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The Drunken Odyssey

~ A Podcast About the Writing Life

The Drunken Odyssey

Tag Archives: Orlando

Episode 407: Nathan Holic!

22 Saturday Feb 2020

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Comic Books, Craft of Fiction Writing, Episode, Florida Literature, Graphic Novels, Literature of Florida

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Bright Lights Medium-Sized City, Burrow Press, Nathan Holic, Orlando

Episode 407 of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing and literature is available on Apple podcasts, stitcher, spotify, or click here to stream (right click to download, if that’s your thing.)

This week, I talk to my friend and colleague Nathan Holic about his new novel that is a true epic of our hometown (Orlando), Bright Lights, Medium-Sized City.

Nathan Holic

Nathan Holic at an undisclosed location in Orlando, without a beer.

This is Nathan’s 8th appearance on TDO!

TEXT DISCUSSED

Bright Lights Medium Sized City15 Views of OrlandoAmerican Fraternity Man

NOTES

  • This episode is sponsored by the excellent people at Scribophile.

Scribophile

typewriter

  • If you are in Orlando on February 29, come to the Typewriters and Jazz Write-in from 1-3 PM being held at Jack Kerouac’s old residence (from when On the Road came out).

Episode 407of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing and literature is available on Apple podcasts, stitcher, spotify, or click here to stream (right click to download, if that’s your thing.)

Episode 220: Sam Slaughter!

20 Saturday Aug 2016

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Episode, Florida Literature, Literary Prizes, Literature of Florida, Memoir, Travel Writing

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A Brief History of World Travel (Part 8): Notes on Baltimore, Bastard Out of Carolina, Denis Johnson, Dorothy Allison, Florida Man, God in Neon, Jesus' Son, Mark Powell, Orlando, Sam Slaughter, The Bambi Molesters, The Young Widower's Handbook, There Will Be Words, Tom McAllister, When You Cross That Line

Episode 220 of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing and literature is available on iTunes, or right click here to download.

In this week’s episode, I talk to my friend, fiction writer Sam Slaughter, who I met back in 2014, when he wrote a little something about Denis Johnson’s Jesus’ Son for the show. We talk about his short story collection, God in Neon, his chapbook, When You Cross That Line (inspired by Florida Man stories), alcoholism, how we evolve as writers, and the Orlando writing scene.

Sam Slaughter

Photo by Oxley Photography 2014

Plus Tom McAllister of Book Fight fame reads his personal essay, “A Brief History of World Travel (Part 8): Notes on Baltimore, MD.”

Tom McAllister

TEXTS DISCUSSED

God in Neon

When You Cross That Line

The Sheltering

Bastard Out Of Carolina

NOTES

  • Check out Sam Slaughter’s website.
  • Hear Sam read his essay about Denis Johnson’s Jesus’s Son back on episode 119.
  • Or hear Sam read his essay about his misadventures in brewing beer back on episode 126.
  • Or hear Sam reads his essay about helping himself to some sacramental wine as part of our Repeal Day 2014 show back on episode 129.
  • Read the text of A Brief History of World Travel (part 8) – Notes on Baltimore, MD, or check out Tom McAllister’s other essays in this series, and his other work, on his website.
  • Consider pre-ordering Tom McAllister’s forthcoming novel, The Young Widower’s Handbook.

Young Widowers HandbookListen to the music of The Bambi Molesters.

Sonic Bullets


Episode 220 of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing and literature is available on iTunes, or right click here to download.

