nowhere hour is a blog by sam griffen. if you hate it, he is sorry.

I'm Paying For This, Like An Idiot

I'm Paying For This, Like An Idiot

Hey. I started a blog. That’s right - I’m one of those people now. A Blog Person. A Blogger. Pretty soon, you might catch me saying things like “Hey, did you check out my latest blog post?” or “Why haven’t you texted me back since I started my blog?” or perhaps “Sorry, I can’t make the open casket, I have to finish watching an episode of short-lived ABC sitcom ‘Better Off Ted’ for my blog.” You know, all the classic phrases.

My hope is to make this a place where I publish essays, stories, doctored photography, sandwich recipes, commercial reviews, rankings of the types of sedimentary rocks, and other engaging content with vast demographic appeal. I spend a lot of time working on my laptop, and as a card-carrying member of the Easily Distracted, I fully understand that without an outlet for my creative endeavors I’ll end up wasting my day making nonsense like this:

Fortunately, now that I have a public vessel for this shit, my standards should skyrocket and you will never have to experience an atrocity like this image again. Yep - I promise you, loyal reader, that NOWHERE HOUR will only get better from here.

I guess I’ll take a minute to explain the title of the blog, because in looking at the Shyre Fest picture again I’m remembering that I need to add those stupid white dome tents, and I’d rather not get sucked into that right now. The term “nowhere hour” refers to the time I spent as a child, teen, and young adult, lying wide awake in bed in the middle of the night, coping with jet lag. My family spent our summers flying from Japan, my adopted home, to the U.S., my legal home, and on those trips I was regularly forced to grapple with time zones and pesky circadian rhythms at a way-too-young age.

This “nowhere hour” - the period when the mind is wide awake and, say, contemplating a ramen lunch 6000 miles away in Roppongi, but the body is captive in the eerie silence of rural Michigan - is what made me decide to start writing in the first place. On the nights when I was meant to be readjusting to Eastern Standard Time by “becoming tired,” I was instead consuming all the precious TV that I couldn’t access in Japan - cartoons, late night talk shows, new movies, fucking HBO, dude - while contemplating my route into the entertainment world. Then, whenever it was finally dark enough in The Far East for me to fall asleep in the Midwest, I laid down and thought about jokes. And stories. And future photoshop opportunities that could blend a best-selling fantasy book series with an infamously disastrous music festival. You know, all the classic thoughts.

I believe everyone experiences their own version of the NOWHERE HOUR - when your brain is marinating in silence and time feels unconquerable - but these moments don’t always have to be lost. Hopefully, by sharing pieces from my own nowhere hour, I can help yours go by a little quicker.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go figure out a way to get Peter Jackson and Ja Rule in a room together.

When I Think About Football, I Think Maroon 5

When I Think About Football, I Think Maroon 5