was a big one. The biggest one. My brain at the time didn’t have the right amount of storage for this download and I spent six months trying to find a “cloud” to put some of this info aside for later. I was a hot mess. It’s a fun ride but I’m glad it leveled out. It was affecting my work and mental health. I needed a thousand answers to a thousand questions and I wanted them immediately.

The brain, doing what it does best, filtered it into smaller compartments until I’m ready to take to refocus.

“Chad you done lost your damn mind.”

I know right?

This big download changed my horizon for life.

And I’m ok with that.

Other downloads I’ve received over the last year or two are more intimate or little bullet points of behavior and or habits that just drop from me. I’ll wake up one morning and my brain will relay to me that “we are no longer doing this” and I’ll just be like.. ok big guy whatever you say.

Or little downloads of awareness of loops and behavioral patterns. These can be annoying for me because I get caught up and become hyper aware of these repetitive behaviors which causes me to try not to overthink which in return causes me to overthink.

It’s a vicious cycle.

I get some in the mountains when I’m driving back from a not so fun camping trip. It’s not all rainbows and sunshine I do get some frustrating events that keep me on edge.

It happens.

But

On some drives home I can sense the download of the experience. I can literally feel the “growth” from that experience. A moment of gratitude and clarity in the storm. The ability to recognize this was/is also a download.

Downloads for new downloads

I’ll get enlightened downloads that come out of nowhere that I really appreciate. Driving home from work after a complete shit day one day recently my mind whispered “when you go home after a bad day you take it home with you and release it to the ones you love”

I drove home slower that day. I sat in my truck for a moment and let that sink in.

It’s changed my drive home ever since. It also makes me take a deep breath before I walk into my home. I’m not holding in my emotions. I’m recognizing and observing them as to what they are. It’s negative energy that I allow to flow out of my window on the way home.

Acknowledging it

Making peace with it

Continue on home

My downloads will encourage to seek out information on new content. Just recently I got slapped in the head with “what do you about Sanskrit? Not that much? Grab a pen and a seat”

Me -“wha?”

“Yeah and chakras too. Sure you’ve been reading a little on it but now we are gonna buckle down”

Me – “but the new House of Dragons is on..”

“No dragons tonight Chad we are singing Chakra Khan this week”

That was bad.

Not sorry though

My chakras study began this morning at 4:30. Sometimes downloads don’t care about caffeine.

Some downloads require shedding some memory storage for a new upgrade. Currently what I’m going through now. This one was a big fat one too. Not as big as the one on my little island or maybe so but now I’m accustomed.

Aware

“Chad you done lost your damn mind”

Indeed and thank goodness.

I’ve got my headphones on hemi-sync

This one poked me in the ribs and said some not so nice things about me.

To me

Not in a critical way. It wasn’t a trail marker they don’t poke.

We had a long talk. It was a good one. I’ve been absorbing since. Yesterday I randomly deleted about 100 plus songs off my phone. I wrote recently that my music tastes have gone wonky. Take that as you like. I’m shedding parts of me that were attached to those songs if that makes sense, it does to me. New “old” songs are coming into my life playlist.

Downloaded attachments

I don’t go into details about my downloads until they are completed. Some start and go away they don’t fit. This one is making me make room for it.

It’s get uncomfortable. I told my wife (who knows immediately when I’m going through one even though I don’t tell her sometimes) “I feel like I’m sitting two inches outside of myself”

Maybe observing the change

Or

Like I’m trying to color in the lines of myself but I keep messing up.

I’m Mid download because it’s a big one. I’ve got a big trip coming up that’s going to test the living shit out of me. I’ve been planning it for over a year. My mind told me when I should do it (another download). Maybe it will reveal some parts unknown.

Integration

It’s not a bad thing. I’m just very

Very

Uncomfortable.

Maybe I have lost my damn mind.

Maybe I’m supposed to.

