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UPDATE – 3.9.2012

The tent at Palm Park is flooded out – there’s a whole ecosystem in there underneath the folding chairs. We are moving ALL of the And I Am Not Lying events scheduled for March 10th at SXSW to the Hilton Garden Inn in Downtown Austin – just a few blocks from Palm Park and the convention center. The hotel is at 500 North IH-35/Frontage Road, Austin, TX. Here’s a map.

Our stuff is now going to be on the 18th floor of the Hilton Garden Inn in Downtown Austin in the Colorado and Red River rooms. The content and times will stay exactly the same.

Last week (I think) I may have mentioned that we’re putting on a whole tentload of activities at South By Southwest Interactive this year. If I am completely honest, it’s all I can do not to tear my shirt off and swing through the streets of New York screaming about this like a somewhat flabbier Tarzan.

We’ve finally gotten some stuff locked down with the tent and the order of events, and I just wanted to use this blog post to detail everything so you, me, and airbody else can hose down the Internet with this thing.

First of all: all of this takes place on March 10, 2012 in a tent in Palm Park, adjacent to the Austin Convention Center. Map here.

We’ve got a Tumblr blog set up especially for news about this which you can see here: And I Am Not Lying at SXSW. You can follow us on Twitter at @andiamnotlying and/or by using the hashtag #notlyingSXSW.

The And I Am Not Lying tent will be next to a tent sponsored by Miller. Miller will be giving badgeholders 2 free beers apiece. So there’s that to look forward to.

We’re going to be offering programming based around standup comedy, improv, and storytelling from 11 AM to 6PM, all day long. That programming is predicated around this one simple concept:

Stories are ancient and awesome, everyone loves to laugh, and Web conferences – even the best Web conference in the world – can get SO. FRICKING. BORING.

It’s not really the fault of the programmers. It’s just that … sitting there with a bunch of people while looking at a Powerpoint presentation is not that inherently exciting. Sitting around and pretending to be fascinated while someone guy in a blue dress shirt says “we’re going to leverage the API to drive traffic into out key niche markets, improving ROI and capture metrics” is exhausting. Doubly so when it comes from someone that works in marketing.

A lot of panelists are there to sell you something, to flog their book or promote their startup. We’re not. The only thing we’re trying to sell is our skill as storytellers and comics, and maybe get some better shows out of it in towns that we’d like to visit.

We’re going to sell that to you by being awesome at what it is we do: telling stories and making people laugh.

I know a lot of people come to Interactive for work, and are under some pressure to demonstrate what they learned and justify the expense. We think you learn more when you’re having fun – and honestly, what’s the better learning environment? The dim and stuffy conference room with flickering fluorescent lights, and a guy droning on about “leveraging the power of digital storytelling in a Web 2.0 environment” — or the people that do this on stages, in boardrooms and in burlesque bars 5-20 times a week? This stuff applies to pretty much any discipline, really.

Here’s a breakdown of what we’re offering, hour-by-hour. This is the copy I submitted to the folks at SXSW, anyway, but it’s not on the official schedule or the SXSW app yet, so you may have to write it down on your hand or something:

11AM – 12PM: PANEL DISCUSSION — “From Basement Burlesque to the Boardroom: What Makes Your Story Great and How Can You Make it Even Better?”

Storytelling is both the second-oldest art form and a hot “new” form of entertainment — thanks to This American Life, The Moth’s podcast and live shows, and tons of shows cropping up around the country, storytelling’s making a big comeback. It’s making a comeback in the boardroom, too. And if we are honest with ourselves, it’s just about to join “leverage” in the marketing d-bag’s haggard sack of buzzwords. “Leverage storytelling to activate your customers,” “learn story techniques,” — you’re going to hear a LOT of that at SXSW this year.

You know what you’re not going to hear anyone else talk about?

“What makes a great story?” or “How would I know a good story?”

Good stories are a little like good porn: you know ‘em when you see ‘em. But we’re going to peel that hood back together and examine what makes a story good — and how to amplify and condense that.

