What’s the nightlife like 

in the city that you moved to?

The place you said you had to get away for.

You said you gotta get out somehow

anyway..

Because now if you stay here

this town,  

Its gonna swallow you whole.

Swallow your soul

Swallow you whole now.

Maybe in another life

we can try to make things right

give it another try,

but for now,

its never going to happen

So you drove all night,

you were daring the sun to come up

you drove all night.

Whats the nightlife like

in the city that you moved to,

this place you said you had to get….

away for.

I could just

strike a conversation, 

But I’d rather strike a match,

pull the poison to my lungs,

relax, and I hold my breath,

close my eyes, lift my chin,

hands behind my head,

I Breathe you out.

And it was good to see you anyway,

petty jokes and half smiles,

at least thats what I want to say,

we know its been a while.

shelf lives aside, 

we all look better at night.

And it seems we are,

begging for the dark cloud 

that hangs over head,

when we’re awake at 630

but can’t leave the bed.

pull the covers to your chin

eyes open, now show me a smile.

And it was good to see you anyway,

petty jokes and half smiles,

at least thats what I want to say,

we know its been a while.

shelf lives aside, 

we all look better at night.

After close to 7 years of working on this project, It is complete.   

I started writing the songs to the whiskey valentine when i was 20.  In the Past 7 years i have probably written 40 or so songs that i’ve never recorded, or recorded and didn’t like, or wrote, fell asleep and woke up forgetting how to play them. In August I sat down and started writing the short stories that would accompany these songs.   After it was all said and done, I kept 5 originals. Claws Up, Kill Devil Hills, The Whiskey Valentine, You’re My Rock N Roll, and 9th and Pine.  I also put 2 covers on the EP just because they are 2 of my favorite songs ever written and I wanted to put my own sound on them.

you can download the whole EP here

http://tinyurl.com/whiskeyvalentine

or stream here

http://www.purevolume.com/thewhiskeyvalentine

I hope you enjoy the songs and stories.

It was bound to happen at some point.  The numbness has wore off.  The “I don’t give a fuck” stage has ceased to exist, and now I have to think about her. 

Last night I worked until the early hours of this morning.  When you bartend,you are both the party and the sad clown.  You are enabling the ugly to fuck, the timid to quit taking shit, the untimely friendly ballbreaking to lead to the fistfight, and ultimately for everyone to have the potential of going up with someone.  When the night is over there is only one thing left to do, go home and have a drink, most of the time by yourself.  I don’t mind this a bit.  It is what I wanted after all. I heard through the grapevine that she has since moved on.  I can’t be happier for her.  She has no flaws, she is in fact, perfect.  I just can’t handle perfection.

When my alarm clock sounded this morning it was like death himself whispered in my ear.  I guess I overdid it last night.  Either that, or I am dehydrated.  Either way.  I turned the TV on  and took a couple of pulls from the bottle beside my bed for good measure.  I suited up and headed back to the bar to clean up and get ready to start the day. 

The whole drive there I caught myself going through these stupid little scenarios in my head of what I would say or do if I were to run into her romantic comedy style.  I won’t lie, it brightened up my day a little bit and bummed me out a little bit. 

After I mopped and took the rest of the trash out, I made myself a bloody mary with extra a-1 and played air guitar to “Hair of the Dog” from Nazareth, Nobody comes in between 2 and 6 save a couple bums from the bus station and this one dude that kicks ass. To say the least I was having  a good day.

When the door opened I could only see a silhouette walking being who I could only describe as the biggest asshole I’ve ever seen in my life. When they sat at the bar and ordered their drinks, I realized it was her, with this guy.  She didn’t say hey, she didn’t ask how I was, it was as if I never existed in the first place.  They tipped well and were talking to each other about whatever.

I started writing her a note on a napkin I had behind the bar.  It was going to be about how this guy had a cop haircut and hillbilly jaw.  How she could do better than that dude, and how I missed her and she was as beautiful as always. Before I could finish I wadded it up and threw it away.  Hey Jealousy.  I pulled another leaf down and started writing on it, but to no avail.  I put it in my pocket, poured them a few more drinks and let someone else take over my section.

By the end of the night I felt like I had ran a marathon. I went home. In the same order I  do every night, shoes off, smoke lit, drink poured. I pulled the piece of paper out of my pocket proud that I resisted giving it to her.  But then again, what is the worst that could have happened from a note that read,

“What if I told you I was doing fine?, What if I told you I do what I can to get by, and while your lips are pressed against his, I’ve got a bottle pressed to mine,  you don’t have to see my face again, baby, you don’t have to cry.”