Department of agriculture popped in to say hello at the deli yesterday. The bureau formerly known as DHEC. I can’t tell you how many inspections I’ve been a part of more than most I’d say. I’ve found over the years that it’s not that hard to keep that department happy by just keeping shit clean, writing down every thing they suggest and a lot of head nodding. My mood was stiff with her yesterday because I needed to release my mind on that $800 fine I received from a labeling mishap and well, she’s the only one I’m going to see face to face. The convo was short and calm. I in no way tried to make her feel uncomfortable or intimidated. I had a few things I needed to say and I said them. The conversation was a good one. We both smiled at the end of it and she went about her inspection. It allowed my associate Barry time to label any missed items in his cooler that caused the infraction in the first place.

Strategy

We scored a 99. I’ve never been a part of a B grade and if I ever am I’ll retire.

But

I understand why some may receive a B and still be a good establishment. There are hundreds of little things that you can ball drop in these situations all the while having a clean kitchen.

What that means is a B doesn’t always mean dirty or rats are running around the dining room. I worked in a restaurant with that had an acre of woods torn down to build a Rite Aid and every field mouse in that area decided to go condo in my steakhouse. I was sweeping mice in the middle of dinner rush with a hotel dust pan. I don’t knock places with a B unless it’s a re-inspection then yes, I’m going to raise my eyebrows at you. I still won’t say anything online if it’s local.

If you aren’t familiar with the scoring system of the Department of agriculture it’s

A – 88-100

B – 78- 87

C- 77 – below

I run a deli with one employee. I don’t deal with hoods, cooking temps, fryers, grease, big broken dishwashers etc. Oh I did all of this shit on purpose mind you. An A is the standard for me. I was programmed to be this way from the corporate steakhouse days of yore. To this day if an inspector walks in my hair stands on my neck. I go fight or flight immediately. I don’t like dealing with them and I don’t care what any restaurant owner may say or think but I know they get the same feeling.

Imagine going to work every day not knowing when a pop quiz is going to walk in the door unannounced and test and grade you and all your employees. It’s the “all your employees” that scared the shit out of me because for every handful of great staff you have you still have that one mouth breather that eats paste in his 30s.

The one that will stick his finger in the sauce to taste it in front of the inspector

Someone will stick a pint glass in the ice for beverage service

Someone will start pounding chicken pre brunch at their station cooler. Man that one still pisses me off.

Someone will slap a fly on the wall with their chef knife and then wipe it off with their apron

Your opening key won’t use the inspection check off sheet you specifically made for them and didn’t see the prime rib left overnight in the alto shaam

These are not fictional scenarios unfortunately I’ve dealt with all of this. I’ve hovered over some 88 scores where my hands were shaking. I’ve been a random house fly landing on a 9th pan of chives away from a B. I’ve been belittled by inspectors with Napoleon syndrome and had others smile and tell me “I’m giving you a freebee today”

I could’ve had a B a couple of times.

But

I didn’t

Most of the public doesn’t get the demerits restaurants can receive.

Poor lighting or just a burned out bulb in the cooler

A cutting board that’s been scored on too many times

A chub of salami wrapped but no label

A thermometer with a dead battery or the one you store in your cooler got knocked out during the rush

That aforementioned fly on the chives. It’s summer in the south, flies are hot too. Theres no effective defense system to keep flies from coming in your restaurant. You can’t stick a fly fan on the front entrance, blowing everyone’s wigs off as they enter your store.

Small hole in the frp

If you share a dumpster with another restaurant you’re responsible for their shit too. I had a couple of neighbors along side of me for years that couldn’t hit a rim with their garbage. Bad enough that I swept up their garbage and emptied it on their front door step. They had cameras. It was a good conversation.

Cracked tile on the floor

Leaky faucet

Dusty water heater

Dusty vent over work station

Too much of a gap in the kitchen swinging door

Drink with a lid on the prep table

Drink without a lid under the prep table

Employee scratching their nose and forgetting to wash their hands

Dried raspberry behind the pantry cooler

Gasket seal on cooler door with some crumbs in between the edges. Or gasket has a tiny rip

Gloves? I get tired of people screaming “he ain’t wearing gloves!” Latex and vinyl doesn’t kill germs yall. Hot water and soap. Gloves are just another dirty layer for hands. Whatever helps you sleep at night I suppose.