Join an interactive discussion with storytelling experts from across a wide range of disciplines – from NPR’s This American Life, NYC storytelling show producers and accomplished solo performers with The Moth, Story Collider, TOLD!, Real Characters, And I Am Not Lying and other shows, as well as an expert in organizational narrative – and hack through the marketing hype to find out what really makes a good story.

Panelists include

Cyndi Freeman – Hotsy Totsy Burlesque, Moth SHOP outreach instructor, Wonder Woman: A How-To Guide For Little Jewish Girls

Thaler Pekar – Smithsonian Institution, Stanford Social Innovation Review

Brad Lawrence – Moth Grand Slam champion, Moth Podcast, And I Am Not Lying

Jeff Simmermon – And I Am Not Lying (this blog, and the show with Brad and Cyndi), Time Warner Cable, This American Life contributor, Moth podcast

12-1: BASICS OF COMEDY IMPROV WORKSHOP

Learn to open yourself up to sudden, new possibilities – and seize the potential from everything that’s right in front of you. You’ll learn the rewarding art of creative play, how to surprise yourself and yank your inner comic out of the closet. In this workshop, you’ll learn how much fun it can be to say “yes” to everything, to stop being ashamed of your own ideas and to easily improvise a hilarious comic scene. Discover how letting go actually provides you with great control in seemingly crazy situations (applicable to daily life, guaranteed).

Coached by Eliza Skinner

Eliza Skinner is a producer, writer, performer, lover and fighter in Los Angeles. She has appeared on TBS’ Are we There Yet?, Showtime’s PopTudors, Late Night with Conan O’Brien, MTV’s Damage Control, and opposite Cheri Oteri in AMC’s LifeCoach. She has taught musical improv workshops all over the country with I Eat Pandas, and on her own. Eliza has also taught improv for BBC America, and on Bravo’s Queer Eye For The Straight Guy. Her solo show, Eliza Skinner is: SHAMELESS ran for over a year at the Upright Citizens Brigade theater in NY and LA, and at the Comedy Central Stage in LA.

1-2PM: STORYTELLING WORKSHOP

Everyone’s got at least one story in them – whether it’s a pitch, a plan, or a tale of love gone horrifically wrong. Join Cyndi Freeman (Moth outreach instructor, storyteller, burlesque performer) and Jeff Simmermon (host, producer of And I Am Not Lying, blogger at andiamnotlying.com, award-winning storyteller) and hone your chops. Practice telling your story, identifying the change and heightening your stakes. You’ll learn how to identify stakes, own your mistakes, and create a compelling narrative.

Presenters/coaches are:

Jeff Simmermon – And I Am Not Lying, Time Warner Cable, This American Life contributor, Moth podcast

Cyndi Freeman- Hotsy Totsy Burlesque, Moth SHOP outreach instructor, Wonder Woman: A How-To Guide For Little Jewish Girls

2-3PM: STORYTELLING OPEN MIC

Have you been dying to tell the world a story? Are you tired of keynotes talking at you and dying to have other people listen to YOU for a change? Here’s your chance! This is partly an optional follow-on from the storytelling workshop at 1PM, and part full-on open mic, this is a time for anyone to tell stories to friends, enemies, and complete strangers. Gentle critique is available and totally optional for anyone who wants to tighten their story and tell it better than ever.

Hosted/facilitated by:

Jeff Simmermon: The Moth, This American Life

Brad Lawrence: And I Am Not Lying, The Moth, Hotsy Totsy Burlesque

Cyndi Freeman: And I Am Not Lying, The Moth, Hotsy Totsy Burlesque

3-4 PM: THE WORLD’S FIRST CROWDSOURCED VARIETY SHOW

Play the Battle Hymn of the Republic on dual kazoos, read the best parts of your manifesto, flog your book or flip your unicycle: all you have to do is tweet, retweet and share information about the And I Am Not Lying tent at SXSWi. The 5 folks who reach the most people win 8 minutes of stage time to perform any old messed-up PG-13 stunt their heart desires.

