The Denverse Magazine Summer Issue Release Party 6/26/26

My social anxiety was at peak levels over the prospect of running into an old acquaintance who was recently published in Denverse Magazine’s Spring Issue. I was having bouts of extreme photosensitivity that day and the auras included muscle spasms, diplopia, a rising chest and elevated heart rhythms. I was fucking ready to rock!

I was born for this. I told JP, I bleed for this and truthfully, yea, sitting in the bathroom with all the lights out at 5am, I developed a nose bleed and thought to myself: Is this a sign of the times?

I’d spoken with an employment law firm earlier about an ongoing situation over what I consider was wrongful termination. But as you may have gathered reading previous columns, I'm used to this dance number at this point. Everyone has clearly done their research on how to cover their own ass and maintain the bottom line.

The bottom line is that I needed to get out of the fucking apartment and Denverse Magazine provided me enough motivation with their online presence and previous debut issue to support the idea of stepping out into the sun and making a sojourn through the shaky winds of Denver’s Cap Hill neighborhood. 

Apparently the communal shower/tanning salon has been moved from Wash & Colfax to the alley between Wash & Clarkson.

The FC (fentanyl chaser) Advocacy program set up shop without need for uniform apparel, such as shirts and pants. I’d just got off the phone with Verizon customer support, for the 4th time, trying to resolve the billing issues included with my new Google Pixel 10. All this did not distract from my respect for DM’s Summer Issue, which looks very professional and makes a point to adequately use their ad space for the established sponsors that help bring this important publication to the Metro Area. 

The cravings were very strong... 

***

It's been a minute since I set foot on Market St. for longer than 3 seconds in a clip. There's broken glass and piss stains under my feet before I can make it to the entrance, 3 step stairs and Night Moves by Bob Seger pounding in my raised ears. 

Aaron Springs starts his set with a reasonably unexpected opener: 

I do need to record my sets since my dog isn't jealous. I did find out that my dog has a bad back. We're both addicted to oxys now…

***

Sexy Coyote’s performance was a true highlight of the night, and despite a/v issues the band played on, their lead singer/keytarist at one point championing through the seated crowd and giving everyone a chance to punch the keys. 

I talk about this in my forthcoming interview with Newamba Flamingo, but after SC’s incredible set, I’d taken a phone call during the show that I shouldn’t have taken; being one who loves to overshare, I wanted them to enjoy the experience with me, in whatever capacity that may have been. I stepped outside for a cigarette and we talked about the show, economics, rideshare options and the past…

Unfortunately, I missed out on the rest of the festivities. The party itself was free admission for subscribers and graciously drinks were gratis from Red Rock Spirits and Ratio Brewing Company; even though I was standing while recording sets, and exceeded the MB attachment limit to share video, the plush atmosphere and translucent lighting inside such a great warehouse space made me feel grounded enough to ignore the glimmering of my press pass against my anxiety. 

I should have stayed inside, reclined, kicked back, sipped, and dipped. But, the Strawberry Moon was breathing in my throat and I’d been too hyped about Robert Egger’s upcoming release: Werwulf, due in theaters this Christmas. 

The dogheart comes under duress and panic stricken, I found myself in an unexpected debate with the brain stem on the other line; all relevancy to what was happening in the moment, inside, was eclipsed by what was happening in regards to our mutual grievances. I abruptly hung up and started marching my way further into the underbelly of downtown and by the end of the evening, found myself ravenously kitchen dancing to Lil Baby, Iron Maiden, The Midnight, Emil Rottmayer and more fucking Drake- sharing these songs and way too many details about myself with a woman I’d only spoken to some days before. 

I have embraced single serve relationships in spite of prolonging the inevitable, which is when they see the pupils of my distant eyes are slanted, that my teeth are sharpened to fine points and there is no place where you end and I begin; that logical response systems are offline, the prefrontal cortex has perceived a threat whether real or misconcieved…

The nervous system detects safety and danger through subtle cues: vocal prosody, facial micro-expressions, breath rhythm, and posture. These signals are processed faster than conscious thought and determine whether the prefrontal cortex remains online or deactivates. Repeated unresolved ruptures — arguments that escalate without repair — keep the amygdala on chronic high alert, elevate baseline cortisol, and weaken vagal tone over time. The nervous system learns the relationship is unpredictable. It prepares accordingly. Every subsequent interaction carries that preparation.

-Anxiety Tips Library
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