It’s not that hard to get a B and it’s not that easy to maintain an A. Especially nowadays with having to hire on the spot, loose training and short staffing.

It’s not all cockroaches and raw chicken next to veggies. It’s not always vermin running around, in fact it rarely is.

I’m not a fan of these Facebook pages that post all of these grades online.

“It’s for awareness”.

Nah, your life is lacking attention and this is your way of trying to be relevant. It’s that or you’re just an asshat snitch. Your choice.

Of course I’m biased

I really don’t like those pages.

Any restaurant at any given time can find a little cockroach making its way around. It’s why you pay for pest control. That doesn’t mean you have to work your way around them to move about the kitchen. I’m referring to one or two not a nest under the deep fryer you haven’t cleaned in months.

I get it. There are a handful of restaurants I absolutely won’t eat in. I won’t bring it up in conversation but if you tell me that you’re taking your family there for dinner I’m going to say something. Unless you’re trying to lose some weight.

I told my employee Barry yesterday “if we ever get a B I’ll lock the doors myself.”

C? Yeah you get what you deserve on that one. Facebook page and all.

I do my best not to rant on those pages. I shake my head and move on. If it weren’t for my already well established notoriety online I’d be tempted but I’m trying to dissolve that guy for good. This is why you haven’t seen a Cheesecake Factory comment on Greenville foodies in two years.

All I’m saying is take a closer look at the inspections before you harshly judge. You already know the local media will use loud words to sensationalize it. They get it from their big brother media.

You know I’m going to find a way to bash the news outlets.

Any way I’m not getting fined $800 this time around. I can assure you’d hear all about it if I did.

Ya damn treaders

Cheers to no cockroaches and salmonella.

I don’t have the taste in my heart for hate anymore. I used to love to hate. I’d hate my competitors, hate some people who’d disrespect me even hated my neighbor. It just steamed away yall.

Extinguished. I’m not sure when it happened. I had someone use the word hate in front of me the other day, like resounding and multiple times and I physically winced. I could feel its sharp edge poking into my skin enough to where I stepped back. It was a customer talking to her friend at the counter. She seemed to be having a bad day and wanted to shed it onto others. I’ve been there bro. Boy have I.

I’ve used that word a lot. In the past it was my mantra. If you were living a better life than me I hated it. I worked just as hard as you why did you benefit and I didn’t? You should suffer like I did.

Hate

Bitterness

Anger

Shields of deflection away from myself.

Anytime that word “hate” pops up I try to train my mind to find a lesser word for it.

That’s all.

Words carry energy. Choose them like you would an oration of intentions. Think of the words you use all the time. I feel like they build you into who you are.

That’s all.

Speaking of suffering I’ve begun to look back on mine with a sense of accomplishment and relief. I’m not a masochist I’m actually a lot softer and sensitive than I try to make myself out to be in person or online.

But

When it comes to suffering I’ve kicked some ass. I’ve beaten some tough odds in my life. I may have bitched and griped the whole fucking way

But

In the end I overcame. Or at least tied

Suffering gives you thick skin. The big deals to some are little things to you. The common things people complain about don’t phase you. People bitch about the rain when you’ve walked through hurricanes. No I’m not building an inspirational poster here with Johnny Depp standing on a beach. This is my observational view. If there’s one thing about working in the service industry it’s when the world seems to be on fire you use it to light your cigarette.

Service industry is almost out of my veins. I always thought I’d always remain a lifer

But

It’s fading. Like an old roadside cafe sign from the 70s.

Chipped, broken, eroded from the constant sand blowing gusts of semis and vehicles driving by with no notice or mention of the dilapidated building underneath.

