For the Love of Golf, Meme Coins, and Stories, Stories Stories

This week has been all about two things for me: perseverance and trying my best to stick to what makes me feel better as a human being and not necessarily this character Mitchell Duran I’m currently struggling to keep upright. If that doesn’t make sense I pulled it a little bit from this video of Jim Carrey touching on it.
You could argue that the human and Mitchell Duran are the same, but this week at least, separating one from the other I have created seems to be the only way I can get to the work I know I need to do to essentially get back to me. I don’t know precisely how or why I need to get back, or if it’s even possible and for who, but I’d like to feel better as a whole, as a living, breathing being on this Earth, for no other fundamental reason than to get out of bed in the morning and make money this week.
I told my fiancé Greta the other day that this week, I felt like a cog, old paint on an abandoned house; some rusty nut on the great ship of the USA’s Western capitalism. And on this ship, no one knows my name or cares to know about my past, but only that I make a salary to contribute to whatever direction this thing is headed towards. And in all honesty I didn’t want to contribute, I didn’t want to lend any ideas or energy, at least not in the ways they wanted me to. Yet, there I was, here I am, doing it anyways, day after day. She didn’t have much to say, as with most of my rambling metaphors, other than, you’ll be ok. Give it time, which is true.
But yes, perseverance and sticking to what I know will make me - this I - feel better than not. It takes tenacity and a genuine will to push through something you don’t want to do, but even more so when you know you like/must do the thing but can’t seem to muster the energy, power, emotion, or creative will to do so. If you’re struggling like I am in whatever way you are, know you aren’t alone. I’ve noticed these flashes and phases come in random waves, and like every period - good or bad- they too shall pass for something new.
This week’s newsletter will include:
Thoughts on the grand game of golf
Meme coins are ruining my life and the lives of the young
Stories, where do they come from?
Yes, I’ve Started Golfing, and I Think I’m Addicted

Never even in a million years, hell, a year ago, would you find me on a golf course. I grew up skateboarding smelling of sweat, Arizona Ice Tea, and Sunchips (and later beer), always hating the air of snobbery and of the establishment that was golf. Those things were imposed on me from things like media, TV, and movies by directors, writers, and actors wearing pink Lacoste cardigans and tighter-than-need-be khakis, which told the world, I am better than you, I am richer than you, and this game of mine, this game of golf, is above you. And that may very well be the case still, but that didn’t really matter to me - or affect me yet - when I started playing the game.
I knew next to nothing about golf until probably two weeks ago, and I should also stress that I still know nothing about it today. I barely know how to use my body to swing, what to do with my arms, or where to even look if I actually get the club around to hit the ball in a proper, lofted, straight direction. There is still the slightest, subtlest of shock every time I truly connect.
I have little idea which club to use in what situation, be it a seven or a five, a pitching wedge or a hybrid. Putting only reminds me of miniature golf, which I never played, and the last time I was on an actual course, I got in trouble for constantly stepping on the green before another golfer put his because it fucked up the grass. It’s a whole wide world! A whole mad, frustrating but also deeply meditative, focused, and repetitive world that offers a road to “mastery," but, like the arts, like life, there appears to be no “ah-ha” point or moment when you can finally put the club down and proudly say, I’ve done it, I’ve done it all.
In actuality, if I do continue, which I hope to do, the club, in the end, will likely put me down. But for now, the world itself and everything there is to learn in it is nothing short of addicting which these days, is a healthy habit to have.
Meme Coin Trading Has Destroyed My Life

