Alan Ryland

Everyone wants to be the bartender’s friend, and they meet a lot of intriguing people while at work. The regulars all have their idiosyncrasies. The out-of-towners all have their special requests. The old-timers all have their memories… and their stories.

You have not truly lived until you’ve taken the 7 train into Flushing for the sole purpose of gorging yourself on delicious pork buns, dumplings, garlic chicken wings and even vermicelli.

It is the truth which first attracts, then binds people to us, and the truth which just as easily repels, even tears people away.

You doodle all day while keeping an eye on the clock just like when you were a teenage idiot stuck in detention.

If my commitment to my work makes me single and unapproachable, then I’ll remain single and unapproachable.

We’ve survived one internet outage in my time here and three hours into it, I’m surprised none of us devolved into cannibalism.

Here we are: Less than two weeks away from 2016 and I still wonder who I am and what I’m capable of.

Practically everyone had worked at the Wal-Mart or the Dollar Tree. Or the drug store. Or the gas station. Or the Kohl’s. Or the JC Penny. Or the K-Mart.

Think of how much character this show would be lacking as a result if the characters weren’t such total stoners.

Read this if you look around you and feel resentment bubbling in the pit of your stomach at the thought of all the pretty, happy people. Read this if you’d rather swap bodies with someone, anyone.

Of course, it is only natural that someone with Adele’s influence would inspire scores of covers from other musicians eager to provide their own spin on her inimitable melancholy.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve written something, only to find myself agonizing over it, even to the point of despising it right off the bat. I am my own worst critic.