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The Global Barfly’s Companion #14: Independent Bar

29 Monday Jun 2015

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in The Global Barfly's Companion

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IBar, Independent Bar, Orlando

The Global Barfly’s Companion #14 by Brett Pribble

Bar: Independent Bar

Location:  70 N Orange Ave, Orlando, FL 32801

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The Independent Bar, more commonly know as I-Bar, is one of the few remaining old school watering holes of downtown culture. Most venues that the less-mainstream-minded locals frequented closed over a decade ago: Kit Kat Club, The Go Lounge, Knock Knock Bar, Harold and Maude’s. The once popular Matador has now reopened in the Mills 50 area, a part of Orlando many longtime bar hoppers have since jilted DT for. When BBQ bar closed last year (rumored to be reopening on Mills as well), some natives saw it as the last straw; nevertheless, The Independent Bar is still running strong after opening in the epicenter of downtown over thirty years ago.

The first time I visited Ibar it was called Barbarella (The owner recently opened a second club in Austin with the same moniker). While the club has undergone several name and design changes over the years, the spirit remains the same. Unlike most bars, there isn’t a “type” of person you can expect to meet there. Dudes dressed as pirates dance right next to frat boys. Ladies in tiaras celebrate their birthdays across from goth girls covered in tattoos. There is no proper dress code. Want to wear a three-piece suit? Have at it. Feel like just tossing on jean shorts and a tank top? Go right ahead.

Front Bar.

Front Bar.

In the front bar, modern chandeliers hang overhead and copper shoes decorate the back walls. Last Friday, a very amicable bartender named Tia made me a mixed drink, which is pretty cheap if you don’t mind well liquor ($4.50 on most nights).

Tia Serving Up Some Vodka.

Tia Serving Up Some Vodka.

From there I entered a long hallway with couches to my right and a dance floor to my left. This is the main room and one of the only places you can dance downtown without having to worry about someone rubbing their crotch on you.

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The dance floor is lit up by rotating laser lights and giant flat screen TVs that play the music videos of the songs you’re dancing to (Usually. Sometimes it might be just some random ‘80s science fiction flick or a bunch of spinning rectangles).

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Preston was holding down the bar in the dance room. He’s been working at bars downtown for a long time, and he swapped employers and came here after a once novel establishment was bought and turned into commercial garbage. Being served by Preston (and other the congenial staff) is part of what makes Ibar feel genuine. This is where people who actually live in Orlando have gone to party for decades. It’s not some shitty tourist trap in Downtown Disney or Universal CityWalk.

Preston behind the dance floor bar.

Preston behind the dance floor bar.

Upstairs you’ll find more couches and another bar. Lauren was holding it down on this particular evening, and she entitled her bar Lauren’s Lounge on a marker board next to the drink specials.

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Upstairs is a good place to people watch because you can see the entire dance room from there. It’s relaxing to observe patrons swaying to the beat the best they know how. That’s another perk: you don’t need to be a good dancer to feel comfortable dancing in Ibar. The variety of music they play (it’s all over the map) lends itself to just letting loose and not worrying about what you look like.

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If you are hyperactive like me, you’ll appreciate that you can travel through the club in a complete circle and never have to retrace your steps. So, if you’re feeling antsy in one room, you can just stagger over to others until you’ve reached your starting point. The downstairs bar provides a nice place to get away from the noise if you want to have a more intimate conversation with someone. It’s also a good place to go if you’re not in the mood to dance with your friends and just want to chill and drink. It’s like a tiny pub inside a club.

11639727_1140870982594057_1510984167_o

Many longtime bar hoppers will tell you that they are too burned out for Ibar, but if it ever closed their mourning of its passing would be monumental. Ibar is an Orlando staple. For this reason, I think everyone should visit it at least once. Downtown Orlando on Friday and Saturday nights can be a real shit show with drunks everywhere and throngs of honking cars, but you’ll eventually make it to the safe haven of the club. During the week it’s much slower, so you can avoid the masses. The upstairs and downstairs rooms are usually closed during the week, but the smaller crowds free up more than enough space for you to get your drink on.

_______

Brett Pribble

Brett Pribble teaches writing courses in Orlando, Florida. He’s afraid of sharks and often isn’t sure whether or not he’s dreaming. He was previously published in Saw Palm, The Molotov Cocktail, and 10,000 Tons of Black Ink.

