05/06/16

Adding bourbon to margarita mix isn't a good idea. 

The worst part about being here is the downtime. There is nothing here. How did I do it as a kid? I woke up every day of my life for over eighteen years and looked out onto the town of Crayton only to do something that in some way involved the town of Crayton.

You tend to try alcohol for the first time pretty young around here.

Sure, we did little vacations up to Canada, over to Duluth or Lutsen or Grand Marais. Once, maybe twice a year we would do a day trip down to the Twin Cities to see a Twins, or eventually Saints, game. But the vast majority of the time, at least 98% of my life was in Crayton. 

I needed to take out my phone to figure that meant that I woke up approximately 6,500 times and then spent my day somewhere within the immediate vicinity of a place with less than 700 people. 

Sure, as a kid you go ride your bike, play in the woods, learn the intricacies of Ding Dong Ditch. Then you start to grow up and things get a little more risque to include the ideas of making out, sneaking a beer, smoking. 

But then you get older and a lot of us stayed around and kept up the same routine as our parents. Got jobs in or around Crayton. 

How?

I left. Ran, whatever. But looking back on myself as a kid, times when I know that I was an insufferable little pest complaining about being bored and that there was nothing to do only to grow up and look back on that little kid and say "Yeah, you're right. And cleaning your room doesn't count as something to do. It's just something parents say."

I could leave. I know that. I could drive back to Atlanta, sign a new lease on the apartment, get a job, maybe in a kitchen. I could do that. But I came here to get a job done. 

On top of that, I know there are people who read this who have questions, wonder what is going on with me, have even sent emails to smalltownhorrorpodcast@gmail.com with things to say (which I appreciate, it helps pass the time). 

There are answers that I am here to get, answers that I feel closer to know than ever. But at the same time, that search is long and drawn out and it creates more questions than it answers. And it's frustrating. 

So I sit in the room and watch TV. Sometimes I go out to the bar. I don't really talk to anyone, but it's good to at least be around people. It feels safe. Anything feels safer than Dad's house anyway. 

I think I might take a trip up to Grand Marais for a few days while I wait for my friend Tim to get back to me. He's checking on the audio I sent from that night in Dad's house. Hopefully he gets back to me soon. 

Maybe it was just the furnace trying to turn on or something. I'm not used to the noises here yet. But that sound. I know I heard something. I know other people heard it by your responses too. 

I need to go drink some more water. It's a nice day. Maybe I'll go for a walk.

Thanks for listening.