Hosted by

Jeff Simmermon: And I Am Not Lying, The Moth, This American Life

Brad Lawrence: And I Am Not Lying (http://www.andiamnotlying.com), The Moth, Hotsy Totsy Burlesque(http://www.hotsytotsyburlesque.com/home.html)

4-6 PM: AND I AM NOT LYING – LIVE

The folks from the And I Am Not Lying blog (yes, this one) are cock-rocking the NPR crowd in their new monthly residency in Brooklyn with the best underground comedy, storytelling, burlesque and sideshow acts. This whole thing is about getting together and getting EXCITED, turning the phones off and participating in something that’s temporal, raw, and real, cramming a whole aircraft carrier’s worth of fun into one tent that’s right next to the FREE BEER TENT. Talent will include storytellers, comedians and surprise drop-ins.

Confirmed Talent:

Jeff Simmermon: And I Am Not Lying, The Moth, This American Life

Brad Lawrence: And I Am Not Lying, The Moth, Hotsy Totsy Burlesque

Cyndi Freeman: And I Am Not Lying, The Moth, Hotsy Totsy Burlesque

Andy Ross: The Moth, Real Characters Stories, The Onion, MAD Magazine

Seth Lind: This American Life, Thank You, Robot, TOLD!

Eliza Skinner: UCB Theatre, Diamond Lion, Baby Wants Candy, Magic Bag

Cyndi Freeman- Hotsy Totsy Burlesque, Moth SHOP outreach instructor, Wonder Woman: A How-To Guide For Little Jewish Girls

Additional talent to be confirmed, announced via Twitter (@andiamnotlying/ #notlyingSXSW)/Tumblr.

SXSW Daytime Street Scene | Credit: Brittany Ryan

I’m pretty stoked to tell you this:

And I Am Not Lying is not only putting on a show but a whole tent of action and entertaining education at South by Southwest Interactive this year.

It’s coming together really, really fast and last-minute — not unlike most things at SXSW. Here’s what we do know:

We’re going to have a tent on Saturday, March 10th, from 11 AM to 6PM in Palm Park, right next to the convention center.

We’ll be offering an improv comedy workshop taught by musical improv comedy legend Eliza Skinner, of Baby Wants Candy, Diamond Lion and “Amy at the Club” fame.

We’ll also be offering a storytelling workshop taught by Cyndi Freeman and me (Jeff Simmermon). Cyndi’s an experienced storyteller here in NYC, and an instructor with The Moth’s MothSHOP outreach program, though she is not representing the Moth at this thing. As for me, I just do this a whole, whole lot — and teach story structure and writing in my day job at Time Warner Cable, too.

There’s also going to be a panel discussion about storytelling, from the burlesque backroom to the corporate boardroom with stage and radio in between. Panelists will include me, Brad Lawrence, Cyndi Freeman as well as Seth Lind of TOLD! (one of the city’s best story shows), comedy improv troupe Thank You, Robot, and This American Life. Thaler Pekar, communications coach/organizational narrative expert will also join us on the panel.

We haven’t quite determined the precise timing and order of the workshops and panels. But I know this much – we’re taking a taco break from 2-4 while the Interactive keynotes happen.

And then, from 4-6 PM, we’re putting on a version of the And I Am Not Lying LIVE show featuring storytelling, comedy and sideshow from some of our spectacularly talented friends.

Just guess who three of the storytellers are. I dare you.If you guessed Brad Lawrence, Cyndi Freeman, and Jeff Simmermon, then good for you.

Here’s the really cool thing: we’re next to a tent that gives out free beer. As I understand it right now, this is what SXSW calls a “networking tent”, whereby badgeholders get a couple of free drinks. That’s always where the most magic happens for me at SXSW anyway.

So look: at some point, all the Powerpoints and pointy-headed talks about memes are gonna get old. When they do, we’re outside in the shade and ready to entertain you. Come over, grab a couple cold ones and hang out with us. The whole tent is a polished-up and prettified presentation based around trash-talking with a purpose in the first place — and we’ve worked hard to get good at it.

As a matter of fact, it’s pretty much what we live for. Come hang out with us and you can tell your boss that you went to a few work-appropriate panels if you want.

I am not saying you shouldn’t hang with wild gorillas –  if you want to. Go ahead, it looks like fun.

It is just that they are both intelligent and they are wild animals, plus they have ideas on how things should go.

