Inaugural Post:

My Grandfather played the trumpet in Elvis's backup band. I don't think most people archived any details about Wallace Zwibelman, but that dude gave me most of my genes so here-goes-nothing. He served in the Korean War. Died of a heart attack when I was an infant (man could eat 10 hot dogs in one sitting). It took me until the age of 20 to finally hear his voice. He sounded like me.

Every time my grandmother talks to me over the phone, in person, whatever--- she always goes "You're the boy Zwibelman". It's a crude way of saying, "you serve a purpose that hopefully won't suck because I trust you and the blood that flows through your veins". Truth is, my name means Onion-man. I vend onions. What does Austin mean? Oh yeah, that I'm descended from an Algerian Saint with a huge boner for beginning stuff with "On the" (Know I don't speak Latin like he did, but trust me, the event went down like a fucking hailstorm).

You'll witness personal growth, self-degradation, doubt, pride, and every other rainbow emotion human beings can feel during moments of getting carried away. Just tune in here until I get a publisher to sign me to write a novel.

For now, this sort of is my novel. My great "Why the fuck is he still wasting his time posting shit on the internet" opus about love, loss, hatred, and emergence from the ashes of a dead phoenix that wasted their time masturbating without spending a goddamn second realizing rebirth was going to hurt.

Tell me I weaponize language. Tell me none of that made sense. That's a trashy thing to do and I resent anybody who doesn't want to follow me up this trail of tears. It's going to be a long walk, but if we do the impossible once, we re-write the dictionary.

So let's fuck. Explore. Kill the beast that bore us and devour everything in sight. Hug, hold, protect the miracles of reality and tell the miracles of lore they can drown in sulfuric acid.

I'm done being polite. Now let's write about how shit actually works and never fall victims to mythical cultures again. That's yesterday's gambit. Here's now--- fuck the law, every single false assumption about the universe, and tides of "unstoppable" change. I'm going to make my Grandfather proud and teach you guys who actually runs this store. It's me, and we vend joy.

Great first post, Austin. A little grandiose for new readers, but I think it'll do the trick.