Poem

I wonder what my window
sees in me.

Especially when I’m there.

-M. Taggart

Poem #Anew

Our dreams did push forward
and we did follow them
The path, we understood, was not out own.
And became more and more narrow
until finally

It’s Sunday morning again.
You’re alone.
Although the birds are outside,
with the new seed.

-M. Taggart

The Storm’s Aftermath

The town dump has shut down the burn pit.

Meaning, we are no longer able to toss branches into a massive hole that the town regularly burns down with the fire departments help. There’s so much tree damage from the massive winter storm that the pit is full, and we’re all needing to find other ways to clean our properties.

Burn Baby! Well, the town shut down our burn permits.

We live in an area of thick forest cover and lots of land. Most of the time we make a pit and burn large branches. It makes for quick clean up after storms of this size. Now that we can’t get a burn permit to put to use a large fire- we are stuck with one option.

Robbing banks.

Just kidding. That’s something I would have said to Gavin, mid-story, for absolutely no reason. With a straight face. Complete Dad-joke mode.

Anyway, the only option we have now is to use a small, enclosed, campfire. No larger than 3×3. Sending a smoke signal for help with this thing will be a challenge.

I spent most of the day yesterday cutting branches into smaller branches, into smaller branches, and then into the campfire. It was such slow work that I may have drank more beers than I burned branches. At this rate, I’ll be done in about fifty-years.

It’s ok though. There’s a lot of beer to test.

Have fun out there!

Matt

Late Winter Storm

And just like that, Old Man Winter is Back!

Here, in our region of Maine, we were just gifted with nearly a foot of snow. The storm is unique in that you can stand on the snow, without snowshoes, and not sink. A tough, thick layer of sleet and ice has encrusted, and packed, the top of the snow.

I can literally jump on the snow and nothing happens. It’s been a few decades for this experience to repeat itself.

I went outside with Gavin and the dog. We went from full on mud season, to this frozen tundra, overnight. New England’s weather is fickle. And while Mother Nature may not hold loyalty toward any one region, she is fiercely loyal to the natural unexpected to become expected here in New England.

I love it. I love the extreme differences. I haven’t any interest in perfect weather, day-after-day. Maybe tomorrow we’ll see a tornado 🙂 that’d be fun!

Have fun out there!

Matt

lol Gavin didn’t even bother putting his snow gear on. Who really needs it when you can float.

poem

Writing-
Are memories
made tangible

Some of the most vivid
crawl from the page
back to the mind,
to the heart

Some days,
I’m not so sure
how to feel about that

-M. Taggart

Asking for a Friend!

Hey everyone! What’s a few good self-publishing platforms?

A great childhood friend of mine ( -not the one who is recovering) is ready to write his story, and ready to self-publish, but, doesn’t know which platform to go with.

I told Nate, that I would ask all of you. Some of you are so well educated in this that I consider you experts. It’s possible that a few of you like one platform more than another- we’d like to hear anything that any of you would like to share.

Any help would be greatly appreciated.

Once feedback for Nate arrives, I’ll share this post with him, and collect his thoughts.

Thank you all!

-Matt

I’m so incredibly out-of-touch with the self-publishing platforms that I’m of no use lol. And Nate, (like my friend in recovery) is like a brother to me. I have to find a way to help.

Poem

I don’t worry about the past-
But,

I write about it

and that’s what worries them

-M. Taggart

Journaling? #pros

I really need to put time into my ‘about’ and ‘published work’ page. I keep putting it off.

Kind of like mowing the lawn in the dog-days of summer.

It’s there. Looking at me. Growing every day. And when I drive away from my house, I can’t help but notice it. Looking at me. Even from down the road.

Now that I’ve written that I need to update these things, maybe it’ll become closer to happening.

Maybe.

I know this much- I’m lucky to have an ‘about’ page, and lucky to have published work.