*Note to self – do not take your pet baby orphan gorilla into the jungle.

Personally I think I understand gorilla culture and etiquette, as it looks a bit like the culture and etiquette in my family. But as my husband knows, I avoid hanging with my family because they behave like mountain gorillas. They are cute and cuddly until you challenge them. You never quite know what you said that got them all riled up, all you know is that they are suddenly screaming and somehow its your fault …

Also a Safari into the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest National Park in Uganda is like $300 a day, and I’d like to see what $300 a day could get me in Vegas.

I know that someone reading this might be thinking, “but  - but –  but….have you seen Koko the talking Gorilla who speaks sign language? Bill Shatner has!”

And I say to the imaginary Koko loving person in my head, “Oh yeah but what about the story of the Petronella Yvonne de Horde, she loved gorillas! She was convinced that the Gorilla named Bokito, who lived at the local zoo in Rotterdam was her friend…and so she went to visit him almost every day.  She would make kissy faces at him and he would make what she thought was kissy faces back….

But what Bokito was thinking was “Who are you to defy my authority! Lady, I am going to kick your ass…if I ever get out of this damn cage!”

Then he figured out how to break out of his enclosure, went on a rampage, dragged Patronella through the zoo cafeteria, breaking bones and biting her over 100 times.

This coined a new word: Bokitoproof, which was voted “word of the year” for the Dutch in 2007.

Now I do imagine that the best Gorilla porn can only be shot on location.

And I know there are many nice gorillas out there. Like Jambo … but clearly Jambo’s teenage son really sucks.

And okay, this one is just too sweet and too heartbreaking not to share.

* Another note to self, do not visit your pet orphan baby gorilla, years after you have sent him off  into the jungle, and expect him to understand you are only stopping by to say hi. As far as a gorilla is concerned, if  you are family you stay until you die!

And okay after seeing this one below … I think I’d rather go on an adventure in Africa than Vegas.

But I am not hanging with gorillas….nope I’m not… you can’t make me…. god they are so damn cute!

I should call my family.

The jukebox at Washington DC’s Black Cat is out of order. Or, it’s out of order as a jukebox – it works just fine as a multi-disc CD player, stuck on shuffle. Someone took the protective covering out from under the glass on the front, and you can see right into its guts. It’s pretty beautiful, I think.

I took this photo with TrueHDR via a wide-angle lens stuck to the front of my iPhone 4, then ran it through the Photoshop app and some other stuff to get this image:

The bus ride down to Washington from New York was pretty uneventful. The cab ride to Eric and Sarah’s (our hosts for the evening) was another story. That was when I found out that we’d sold out the Black Cat.

It’s really, really difficult to articulate what that felt like. Everything got brighter, sharper. Sounds had more clarity, and all the hairs in my nostrils stuck out straight. I think my metabolism tripled. We all had a belt of bourbon before going down to the club, and I think I can speak for all of us when I say that it burned up before it got all the way through the esophagus.

I’d been getting a cold, and my body did this incredibly strange thing. First, it fast-forwarded through the generative stage of the cold, stuff running out of my head like a child had salted a slug’s nest in my brain.

Then when we got to the club and literally had to walk through a small crowd of total strangers to see this sign on the door, everything just stopped completely:

The cold dried up. My body paused it completely, put the whole thing on layaway.

When moved to New York from DC, I didn’t leave many regrets behind. I left some great friends, but I felt really frustrated creatively. It was like climbing a greasy hill – it took a lot of energy to make a little progress.

So when we got a bunch of great press for the show, (special thanks to old friend Chris Klimek) which sort of surprised me. It didn’t really hit me until I saw all those people that I didn’t even know that maybe, just maybe, I’d come to a friendlier city than the one I thought I left. Old friends came out, too – one guy drove all the way up from Richmond. People crammed themselves into the crannies at the place, and then it was showtime.

And oh my God. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that we fricking killed. Imagine surfing sunbeams on a cloud made out of golden thread. Every twitch, every joke, every little comment got laughs. Some bozo sat down front and fiddled with his iPhone and I had to remind him of his manners — and even THAT killed. It got so many laughs that he thought he’d earned a little place in the show.