In Boozo Veritas # 61: Squirrel Babies of Orlando: Part 2

29 Monday Sep 2014

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in In Boozo Veritas

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baby squirrels, Drunken Monkey, Fallin’ Pines Critter Rescue, In Boozo Veritas, Orlando, Squirrels, Teege Braune

In Boozo Veritas # 61 by Teege Braune

Squirrel Babies of Orlando: Part 2

And now the exciting conclusion to Squirrel Babies of Orlando.

Squirels

When I got back to my house, I was met with a critical situation. Jenn had quarantined the babies in a cat carrier, and while two of them were spunky and active, wrestling with each other and climbing up the carrier’s metal gate, the third had grown weaker, was obviously fading. His nose had not stopped bleeding. He sat in the corner of the case shivering slightly and clearly required the kind of medical assistance neither Jenn nor I was qualified to give. Fortunately, in my absence Jenn had formulated a plan. She had spoken to Shirley at Fallin’ Pines Critter Rescue who emphatically agreed to foster them despite the fact that she was already caring for over seventy orphaned squirrels at the same time. Jenn had met Shirley once before in a similar situation and felt confident in the woman’s nurturing abilities.

As we were pulling out of our driveway, Jenn told me that we had to swing by Drunken Monkey before we could begin the long journey to Fort Christmas in the sticks of rural Florida.

“What in the world is at Drunken Monkey that can’t wait until we get back from dropping off the squirrels?” I nearly shouted.

“You’ll find out when you get there,” she said.

It dawned on me that this must be the surprise to which she had eluded earlier, and as eager as I was to deliver the squirrels unto salvation, I could see that there would be no reasoning with Jenn who was unwavering in her insistence. As Drunken Monkey is only a block from our house, simply indulging her, and getting the chore over with seemed a safer plan than arguing the point. Nevertheless, I had become single-minded and frantic in my mission to rescue the babies, so I was barely considering the possibilities that this surprise might entail.

“Are you coming in?” I asked Jenn as I idled the van in a parking space.

“No, I’ll stay here with the babies,” she said.

“What in the hell am I supposed to do when I go inside? Ask them for my surprise at the counter?” I asked growing frustrated.

“Uh, sure. They know you,” was her cryptic answer.

I flung open the door to my favorite coffee shop and ran straight into the last person I expected to see.

Clasping my shoulders, my dear friend Adam looked me in the eye and said, “I hear there are some baby squirrels that need saving. I’m here to help.”

All this time, unbeknownst to me, Adam was some kind of super hero, and he had flown across the globe from Australia in a moment’s notice for the salvation of three baby squirrels. With this titan among men joining our ragtag expedition, I knew that we could not possibly fail.

“Thank God you’re here!” I said. “Come on, let’s go.”

Adam

Adam.

Back in the van Jenn and Adam were laughing and asking me if I was surprised to see him.

I answered that of course I was, but the truth is I thought I must be dreaming and accepted the entirety of the bizarre situation with the resignation of the lucid dreamer whose dim awareness of reality quickly subverts the delightful illusions until they are conquered by consciousness, washed out completely, and so lost forever. I waited for wakefulness to take Adam, the baby squirrels, and perhaps even Jenn from me as I opened my eyes to discover who knew what other life, but then it occurred to me that I would probably not dream Laura Branigan’s “Gloria” onto the radio, and with that acknowledgment, I returned from my brief and unsettling revelry, my delusion of a delusion, and faced the wonderful knowledge that I was rescuing baby squirrels with not only my fiancé and love of my life, but also a long lost friend who only moments ago I did not know when I would see again. As we drove and joked and reminisced about old times, it was with a shrill heart shattering shriek that the poor, injured baby squirrel reminded us of our mission and purpose lest we forget the lives for which we had taken responsibility.

