Backstory to a party I hosted:
It was 1977, revolution was seemingly imminent and Michael Kumfer was weeping, collapsed in a tiny corner of the den in his 2-story apartment with only a handful of recently emptied bottles of Colt 45 and a decorational katana to keep him company. He had been weeping for hours about many things: he had recently been fired, his girlfriend had left him and a general feeling of malaise had settled upon his pathetic existence. There was only one choice, really: the choice he should have made a long time ago. He took out the katana from its protective sheath and stared at the blade in wonder and awe. Could he do it? Could he really usher in his own fate?
But wait! On the ground, Michael spots a letter-size sheet of printer paper and an ordinary Bic pen! WOW! Michael drops the sword and begins to write his innermost thoughts onto the paper. A mere twenty hours later, his thoughts are now expressed and his spirits are immediately lifted. Michael got a new girlfriend and a better house, and is now an extremely wealthy dictator of a third-world country (hint: it’s not in Europe) under an assumed name. And he bought an XBox, which is pretty cool I guess.
Michael proved that the pen is mightier than a… a fucken katana. And this Friday night, in Bar Harbor, we won’t have katanas but we’ll kinda do the same thing, with the… drinking and the writing.