And as an aside, NO, he didn’t. This show features me, Brad Lawrence, Runaround Sue and Cyndi Freeman. Not me, Brad Lawrence, Runaround Sue and Cyndi Freeman and some asshole in an argyle sweater vest.

But I got lucky — wrangling with that guy added to the experience. Brad, Cyndi and I cut our teeth telling stories at the Moth on a 6-minute shot clock. It was so, so fun to riff out and stretch and feel it work. I’ve never in my entire life felt that connected to that many people, in that much control of what I was doing, just grabbing the giant wheel of a shared experience and taking that fucking thing over a few hills fast enough to give us all that tickly surge deep in the guts.

The Wonder Woman/Cheetah striptease and catfight killed, too. I got the feeling that I could have flicked balls of bellybutton lint at the crowd for a few minutes and gotten away with it.

And in the end, stepping out into the city in a black three-piece suit with an envelope full of cash in my pocket and riding the high of a thousand laughs all the way back home — I think I got as close to feeling something Muddy Waters may have felt as I’ll ever be.

Snipers could have taken us out on the way up 14th street and we’d have gone down grinning.

The Philadelphia show didn’t have the same buzz, but few things in life ever will.

We confirmed the show a little too late to get solid press for it, for one thing. And we really don’t know that many people there, either, and it was on a Sunday night. So it goes.

The show is a big, intense show, and everyone onstage brought their best game. You’ve got to work through a mellow reaction sometimes, that’s how it goes. I don’t doubt that the folks there were having a good time. But it takes a certain density, a certain compression of people to get that focused reaction you’re going for. If the room’s got a funny shape, or people are smattered around, the energy kind of dissipates before it can crash up on the stage.

But when the crowd’s small, I just appreciate the HELL out of every single person for coming out that much more. We’ll pump the show more ahead of time next time, now that we know how it works.

Here’s two views of the room at L’etage in Philadelphia, before anyone showed up:

It’s a beautiful room, and the folks there were really nice. And this happened backstage, too:

Cyndi was flinging her Wonder Woman outfit up on the counter and her (freshly washed) G-string looped itself over my drink. It’s little stuff like that, doing a show in a new town, getting onstage again with old friend and meeting new folks like Doogie Horner that make all this such a rush, and such a weird ride. And the thing is, that coaster is still just ratcheting up the hill.

The way I feel right now is the exact reason that I don’t fool with Ecstasy anymore. All that energy, all that adrenaline rush for a straight week like a hot-tub party with the Rolling Stones, and now it’s like this:

This is one of the biggest achievements of my life, a big fat kill. That meat rots fast, though, and the only way to keep eating is to pick that spear back up and get back in the jungle.

This was our first foray out of town, but it’s going to be FAR from the last. We’ll be back in Washington, back in Philadelphia, and going further and further next time. Best believe that one. Hope we see you next time.

Here’s a little flyer:

Here are the details:

• Show’s at L’etage, (6th St and Bainbridge St.)
• Doors at 7:30, show starts at 8PM prompt.
• It’s $12 at the door.

You’ll see:

• Storytelling from me (Jeff Simmermon), Brad Lawrence and Cyndi Freeman – and Philadelphia storytelling wizard ******
• Comedy by Doogie Horner
• Burlesque by Runaround Sue and Cyndi Freeman.

Brad, Cyndi, ****** and I all met as regulars at story slams with The Moth in New York. Brad and ****** have won their share of Grand Slams, and Brad, ****** and I have all appeared on the Moth’s podcast. I was on This American Life a while back, and was featured on The Moth’s Radio Hour recently, too. Cyndi’s an accomplished storyteller fresh off her show “Wonder Woman: A How-To Guide for Little Jewish Girls.”

And just last week, we added Philadelphia comedian Doogie Horner to the bill, too.

I’m pretty stoked to meet him – the guy is really funny! In addition to performing on America’s Got Talent (I know), he’s a graphic designer by day — and actually designed the cover to “Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.”

Philadelphia Magazine called him the “Most Hilarious Guy in Philly,” and they may be right:

Hope you can make it.