Fallin’ Pines Critter Rescue lies a clearing dotted by palms and trees laden with Spanish moss. Nothing about its appearance suggest that it exists anywhere near a major metropolis. The simple house sits beside a fenced in garden carved by a winding path, adorned by ponds and flowers, home to many abandoned animals including geese, rabbits, sugar gliders, and even a wallaby. This mini Wonderland is shepherded by Shirley, sometimes affectionately referred to as Squirrely Shirley, and her canine assistant who exhibited a gentleness with the babies that is uncharacteristic of her species. Shirley gathered the tiny squirrels in her cupped palms and held them up at eye level.

“Oh they’re going to be fine,” she said beaming.

We tried to point out the injured baby, to make sure he received extra and immediate care, but as I watched the three of them crawling up and down Shirley’s sweater, nibbling on loose threads, I realized I couldn’t tell him apart from his brother. As though Shirley exhibited a mystical healing touch, the little squirrel was completely revitalized. His nose had finally stopped bleeding and no one would have guessed that only moments ago he was crying out in agony.

“He just needed somebody to love on him… Yowww!!!” She screamed when one of the babies had bitten her ear. At the sound of her yell, the squirrel scurried inside Shirley’s hair.

“That happens,” she said regaining composure. “They’ll try to nurse on anything. Sometimes they come in and their poor, little penises are pink and red because they think they’re nipples.”

We all nodded at this observation pondering its implications.

“Well, I better take these guys inside and get them something to eat.”

Declining our offer of a donation, Shirley turned and walked away. Beside her large auburn ponytail, jutting from her hairline, hung a tiny gray ponytail.

Back in the car Jenn admitted that she hand’t named the squirrels because she would have been too heartbroken if they hadn’t survived the drive to Celebration. We drove back to town as the sun began to set on Orlando, planning our next move. Although Adam was only going to be around for the weekend, and I had to work much of it, we decided to make the most of the time we had. All three of us were ravenous from our adventure, and thought it appropriate to celebrate its success with dinner and libations, so headed to Fuji Sushi, a former staple for us back when Adam still lived in Orlando. We ate green mussels and an unreasonable amount of rolls including one called Aqua Bear, which we ordered simply because it reminded us of the tardigrade, a minuscule creature that can, oddly enough, survive in the vacuum of space, an animal so bizarre its very nature is a testament to the surreality of nature, the dreamy euphoria that is life.

Tardigrade

_______

teegenteege Teege Braune (episode 72, episode 75, episode 77, episode 90, episode 102) is a writer of literary fiction, horror, essays, and poetry. Recently he has discovered the joys of drinking responsibly. He may or may not be a werewolf.

 

Episode 110: Ryan Rivas and Nathan Holic!

26 Saturday Jul 2014

Posted by thedrunkenodyssey in Episode, Flash Fiction, Florida Literature

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Burrow Press, Florida Literature, Jonathan Kosik, Karen Best, Matt Peters, Nathan Holic, Orlando, Ryan Rivas

Episode 110 of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing and literature, is available on iTunes, or right click here to download.

On this week’s show, I talk to Ryan Rivas and Nathan Holic about the publication of Forget How You Found Us: 15 Views of Orlando, Volume III,

Nathan and Ryan

plus I share readings from stories by Karen Best, Matt Peters, and Jonathan Kosik from the collection.

15 Views Authors

TEXTS DISCUSSED

15 Views Volume III

NOTES

Learn about the great youth programs offered by Page 15 in Orlando.

Amazon is having a bad quarter, according to The New York Times.

Next month, Third Man Books, the new print publishing wing of Third Man Records, will release an anthology called Language Lessons, Volume 1.

Quentin Tarantino will be filming The Hateful Eight after all, according to Kurt Russell and the L.A. Times.

Check out the amazing surf rock revival of The Bambi Molesters.


Episode 110 of The Drunken Odyssey, your favorite podcast about creative writing and literature, is available on iTunes, or right click here to download.

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