If you’re unfamiliar with meme coins, I hope you never encounter them. They used to be innocent, “fun” culture tokens—usually centered around some kind of animal, like the infamous Shiba-Inu DOGE or, more recently, Pepe, the viral and sometimes virile green frog created by American artist Matt Furie with his catchphrase 'Feels Good Man’ for his comic series Boy's Club in 2005. The meme-coins value (always in some kind of crypto depending on the blockchain that you’re on, be it Ethereum, Solana, etc.) is most always tied to how much attention said meme-coin is getting. Take DOGE, for example. Remember when Elon Musk tweeted up a storm about Doge, throwing posts on X (then Twitter)? It sky-rocketed its price where the meme coin itself did nothing but meme, eventually reaching a peak market cap of $88.8 billion on May 8, 2021, with a price of $0.6818 per coin. But what comes up must come down and ironically, after the utmost attention, DOGE plummeted 90% + over the next couple of months with little to no reprieve for years.
If you have no idea what I’m talking about, don’t feel bad. I feel bad for spending so much time in this cultural pothole, but alas, I was there as I am in every murky, degraded cavern when trying to use my brain and write for money. Maybe I should be a writer for like a nature magazine or high-end lotion or something? What I was doing and why I even came across these meme coins really begins when I was working for a famous “crypto-YouTuber” CryptosRus, producing his shows scripts twice a day. This naturally led me to be around this shit every day where one thing led to another and, years later, here I am still, even more entrenched and now “trading” meme-coins on the hellscape that is PumpFun.com and others. I won’t get into the platform now (if you want to have a full blown mental breakdown try it out for a few hours) but in a nutshell, this social site basically lets anyone create a meme coin out of anything, be it a famous person’s cat/dog (always very popular) or something as timely and weird as a “Smoking Turkey Frog,” a derivative in fact of none other, “Smoking Chicken Fish.”


And it’s all about attention: someone big tweets something out and BOOM, it becomes the “it” coin for a second or an hour, or weeks. If you don’t believe me Google $PNUT or most recently $CHILLGUY. They are all likely on their way to billion-dollar market caps solely because of the attention, the present community (if they’re smart they’ll sell and leave when the euphoria hits or become bag holders…trust me, I would know), and by the support of massive crypto-exchanges that list these coins for retail. Overall, the story here is definitely much bigger than this quick blurb and I’m hoping to put something more organized together for an all out essay when/if I can pull myself from the charts…hopefully soon.
Where Stories Come From

I’ll be honest, I have been blocked lately when it comes to anything resembling creative fiction and/or creative writing/poetry in general. It’s hard to describe what this feels like so I’ll try using imagery: the reflection of the sun on a body or water is duller; a bit of history that once carried wonder no longer has the same spark; words and lines spoken from strangers doesn’t make me laugh as hard or lead me always to write them down. It’s almost like the will to find the will has a weight to it, making it almost impossible to chase. The memory is there but the present joy and action is not.
It’s not a great feeling to recognize and see that something you felt free and enjoyed doing like writing fiction is suddenly not be there anymore. It’s like a little death, a little goodbye that neither party was ready for or, necessarily wanted. It simply is with little to no direction to get it back. Do I want it back? Of course, and I will get it back eventually but brunt-forcing my way out of it doesn’t feel quite right.
But, like most things, not all is lost as I still have this funny trait/talent/touch of associative thinking that most always leads me to think, oh, I could write about that. I could turn that into a story. If that’s there, then I know the writing itself, in all its ups and downs, joys and miseries (and solitude) will follow eventually. Many don’t know this but writing takes an insane amount of will power I am learning about everyday.
This story that came upon me, more of a poem but I could see some kind of parable forming from it as well, happened a few weeks ago at my fiancés family friends funeral for Chris Walker. Great man, great party, and as everyone told stories of his life, I had to slink off to write something down from the voice that has been distant but, apparently, is still there:
Explanation of a tree
and how its roots when another tree is weak
reaches out to send nutrients help
to help the weak ones.
Ancient systems and actions
based in nature
based not in imposed ideas of society
but in the true meaning of connection
and what it is to live to survive, without thought, without wanting, only giving.
Keep living to experience the beauty and
hardships of this life together, together, as one.
If you are lucky enough to build yourself into a tree, amass wealth and power,
be the tree be the roots.
Maybe there’s something there, maybe there’s not. Either way, it was good to hear that voice again.
What I’ve Been Reading



Small Rain by Garth Greenwell
“Bad Influence” by Mia Sato
“What’s Coming: The Changing Domestic and World Orders Under the Trump Administration” by Ray Dalio
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