It’s going to be me (Jeff Simmermon) as a storyteller, along with And I Am Not Lying members Cyndi Freeman and Brad Lawrence, along with additional burlesque by Runaround Sue and Cyndi Freeman as Cherry Pitz. Tickets are $12, show starts at 8PM.

You can get those tickets here: And I Am Not Lying: A Night of Storytelling, Comedy, and Burlesque

This is a cool trailer that our generous, warm and talented friend Tracy Rowland cut together for us. If you happen to write a blog or want to shout it out loud on any sort of social platform that you fancy, do please go right ahead:

And I honestly cannot believe that I just standing here in my office, typing this like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

We used to sneak off to the Black Cat in high school and college all the time, to pretty much see everybody. It was the beacon on the hill, the magnet in the big city that produced Bad Brains, Fugazi, Nation of Ulysses and God knows how many other bands — many of which contained my friends that I secretly admired but never told because I was so jealous — and sucked me right up there. I hung out there all the time in the years that I lived in DC, and now I’m thrilled and terrified to be a tiny part of the continuum that made me.

Imagine if you ate at incredible potlucks for your entire life, full of incredible, nourishing delicious everything you could possibly imagine and then found all these new things you didn’t ever know existed but blew your mind apart all the same.

When it comes your turn to put a dish on the table, you just really hope it doesn’t make people barf on the walls, is all I’m saying.

I am nervous enough to barf on the walls right now. I started this blog in Washington, DC as well, and it’s going to be a pretty weird homecoming.

I made this fun little flyer to promote the show, too. Just go right ahead and post that on your social platforms as well:

I sure hope you folks can make it.

I saw him on the PATH Train a few weeks ago. I don’t see him that often, but he’s not like, white buffalo rare. A JC Pimp sighting brings you goodluck, but it’s rapidly expended: you get the privilege of seeing him. That’s good enough. I have no idea what this guy’s name is, or what he does, or how he afoords those suits that make him look like Flavor Flav starring in a remake of “The Mask.” But he’s probably not a real pimp, like that other guy in Jersey City.

People in Jersey City try to photograph him, and they track sightings on the JC List. I saw him on the train once, wearing a floor-length faux-raccoon fur coat and a fedora covered in matching fur. I asked him if I could take his picture, and he waved me off, muttering “no pictures, no pictures.”

It’s fascinating to me, that someone could want to draw so much attention to themselves in one way — and so little in another. He’s not exactly trying to blend in.

I’ve been to that well before, and I think I’ve about beat that thing to death by now. Still, I’m glad I was able to squeeze another story out of it.

It’s not every day that a giant lizard tries to eat your blood-soaked pants. And the opportunity to talk about having a giant lizard steal my pants on a kangaroo shooting trip doesn’t really come up in conversation at the office all that much either.

So I’m really glad I got to use that little gem for something. I’ve probably forced it a few times too many over the years.

The Moth was awesome enough to include my story in their podcast today, too. I’ve wanted to make their podcast for years, and it’s a pretty huge honor. I feel like running down the hall at work high-fiving people, but I’m pretty sure that opportunity’s not going to present itself either.

Here’s a video of me telling that story from today’s Moth podcast at the January GrandSLAM, in case you’re stumbling in off the Internet and wondering if I am, in fact, a bald-headed white dude with glasses and a suit:

If you want to see more stories, you can do that here, here, and here.

I have a much more noticeable Southern accent in that story than I normally do. That’s because I had more bourbon in me than I usually do, too. The Virginia accent is milder than an Alabama twang but excitement, fun and booze will bring it right on out.

I have two rules for myself when I’m doing a show:

1) No more than two or three drinks max before telling a story
2) If someone buys me a drink, always say yes. They’re wishing well, and it’s a kind gesture

As you can see, there was a bit of a conflict. One sniff of a bartender’s rag and grits would have started shooting out of my pores.

I struggle a little bit, too, with the way that I’ve personified “Craig,” the ‘roo shooter in these stories. I make him sound like a really gruff, caustic jerk. That is not so much an inaccurate description as it is incomplete. There’s a lot more to him than than a five-minute story can really convey.