But in a good way. I’ve been weathered, seasoned, scattered, smothered and covered in the industry.

It’s almost entirely gone.

Gone are the feelings I get when I walk into these places. The anxiety. I hear the tickets printing, I watch the fryer baskets being shook like wet dogs over the fryer when the fries are pulled out of the grease.

I hear the hoods humming

The expo barking, the bartenders gossiping about the bar regular at the end.

I’ve finally managed to release.

A restaurant PTSD

I don’t rush to make coffee like I used to. My restaurant blood always made me rush. If I eat at work I turn everything off in my mind. I put my phone down, I make an actual plate of food and I go sit down.

I’ve eaten over so many trash cans in my lifetime

I always disliked that (see what I didn’t use there?)

Practice

Devotion

I used to avoid that word. I felt like a slave to some system when I used it.

Odd

Used to

It’s a solid word. I use it often now

I’ve almost erased my restaurant brain. Even at work my deli, essentially a restaurant, I move around more methodically. Deliberately choosing my speed. I’ve cut back on my “yeah I can fit you in”. I have a mental limit for my schedule daily.

“I’m good for this much today” anything else? Gotta wait until tomorrow. Last week I had zero boxes for three days. That usually causes me to move things around the deli. “Shake some shit up” as I refer to it. I grabbed a stool and placed it behind my counter and sat down.

Rested

I stopped selling tickets to the show a while back.

I’m on my first week of another rewiring of sorts. I used to look back on these with a little anxiousness of “can I do it?” Now it’s acceptance.

As I’ve said about suffering, it brings a certain reliability to life. Diligence to a duty.

I used to hate suffering.

I used to hate a lot of things.

Used to

The little light in my head that chats with me.

I don’t have a mild case of schizophrenia. Or I at least haven’t been diagnosed with it.

Awareness – the state of knowing, perceiving, or being cognizant of a situation, event, or concept

My little awakening in Hunting Island supercharged it. It’s taken a little while to sit with it. For about 6 months I thought it was spiritual psychosis. I wasn’t grounded yet I was running in circles trying to take in all the woo woo that can come with it.

Some friends ask me about it and it starts off well but when religion starts to take the stage of the conversation then it usually stops and the discussion changes. I’m not here to enforce anything or to change minds. It’s not my business. I’m just offering awareness. Should you want to talk about it.

Ive got a friend I haven’t seen over a year. We were texting yesterday and he was looking at one of my videos on IG and he remarked about my peace.

Me- “man we have a lot to talk about. In person.. I don’t want you leaving me on read”

I rarely talk about my awakening. Even to my wife. It even makes her uncomfortable. I get it completely had you thrown this shit at me 6 years ago I would’ve walked away from you.

Life’s a trip

I have no doubt the psilocybin I did the previous night on that island permanently changed the wiring in my brain. Not in an insane or negative way. Quite the opposite actually.

It woke me up.

I mentioned a light that came on in my head that told me I was going to stop drinking. That’s awareness, my intuition

my consciousness.

My consciousness broke through my normal thinking process and patterns and whispered to me “your drinking days are over soon”

The one I laughed at.

I’m not sitting on the sofa having a conversation with another Chad glowing with sparkles and halos over his head.

My belief, my view, my own personal conviction is that we are all consciousness experiencing itself. I believe we are energy in a meat suit form of matter. A walking WiFi signal for consciousness.

Or what I refer to as my trail markers.

We are all connected. You, me, my cat sitting next to me, the spider I let sit beside me in camp last night, my coffee cup, throw rug on my lap you get the point.

That’s about it for now kids. I’ll throw a little crumb out and move on. You ever want to pick my brain on this subject grab a coffee and let’s chat. I’m just beginning to grasp it, to understand.

My awareness came to me and shook me up for a future download. I write in metaphors. I’ve found it makes it easier to understand things and for me to explain things. The Bible is extremely metaphorical by the way. Sorry brief tangent.

The light in my head.

Back to that guy.