“I have came to the realization that something inside of me will not rest until both you and I are completely miserable.  Over the course of the past year I have really started to accept this.  More than anything, I want to spend the rest of our lives together, but there is no way I can ever be OK with the life you will endure. I’ll never be able to figure out what goes on in my own head.  For that matter, you will never be able to change that but before long, you will not only hate me, but you will hate yourself as well.  Goodbye.”

Tapping into my inner 15 year old.  I managed to put this into the form of an email, and send it to the person that I not only lived with, but was sitting across the couch from.  In all of my life, I’ve never pulled such a piece of shit move.

My problem is, I don’t have the guts to say it out loud.  Somehow in my mind, if she reads it and leaves, she will be the one that ended it, not me.  Once again, there’s the bottom of the bottle, there’s the couch, there’s the rest of my night.  

I woke up the next morning and she was gone.  There wasn’t a reply in my in-box, no note on the counter, not even a poetic fuck you in lipstick on the mirror.  There was just nothing.  Well, she left some stuff, like the water bill, and her rings.  I wish she would have taken the later. 

I should have felt empty, or bad, or depressed, or anything.  More than all of that I just wanted a cigarette and to find my shoes.  Once I had both I was content again.  We went through a weird couple of months of randomly bumping into each other at the bar, or having the other brought up by friends who make the situation seem worse than it is.  But over all, This was the best decision for the both of us.

If I could have worded the message better it would have read.

don’t hold on to my hand

I’m Goddamned

I’m falling faster than I can catch myself

You don’t understand.

Its not fair to you, the shit I wanna put you through

I’ll run you through the ringer, until I’m wearing off on you

I didn’t burn the mark of the devil in my wrist

I didn’t sell my soul by the light of the crucifix

But the Devil’s got his claws

Man the Devil’s got his claws

Grinding into me.

I love you for now and you still love yourself.

So go on, Before you hate me, and you hate yourself.

Don’t Hold on to my hand

I’m goddamned.

I have a foot in the pit of hell and I’m Dragging you down

And its not fair to you

The shit I wanna put you through, run you through the ringer

Until I’m wearing off on you

I didn’t burn the Mark of the devil in my wrist.

I didn’t sell my soul by the light of the crucifix.

But the devil’s got his claws,

Man the devil’s got his claws

Grinding into me.

It has been some months now since I have felt normal. I’m going through the motions, but life feels much the same as when you put the palm of your hand to another person’s palm, then clasp your other hand around both.  You have feeling, but its only a half embrace.  The rest is nothing, and though you know it’s there, it has no significance because, again, you cannot feel it. Every day I fall more and more in love with her, but I am incapable of showing that love.  Instead we pass by each other and smile, we say I love you before we leave, sometimes.  

I never believed in seasonal mood swings, or depression, or whatever you call it.  Personally, I’ve always kind of felt like shit, but had my good moments.  I think that makes me happier in knowing its not bad all the time.  This year, the end of the summer brought a certain darkness with it that is eating me away.  The days are shorter, Its dark earlier, its cold, the leaves are falling, college kids with their coexist stickers are back in town.  All of this helps me maintain an unhealthy level of hatred.  This is what keeps me going.  Unfortunately, This is what keeps me drinking too.  At this point, I’m on auto pilot.

The most damning factor of this entire ordeal is that I’m starting to wear off on the only person in the world that makes me happy.  It doesn’t help that we’re broke.  She used to tell me that everything would be alright.  She still does, I just don’t know if she means it now.  Her view of the world is darker.  She doesn’t find joy in things she used to.  She is becoming what I despise the most, Me.

From the bottom of my heart I love her with everything I have in me.  She feels the same for me.  The problem is, we are both disconnected.  We both pick fights so that we will both have a reason to hate each other.  Each insult is a carefully crafted stab and the most insecure parts of each other’s lives, the ones that hurt the most.  Sometimes I could just shake her.  Sometimes I wish she would just have that energy that she used to have, when she didn’t have to say she loved me.  She wishes that I could be the man she fell in love with, and not the man she is currently in love with. We get by.  I drink, she slams the door and goes for a drive.  When she gets home we apologize, cry sometimes, and go to sleep.  

