The First Time I Took Acid
I was about fourteen and still in eighth grade in Ocean City, NJ, the first time I took acid. What started with a small gold-star tab became a summer of LSD, strange nights, and experiences I still remember decades later.
Life isn’t measured by the computers I’ve built or the servers I’ve managed. It’s measured by the people I’ve known, the places I’ve called home, the mistakes I’ve made, and the stories I’ve collected along the way. From growing up in Ocean City and life at the Jersey Shore to surfing, old trucks, computers, house parties, family, friendships, and a career in technology, these are the stories that made me who I am.
Some are funny. Some are nostalgic. Some probably seemed completely ordinary when they happened. Together, they’re my life.log.
I was about fourteen and still in eighth grade in Ocean City, NJ, the first time I took acid. What started with a small gold-star tab became a summer of LSD, strange nights, and experiences I still remember decades later.
A name on a birth certificate should be one of the simplest facts about a person’s life. Mine became the starting point for uncovering aliases, family history, old letters, and a story about my parents that I didn’t discover until years later.
A childhood fire took my brother Brian and left behind memories I carried for years. My mother was burned trying to reach him, while I was left with fragments of that night and a recurring dream that made me question what I remembered. The Fire I Didn’t Forget is about loss, memory, childhood guilt, and eventually finding peace.
Kendra left Ocean City for Arizona, and I thought our relationship was over. Then came a birthday phone call, a three-day bus ride, and a reunion I’ll never forget.
Fixing computers before Google existed meant learning things differently. There was a time when getting a bunch of computers to talk to each other was almost as much fun as the game we were trying to play. At least that’s how I remember it. This was before high-speed Internet was something everyone had at home….
I remember when pieces of the Sindia shipwreck were still visible from the Ocean City beach. More than a century after the ship ran aground, its remains are now buried beneath the sand—but the stories, legends and memories surrounding it remain.
September 11 Ocean City NJ is a memory I will never forget—not only because of what happened that morning, but because of exactly where I was when the world changed. For me, September 11, 2001 began with the surf. The waves in Ocean City were enormous that morning. I remember faces approaching ten feet on…
Ocean City isn’t only a summer town. One snowy winter, we grabbed the kids’ bodyboards and headed for the boardwalk—not to ride waves, but to turn a snow-covered boardwalk ramp into our neighborhood sledding hill.
I was standing in the alley behind Voltaco’s when I watched a stranger drive away in Joe’s truck, staring directly at me. Seconds later, Joe came running out and told me a man had put a shotgun in his face. One ordinary closing night in Ocean City had suddenly become a story I’d never forget.
Growing up in Ocean City, New Jersey meant living in a true year-round beach town. This isn’t a story about disliking the shore—it’s about remembering the community that raised me and reflecting on how every hometown changes with time.