What a long, strange trip it’s been. I write those Grateful Dead lyrics often, because my phone just offered to insert them for me.

I’m a thrice divorced disabled veteran with a thrice failed writing career…who has a loving wife, awesome family, and the time to chase 52 years of dreams.

Good/bad, yin/yang, rollercoaster shite. Never boring, though. 

I have officially gone one year without a soda or carbonated drink. Today, for my birthday, I allowed myself a soda with lunch. Cherry Coke. I let my blog readers pick for me.

It was disgusting. Now, I feel as though I’ve been envenomated. This is how I imagine chemotherapy feels, just watered down exponentially.

Some drink nothing but sodas and energy drinks, and I was one of them. We become addicted to the sweetness and other-worldly colors as children, and the largest corporations practically give them to us for the remainder of our lives. We’re slaves to them all as we self-medicate, 8oz at a time, with what I imagine Fabuloso tastes like minus the instant death. Slow motion, self administered euthanasia is just the peach, isn’t it?

No more. I’m still going to die one day, I’ll just be able to touch my toes when I do.

Preach truths, toke jokes, and shoplift Amazon.

Now that the sugar rush is over, my body and mind are settling into some type of shallow depression.

Stop drinking the Kool-Aid, people. Literally!