Its different now.  I can’t even force a conversation. The only communication that we can gather is short, passive aggressive comments about anything that can start an argument.  We are starved for each other’s attention, but our minds refuse to give it.  These days I’m surprised that we even sleep in the same bed.  

I’m starting to feel like a carrier.  Like I have a demon on my back called sorrow.  He has carved a 13 into the palm of my hand that spreads to everyone I touch.  Once infected, I have the best advice.  That advice isolates whoever this darkness takes over.  Soon, they are just like me.  A heart without a beat, A body without a soul, A fuck without a kiss, a shell.

Frantically, I want to stop this, or at least postpone this. In a last ditch effort I crawl into bed with her and wrap my arms around her and tell her I love her.  She pulls our hands to her mouth and kisses the top of my hands and tells me she loves me too. Suddenly I’m restless.  I have to get out. I only feel in halves.  I’m on auto pilot.  

Searching for something to write on and get this train wreck out of my brain I find a makeup pencil in the bathroom.  I wrote this on the mirror.

It’s going on two weeks, And if i can’t get my voice beyond a whisper and we can’t make eyes, Its going to beat the breath from my shoulders, and the life from my lungs.

I could shake you, I could scream at you, but what would that prove, I’ll say good night.

And bite my tongue another night, I’ll take another shot of whiskey, I’ll tell you everything’s alright, we’ll make everything alright.

I’ll bite my tongue another time, I’ll take another shot of whiskey, And tell you everything’s alright,  Then I’ll fall asleep with you.  Just say goodnight.

Vibrations are finding their way to the tip of my tongue, and finding the wavelengths to bounce from. So to a friendly ear, can I say I was wrong, just this time.

I won’t shake you, I won’t scream at you, besides, what would that prove? Goodnight

I’ll bite my tongue another night, I’ll take another shot of whiskey, I’ll tell you everything’s alright, I’ll make everything alright.

i’ll bite my tongue another night, Take another shot of whiskey, tell you everything is alright, then I’ll fall asleep to you. When you say goodnight.

As my best friend in the entire world sat in front of me, I could feel him dying on the inside. His face shows no emotion, his hands steady, his eyes half open,half closed.  For the first few drinks we sat in complete silence, occasionally nodding, shooting each other half smiles.  His were thanking me for being there, mine were telling him it was going to be alright.  Guys have a primal and kind of disconnected sense of communication with each other.  This keeps us from having to express emotions verbally.  Your voice doesn’t crack when you nod.  You don’t have to force back tears when you point at other hopeless assholes and share a laugh at their expense. This awkward, uncomfortable silence lasts until one member of the party is forced to leave the bar stool to relieve himself, smoke, or take a phone call.  

“I’ll be back in a sec” he says as he stands to his feet and walks toward the light in the back of the bar. Even after five steps into his walk, he cast no shadow.  I treated myself to another double shot of Wild Turkey.  I am going to celebrate regardless of the news. As he sits back down, he opens up a little.  This is the only moment more awkward than not talking about it.  I have no clue how this is going to start.  Somehow I know that I’ll have something to say that may help.  This guy is closer to me than my own family.  Maybe I’ll just listen and nod.

“Every fucking day I’m going to wake up only occupying a small corner that used to be my side of the bed.  I’m going to smell her shampoo on the pillow beside me.  I’ll feel the unevenness of the mattress where my side dips deeper in than hers.  That side of the bed will be empty, but I won’t dare venture over. I’ll live in fear of it, the way a child lives in fear of the dark.  LIttle by little the darkness will make its way onto my side of the bed.  When that takes over, I’ll sleep on the couch.  Over time that is going to give me a familiar pain that will remind me of why I can’t sleep in the bed.  When that happens, I’ll climb into this bottle right here.  Thats where I’ll hide.  The darkness will be out there, but It won’t matter.  I’ll burn the mattress, the pillow, the pictures, and the stupid fucking post-it notes that are everywhere in the apartment.  When those are gone, I’ll burn them out of my mind one way or the other.  If that doesn’t help I’ll drive east. I’ll drive until no road is left.  I’ll bury myself to my knees in the water that I spawned from. Then I’ll take it from there”.

Its not every day you hear a grown man tell you something that you know has been burning from his stomach to his throat for whoever long.  I dug deep.  I went to the parts of my brain that I had packed up and locked away like a box full of porno movies in 17 year olds closet.  When I finally found the words to respond to his rant, they weren’t exactly profound.  Somehow I managed to muster up enough breath to say “Fuck man, thats fucking horrible”.  Not to change the subject I went ahead and motioned for another shot.  In fact, I had the bartender just leave the bottle.  He was a friend, it was 3am, and they had already been closed for a hot hour or so.  

