Matthew B. Peterson is a writer and psychotherapist living in Western NC. He is expecting his status as a legitimate man of letters to skyrocket with the proliferation of this blog. He feels quite silly to write about himself in the third person.
A quick note: In a spirit of mercy to myself and to you, my reader, I decided to table a piece I started writing directly referencing recent national events that we are all processing and likely needing some space away from, so I decided instead to offer you this for
It’s August in the late, hot summer of 1989, weeks before we start our senior year in high school, and we are sitting in my 1980 Honda Accord hatchback in Amy’s driveway, listening to Indigo Girls on cassette. Amy is singing softly with the tape: My place is
(A typical interaction between Me and the Universe) Universe: Teaching moment or torture? Me: Umm….torture, please! Universe: Ok, here’s a teaching moment. Me: (……..) The other day I was in a traffic situation in which someone did something super selfish and shitty, I honked and they flipped me off.
(alternate title: Heavy Mental Parking Lot) “Two hundred years of American technology has unwittingly created a massive cement playground of unlimited potential, but it was the minds of 11-year-olds that could see that potential.” -Craig Stecyk, 1975- from Skateboarder magazine In one memorable mid-eighties summer, a convergence of events considerably
Somewhere, in recent years, I heard this wise little nugget; that you make the path by walking. And, man…did I need to hear THAT, because until that moment, the central premise of my self-pitying mid-life crisis narrative had been that a half-century of cautiously side-eyeing and waiting for “the
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New essay up now (The Opposite Shore), new hosting site (Ghost), new URL https://nondrowsyformula.ghost.io/. I can now deliver these writings as a newsletter, and am working on embedding audio so you can listen to me read my essays and rest those tired peepers. Thanks so much for