Anyway, I’ve noticed a few views on my “about” and my “published work” lately. -They are way outa-date, and I’m aware 🙂

This post reminds me of a journal entry that I’ve never had before. That, being a journal, but now it’s here and I like it. Because what’s here if it isn’t here? Or there.

Have fun out there!

And remember: You don’t need permission to live your life.

Matt

I Wanted to be Home – #short story #true

It was just after 3AM, and I finally knew that I was going to make it home. I had nearly gone off the road near South Portland. That was a few hours ago.

It was one of those drives, one of those moments, where you realize you made the wrong decision. Yet, there was nothing you could do about it. You have to continue on; white knuckling your way through life.

I told myself that I should have stayed at the hotel, all while knowing that I was never going to do that. The moment I stepped off the train I knew I’d be clearing my truck off an driving the backroads to home.

The hotel was only a few miles from where I parked my truck. Why would I do that when I could sleep in my own bed. All I had to do was live.

I pulled into a few gas stations. All of them were closed. No coffee. The further from the city I drove, the more remote the region became. The winter storm pounded away. I kept telling myself that in a half an hour I’d be at ‘X’ location and so on.

Besides the random snowplow, I was the only vehicle that I saw. Further hammering home the point of my stupidity.

When I finally knew that I was going to make it home, I stopped my truck, rolled down the window, and took a photo. Dark nights on backroads carry with them their own magic. Their own set of feelings, and their own rules. I don’t know any of them.

-M. Taggart

Poorly timed photo taken in the winter of 2023

I can feel the darkness sliding away

I’m sorry and I’m asking for forgiveness. From all of you, and from myself.

For nearly three years, I slowly abandoned one of the reasons of my being on this Earth. To write. It’s a simple thing and I left it behind. I’m ashamed of myself. 

I lulled myself into work. I wasted my energy. I was gone often. I knew what I was doing and I didn’t stop it. When launching the company, I and my family, honestly thought it was the right thing to do. Financially, long term, wealth building, bla. bla. bla. None of that matters when you remove the essence of where your faith resides. I became empty.

I know ‘I learned’ through the process- that’s not the point. Not for me. Those lessons mean very little to me when considering that I went against my soul’s purpose. I followed a path that I thought I was supposed to walk. Ego. And, I put everything I had into it. An IT, that was purposeless. And when I realized it was pointless I still walked that dark path. I over thank when all I needed to do was listen to my soul. Something I had sharpened as a young man and managed to dull. I disgusted myself.

Just before the Lewiston, Maine, shootings something internally had shifted so strongly- I knew I was coming back. I was seeing and feeling very clearly. To the point where I knew something was desperately off. I was seeing ‘the look’…I described this in detail to family members. In fact, just hours before the shootings took place, I was on the phone with a family member talking about ‘the look’. I drove by the bar, and just a few short hours later, the tragedy took place where I had just been. My store is located a half a mile from the bar.

Days after, my decision to take my life fully back was made. Driving by the memorials that were put in place to show sympathy and love for the victims, multiple times per day, was a constant reminder, and yes, a wake up call- that life really is too short. Especially when you’re walking in the wrong direction- like I was doing.

However, finally, I’m back. I still have a few weeds trying to pull at my ankles, but weeds have never kept me down and certainly can’t stop my moving forward.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever write about what took place over the past three-plus years. Maybe in time. I’m not sure. I can best describe it like this- I was walking down a path. It slowly became dark. Everything closed in on me. Soon enough, I was alone, and still I walked into the darkness.

-Thanks for being here. To my friends on here who didn’t give up on me, thank you. I see you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.

Matt

In January of 2023 I published 6 posts on my blog.
In January of 2024 I published 15 posts.

In February of 2023 I published 4 posts.
In February of 2024 I’ve already published 2 (this being the 2nd) and it’s only February, 3rd.

This blog, and all of my friends I’ve made along the way, are important to me. I’m going to be around much more. Much much more. Much much much much more lol