Careful not to ask much detail, or give stupid advice, I drifted off into the space in time where your words have meaning, but they don’t mean much at the same time.  I let out a half slurred/mumbled line about how he would be over this in no time.  I told him how I knew how bad this had to feel as i took a drink straight from the bottle and passed it to him.  I even managed to say something along the lines of “LIfe is too short” or something to that effect.  In a half hearted attempt to lighten the mood, I filled our glasses up and made him toast me.  At that point I realized that he didn’t need advice, he just needed an ear to listen.  As the bartender left, he told me to lock up.  I’ve worked there for years, and I have a key, so this was convenient for us since neither of us could drive.  

I knew what his problem was.  It was the same problem that I have.  When you have both a great amount of self confidence, and mix it with self loathing, you dig the bottom out deeper than most other people.  Sometimes you forget where it is so you go searching for it.  You finally let yourself go and are happy.  You have to have some sort of shortfall or it doesn’t work.  You start feeling guilty for your happiness.  When this happens you start becoming bitter towards other people who are happy.  The church kids who know Jesus and are stoked.  You know they have some skeletons in their closet, the college hippies who want to make a difference in whatever is the new designer world problem they watch an IFC documentary on, and eventually the beautiful, perfect person that loves you unconditionally.  You find a reason to make her yell.  You get angry because she argues.  You get distant because you don’t want to fight. She leaves because you can’t love her and she deserves better, even if she doesn’t want better. Sometimes misery is a way of life.  Sometimes it’s contagious. Regardless, nobody wants it, and nobody wants to see thier friends living in it.  

Its now 5:30 AM the booze is gone and so are we.  I can see the sun coming up through the stained glass of the front door of the bar.  My brother in misery seems to be in better spirits.  I think that our all night alcohol treatment purged the demons.  He appears to have give up the ghost.  We decide to walk a mile or so down the road and get some breakfast.  Hopefully the fresh air, food, and exercise will sober us up. What a weird fucking night.

The air in the diner is thick with the smell and taste of bacon and sausage and all of the other flavors that make it almost too heavy to breath in.  It makes everything you touch feel like it has a layer of oil on it.  Maybe it does.  As we start our cups of coffee he lets out a quick “Oh well I don’t fucking need her”.  It was true, he didn’t.  He did want her tho.  I started doodling on a napkin as he rambled on about how he’s better off without her, and how she deserves better, and how its been a long time coming, and how he is ok knowing he will be alone he rest of his life.  As depressing as it looks, he was very optimistic, considering the situation.

I put the napkin back in my pocket for safe keeping. By this point, my doodle had became a 3 napkin page long letter.  We finishd our coffee and walked back to my car.  By this point it was almost 8 A.M.  We were sober and becoming hungover.  The only thing worse than waking up with a hangover, is not going to sleep and developing one throughout the night.  

I dropped him off at his house and asked if he would be ok, or if he wanted to come chill out with me for a few days.  He said no, and then took a deep breath. “Man you really are the only person that gets me.  Thanks, I love you buddy.”  He was closer than a brother to me.  We didn’t hug, or have a coming of age moment.  I simply said “you too man, You too.  Give me a fucking smoke”.  As he handed me the pack I handed him the napkin letter.  I lit my cigarette and sat there while he read it.  When he was done he chuckled a bit and said, “yeah man, just another fucking day”

This is what was written on the napkin.

Life goes by at the speed of an eye to eye and a heart to heart

Mister, Fill us too the top, and man clap your glass to mine

tonight we’re drinking on the bar’s dime.

It doesn’t get much better than this, Much better than this.

You can drive all night, until the mountains become sand and the plains drop you out

into the water.

You can drive all night until the mountains become sand, the road leads to Kill Devil HIlls.   Things will be the same man, things will be the same.

If she happens to call, you’ll be right here, living off cigarettes and coffee.

waitress, fill us to the top, man clap your mug to mine. This moning

We’re drinking on the diner’s dime

It doesn’t get, Much better than this.

You can drive all night until the mountains become sand. The plains will drop you out into the water

you can drive all night until the mountains become sand, and the road leads you to Kill Devil Hills

Things will be the same, Man. She will still be gone.