While he is perfectly capable of cussing a buzzard off a shit-wagon, he also has a huge, generous heart. The way that he talked about his kids, his excitement about having his first grandchild and his tremendous love of the land didn’t really fit into either story, but those are just as important as his sporadic torrents of emasculating verbal abuse.

He took me into his home before we went on the trip, worked around my general cluelessness, kept me alive in some of the most brutal climate on Earth and tipped me out extra for a job well done at the end of the gig. I learned a lot about how to get tough real, real fast from that guy. Pretty much everything I’ve done since has been easier or at least more manageable.

And he was pretty much fine with me telling stories about it, I think.

If you imagine Jeff Bridges’ character in “True Grit” transplanted into Mad Max, you’d pretty much have him, actually. He’s the toughest guy on earth. And you just don’t expect the world’s toughest guys to hug it out with you when you disagree.

I wrote down his address in a notebook after we parted company and promised to mail him any writing I generated from the experience. And then, somewhere in my move back to America I completely lost the notebook. Then the internet caught on, and nobody on earth ever put pen to paper again.

I doubt he’s an avid blog reader, but I’d love him to know these stories are out there. If any of you recognize him in this, please do get in touch and let’s verify it privately.

“Craig,” if you’re out there, I hope you’re happy and healthy and loving being a grandpa. I hope you’ve got your feet up and a cold one in your hand and a whole marathon of “Law and Order” reruns to watch on the telly.

And thank you for everything, so, so much.

I’d just walked up the street to see DeCarlos about a suit he was working on for me. When I walked up the sidewalk, it was completely clear. Fifteen minutes later, this fridge appeared in the sidewalk, maybe coalesced out of some swirling dirty plastic vapors or something. It had no front door, nothing in it except for this one PBR gleaming in the freezer compartment:

The air around the fridge shimmered and warped like heat rising off of desert asphalt. I reached in to touch it, and the strangest thing happened. As soon as my fingers entered the shimmering, warping atmosphere around the fridge, everything changed. A warm heat started in my fingerprints and climbed up my arm, fast, spreading all over my body.

It felt like the sun on the beach the second it overcomes the cool of the ocean while you’re lying there on your towel, just that few sweet minutes before you put on some more sunscreen. I could hear ocean crash in the distance and smell hot dogs and warm pavement. The ocean faded away after a minute to the snap of dominoes on a card table and an old Hector Lavoe song drifting in through a window that wasn’t even there.

The can itself felt cool. Frosty little beads of condensation popped on my palm when it closed around the aluminum. The radio drowned out and all I could hear was hissing carbonation and the ghost of a burp from a not too-distant future. “Drink me,” it screamed.

My girlfriend came down the street a second later and poked my shoulder, popping the whole bubble. “What are you doing messing around in that old refrigerator,” she said. “You weren’t going to drink that open beer that was just sitting there, were you?”

I couldn’t explain myself. I couldn’t really articulate it at all. I tried to tell her that this refrigerator was an ambassador from a time of permanent summer. It was a sort of monolith that had appeared in a rift between the seasons, really. But the words just sounded dumb when I said them out loud.

So I tried again. “Look,” I said, “this is no ordinary Pabst. This is a liquid portal to a dimension of endless summer. If we split this thing real quick, we may never experience winter again! Or, at the very least, we’ll be able to extend summer until our digestive system clears the stuff. I can’t tell for sure which it is, but there’s only one way to find out.”

Her nose wrinkled. She pointed to a man down the street wearing an old pair of boardshorts and a tank top and lying underneath a car. He was not trying to repair it.

He eyed us, and gave me the thumbs up. “I think that guy left it there,” she said.

“I did,” he shouted. “I left it there so y’all could feel the summer up inside of you, too!”

She took my hand. “Come one, let’s go. Stop playing with this creepy fridge and let’s just have a drink with lunch. I like wine better, anyway.”

She was right. She usually is.

Now it’s almost March, and it’s been a brutal winter. I’m sitting here in my apartment dreading the trip to the subway to go to work. If I go into my kitchen and that same beer appears on my counter I”m chugging that thing.

Surf’s up.