A Formal, Short, Written Statement of Purpose

I'm not sure if you can refer to the direction you want to take a blog as a mission statement. I always thought that "blogging" was a kind of vapid medium; something for Americans with too much time on their hands or too many hormones in their head or too many drugs in their system. It seems now that I've fallen into all of those categories, so the next step is obviously to start writing on them internets about the extra time I've got, what the hormones make me do, how the drugs and alcohol affect me. I'm not Jessica Cutler, Perez Hilton, or Texts From Last Night. I'm twenty-five, I don't have a college degree, I have a very part-time job. Regardless, I'm a Washington DC native with a passion for writing, music, film and sports that I'd like to exercise, as well as a rather large appetite for booze, recreational drugs, good food and after-hours absurdity. I hope that I can write about what I love and the people I spend time with and the things I get myself into, and do it honestly and with grit and humor, perhaps with love and honor and pride and pity and compassion and sacrifice. And I hope that you guys will read it. 

Enjoy.

Scrambled Eggs and Whiskey

Scrambled eggs and whiskey

in the false-dawn light. Chicago,

a sweet town, bleak, God knows,

but sweet. Sometimes. And

weren't we fine tonight?

When Hank set up that limping

treble roll behind me

my horn just growled and I

thought my heart would burst.

And Brad M. pressing with the

soft stick and Joe-Anne

singing low. Here we are now

in the White Tower, leaning

on one another, too tired

to go home. But don't say a word,

don't tell a soul, they wouldn't

understand, they couldn't, never

in a million years, how fine,

how magnificent we were

in that old club tonight.

--Hayden Carruth