When I lay in my bed at night I cannot even close my eyes.  My heart beats until I can hear it in my ears. My legs tremble, and my mind races a thousand miles an hour. The only thing I can think of is getting the fuck out of this town. 

Eight o’clock A.M. and I am searching for excuses to climb into my car and leave.  I have every reason to stay here and no desire to.  The girl who loves me more than anyone in the entire world is laying beside me begging the day not to start.  ”Let the blinds down and go back to sleep” she says shielding her eyes from the sun slamming its face through the window like a spotlight illuminating the star of the show.  As I stand to my feet every bone in my body aches and cracks, my muscles cramp and contract, and with dry almost sweet breath I breathe out the final drink of last night.  I close the blinds and fall back into bed.

As I lay back down she curls up in next to me pulling my arms around her. She pulls my hands to her mouth and lays a kiss on my hand. This should be my everything. This should be the point in my life where I feel accomplished. This should be what I have worked for.  Instead, once again, my heart is racing and I feel as if the soft hands encompassing mine are shackles.  I want nothing more than to be in love.  I need nothing more than to run until lungs are so hot that the air almost freezes my windpipe and burns all the way down.

I’m ready for a cigarette.  I kiss her neck and tell her that I am restless and need to go outside for a minute.  The sun calms me in a way as I breathe deeply and take in my first breath of fresh air followed by my first long draw of smoke.  After what seemed like 5 minutes, an hour has passed.  With a half of a pack of cigarettes gone, I stand up to go inside. I pass her as she is already leaving for work.  ”Will you be here when I get home” she asks.   “I don’t know. I have some shit to take care of” and just like that, she kisses my cheek, tells me she loves me, and leaves.  I don’t make eye contact, I don’t say I love you, I am cold.  At last glance, she smiles out of the corner of her mouth to me as she gets in the car, Immediately following her smile was a look of desperation.  There is nothing worse than being in love with someone, but being so overwhelmed with your own self loathing you project it on them.

To clear my head I climbed into the cab of my pickup truck. I lit the joint that I had stashed away in the pack of cigarettes in my pocket and started driving.  Windows up, radio off, I’m alone with my thoughts and driving north on 23. I’m exploring memories and ideas that I have stored away for safe keeping. I’m excited about the big plans I am going to undertake, I’m fantasizing about owning a motor cycle.  When I own my motorcycle my first ride is going to be 107 through Unicoi over the North Carolina line to Bakersville and into Spruce Pine.  From there I’ll take the Blue Ridge Parkway to Asheville. Then from Asheville I might take old 19 back over the mountain to Erwin, and finally back to town. Whatever, I’m out of cigarettes.  Its time for Radio.  Fuck, I can’t pick up my station. Upon a further assessment of my situation I realize that i have spaced out for about an hour and a half and I am now heading north through Wise Virginia.  All common sense tells me to turn around and go home.  Maybe get ready for work.  For some reason I feel alot better about driving so I continue on the path I’m taking, besides there is a BP at the top of this hill right on the Kentucky border.  I’ll buy more smokes and maybe a few lottery tickets. Maybe.

My phone rings, Its her, I don’t want to talk, voicemail.  As I take the exit to Whitesburg/Jenkins I wonder how and why I am so disconnected.  Upon further contemplation I decide that its better to leave good enough alone.  I decide that I have driven far enough already, and that I have some friends in Hazard so I head that way.  I call Gary and find out that there is a party on the stripped mountain behind his house tonight.  This is just what I need.  After a quick stop for provisions, another pack of smokes, and some lunch, I’m knocking on his door ready to rage.  

At dusk we arrive on the “strip job”.  A strip job is a mountain that has had the top removed to mine for coal.  Once finished with the mine, the companies replant grass and trees on these vast, flat plateaus that once reached thousands of feet into the sky.  Either way, it makes for a killer place to build a bon fire and act like a total idiot for a few hours.  We commenced our evening of drinking copious amounts of whiskey, shooting guns at empty bottles, puking, scuffling with each other, and eventually chilling out and sitting on chairs, logs, or whatever else we could find around the fire. 

