An Introduction
Wondering why I’m here? Me, too.
Emerging into the endless congestion of traffic, the swarm of Downtown Atlanta awaits me. Each time I drive through these hellscape lanes, I can’t help but smile. Perhaps let out a tiny chuckle as I beat into the ground the famous line of The B-52’s “Love Shack”:
“I’m heading down the Atlanta highway.”
I’ve done this for the last year, no matter the time of day. Whether it be a race to a bar or a two in the morning return to my small apartment, I always give myself a moment of reflection and appreciation for the life I’ve begun to cultivate. Despite the state of this country or the uncertainty of my future, I can reassure myself that everything is okay. Even for a few moments.
In the last few years of my short-lived life, I have come to the conclusion that I am not extraordinary. My existence is nothing new or exciting. The most recent example came in the thick opaque cloud of a smoke machine at The Basement, an underground club in East Atlanta. I was approached by a friend who’d been searching for me, yelling into my ear, “Everybody in here looks just like you.”
There’s never been a better way to gain a neutral perspective of myself.
We spend our time curating our identities, carefully crafting the image we want to imitate when we look in the mirror. For me, it’s usually a smattering of black eyeliner and crimson lipstick, goading myself into believing I’m a vampire. When I started going outside, I learned very quickly that there are girls with the same “aesthetic” in every club, bar, and coffee shop in Atlanta.
Why am I saying all of this? Isn’t this supposed to be a blog about local businesses?
The answer is yes. And no.
When I moved to Atlanta in December of 2023, I had no expectations for what my life was going to look like. There were no guidelines I was to abide by. To put it simply, I was given the chance to break free of the mundanity that trapped me in Memphis and Chattanooga. Now, here I am, in the second year of Adventure: practically unemployed, directionless, and striving to continue to write no matter what happens.
I am an outsider, much like a good percentage of those living here. Each city that makes up this area is only known to me in passing glimpses and short-lived memories. For now, I find myself capturing what begets inspiration and the discoveries that come about once it’s put onto the page.
This journal is a love letter to my curiosity for writing, influential discovery, and a city whose many faces drew me here.
