Between 2002 and 2004, I wrote these updates on Sunday, sharing the events of my week and sent them out to all my friends. They were action-packed, exuberant (more exuberant than I was most of the time), and bluntly honest about myself. I started them out because I vowed to myself that something interesting would happen to me every week. And it did.
I saved these into a file on my hard drive that got destroyed when Newcastle sat on it. Luckily I had a hard copy that went into storage, never to be seen again, until now. Because I thought it would be fun to relive my glory days as Jack Murphy (inside joke, don’t ask), I dug it up.
It was not fun. Jesus. I was not nearly as witty as I gave myself credit for. I am the last person to complain about his past writing—I feel like most of mine holds up, maybe with a polish—but Jesus.
I feel like someone pulled the rose-colored glasses from my face and dropped them to the floor, smashing them with their boot.