Gary had a friend named Bella.  She was absolutely gorgeous, but had a look in her eyes like she could eat you alive with one snide remark.  I was totally drawn to this girl.  I had no romantic attraction to her, but she seemed cool and I was loaded.  I figured she would at least be someone that I could hang out with and make fun of everyone with since like Gary, all of my other friends in this mountain town did not share the same pessimism and cynicism that overtake my personality at times.  As I offered her a pull from my bottle you could hear screams of “fuck you motherfucker” and “get the fuck off of me asshole” in the background as Gary and his little brother’s shit talk session turned into a battle royal. 

“Look at these guys” she said smirking and pointing the mouth of the bottle towards them.  As quickly as I could I replied with “at least they’re wearing shoes” implying that they were hillbillies.  She asked how I ended up in Hazard on a wednesday in the middle of August.  As truthfully and with as straight of a face as I could pull off I said, My wife went to work today, I was in a shitty mood, so I got high and before I knew it I was here.  I laughed, she didn’t.  ”So are you having problems or something?” she asked.  I explained my situation and how I felt strangled by life in general and was so madly in love with my wife, but I had become complacent and miserable.  She replied with “So you are selfishly punishing the person that you love because you can’t cross the bridge between the person that you are and the person you want to be?”  This hit me like a ton of bricks.  I could have died right there.  She smiled handed the bottle back to me, and went and tended to Gary and his brother who, by this point were finished fighting, but were busted and bleeding.

I finished the last of my drink and threw the bottle into the fire.  I let the tailgate on my truck down so I could climb into the back and sleep. The world went sideways, then the other way, then black.   I woke up the next afternoon in the grass underneath the tailgate. Everyone was gone.  I felt worse than the day before.   

I stood up, all of my bones cracked, all of my muscles contracted and cramped, my breath was sweet with the taste of the last bit of whiskey my body digested.  I lit a cigarette and headed down the mountain.  

Around Whitesburg my phone got service again.  I have a voicemail.  ”Hey listen, I know that you have had a rough couple of months. I don’t know if it has to do with me, I don’t know if it has to do with you, but i do know that this is killing me.  Every time I tell you I love you and you don’t even look my way I die a little.  This can only go on for so long.  This is not a threat to leave you.  This is a promise that if this does not stop, i will be as miserable in my life as you are.  We will both be consumed by this darkness, and we will not be able to keep each other afloat.  I know you don’t want this.  Please come home. I love you”

Suddenly I could feel again.  I didn’t like it. I was sick to my stomach. My eyes were watering and all I wanted was to be at home in my bed with the love of my life.  The most damning feeling was knowing that it was going to be dark soon and I would miss out getting home in time to say I love you and goodnight.  Franticly I call her and, surprise, it goes straight to voicemail. This is the message that I left for her.

You’re Slow like a drug, But i’m slow too.  

Wake up, the sun rises early and think oh, for hours, will you call?

 And oh God, to see you smile or to touch, to touch you at all.

 Drink of the night, Taste her sweet rest, in a couple of hours I’ll be right by your side.

Don’t let the sun go down on your shoulders

Don’t let the day toll what you won’t give

Don’t fall asleep on the phone, I”m almost there

you are too beautiful to wake up.

Don’t let the night fall in this room. 

Burn every damn light in the house and crank the radio loud.

Break off the knob, You’re my rock and roll.

And Street Lights were farther apart where the day held on for dear life

I’m sitting at the wheel, Whats new?

Sing alog, you sing loud. You have such a beautiful Smile

Tonight we’ll dance, Tonight we’re 70 Miles apart.

Don’t let the sun roll down your shoulders, Or let the day toll what you won’t give

Don’t fall asleep on the phone, I’m Almost there, and you’re too beautiful to wake up.

Don’t let the night fall in this room. 

Burn every damn light in the house, crank the radio loud.

Break off the knob.

You’re my Rock and roll.

When I pull into the driveway she is on the porch smoking a cigarette.  As I take the top step we both say I love you at the same time.  She hugged me like she hadn’t seen me in years.  I felt my heart stop, start beating again, and feel like it would explode out of my chest.  As I tell her that I love her, I realize that not only am I crazily in love with her, I’m kind of OK with me too.  I’m ok with all of it.

For the past 6 years I have been writing and recording songs (to be swept under the rug) about heartache, friendships, self loathing, and love lost, but not forgotten.  These songs collectively are the whiskey valentine.  I have no copies of the recordings, nor do I have a way to retrieve them.  Until I can record them again, I am going to to share the verses with you on here.  Along with them, I’m going to write a short story.  These songs are half and half inspired by my life and works of fiction.  I hope you enjoy them.

Jake