You ever get intuitive thoughts that get stuck in your head? Bad feeling or good? Stomach might get involved too because it’s the soil to your brain.

Think about that over your next Big Mac.

You ever ask yourself who that is talking to you inside your head all the time? Is it you? Are you sure? Maybe it’s a jumbled composition of experiences, trauma and perceptions.

I’m all over the place at the moment because I’m circling the subject the best way I know how so I don’t sound woo woo. I’m trying to explain in a grounded but at the same time a little soulful magic because I’m devoted to this theory if you want to call it that. Sometimes when you’re quiet or still your “WiFi” may pick up new signals or messages. That’s what I refer to as downloads. New information. You may receive it while reading a book or just watching a commercial. Maybe a meaningful conversation with a friend. Your brain unlocks or clicks on a story, vibe, word, song, smell or experience. Me? I was sitting on the sofa feeling quite sorry for myself. I guess my WiFi got bored and sought at another signal and picked this thought up out of the monad as some call it. There was no physical voice saying “your drinking days will come to an end soon”

It was an awareness, a moment of energy entering my mind. It whispered, smiled calmly and sat way back in my mind after introducing its proclamation. I picked up a signal that was meant for little ole me whether I wanted it or not. Of course I wanted it. I just didn’t believe it.

It gave me the feeling of sobriety before I experienced it. It gave me thoughts of what my life would be without the vodka. It didn’t force a thing. Just a quiet ping

ping

ping

Until it became a low flowing light of awareness in my mind. Again this is metaphorical but barely.

The awareness awakens you. The signal of thoughts guide you into the direction you should proceed.

Should you listen

Should you choose this mission.

*this message will self destruct in 5 seconds..

^That’s how I feel what happens when you ignore your instincts.

This one was the same way. “Hey Chad just sit and listen for a while. It’ll get easier the more you listen. That’s all I did was listen, for four or five months until it became a form of action and no longer a thought.

A form of guidance because I really needed it and really wanted it.

All I did was listen because I had nowhere else to go. As I said not too long ago salvation can arrived when you stop fighting yourself.

I didn’t tell anyone about that

Download

Awareness

Signal

Connection

Only because I wasn’t aware what it was yet. Had I said in July of 2021 “hey I’m gonna put the bottle down at the end of the year” I would’ve gotten some weird looks. It may have never happened if I announced it.

Also I was never given a date or time. I woke up January 1, 2022 and told the guy in the mirror I wasn’t drinking anymore. That person in the mirror became the new Chad talking to an old version of me. I’ve spent years collapsing that man. It wasn’t an exclamation of –

“today is the day!”

It was awareness.

I waited 60 days to announce my sobriety ride. I had to be sure this was the one.

And it was

It’s on my mind heavy at the moment I’ve wrote about my little light in my head as I refer to it on here on several occasions even mentioning it’s anniversary of when I became aware of it or when it made me aware I should say. It spoke to me last week in a rather loud tone as I was sitting on my sofa at home. I’d had a brief conversation with myself in the shower post work. Some old familiar stuff that I still reckon with from time to time. Nothing detrimental I was letting my inner dialogue run its mouth for a bit.

The light sparked for a moment, not angrily but it popped, like a log in the fire when a pocket of air or moisture is released.

It got my attention again.

A signal of code

Intuition

Stomach soil

Connection

Download

Big throbbing trail marker

“It’s time to step it up Chad”

No that’s not exactly what it said again metaphors

But

I got its intended intention.

It was louder than the last. The last was a whisper this one was a poke in the ribs.

We had a chat. I sat and listened and accepted the download

This mission will not self destruct. Quite the opposite actually.

What’s the mission Chad? Well I can’t speak it into existence I have to experience it to understand it.

That’s where we are. I had a long conversation with myself over a campfire all weekend. Steadying the ship to find its course. Before its journey.

Fucking metaphors man

It’s my responsibility to myself to acknowledge and proceed. And here we go.

Peace

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