Prefarce 1
Chances are you've heard a story like this before. Maybe not exactly.
Born into the working class of Milwaukee, on my fifth birthday I have reached a conclusion: I am so not working class. I am a Rock Star. Not like Jeff in accounting who gets you a manual check cut on a Wednesday and you're all, "Thanks, Jeff. You're a rock star!" No, he's not.
I hate to burst your bubble, Jeff, but you are not a Rock Star. Your co-workers call you that to make you feel better about your sad, sad existence and get you to fulfill their requests so they can take credit in meetings with the bosses that you don't attend. Me—I am a guitar playing, hip-swaying, groupie-laying, longhaired golden god Rock Star. Got it—Jeff? And this was when being a Rock Star was a thing.
And I get really, really close.
Twenty-four years later, poised at that moment where everything—every thought, every plan, every action, and every breath I'd directed at one inescapable conclusion has come together. Life's promise will not be denied. There was the 'me' that existed on the 'before' side of this moment and the 'me' that exists on the 'after' side, forever changed.
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A Year Of Living Stupidly
HumorWhat do you do when you're twenty-nine and you forgot to light the world on fire? On the verge of superstardom, a Hollywood singer loses everything and struggles to find meaning in life on the other side of the velvet rope. He's always been a rock...
