A week off doesn’t mean a week off the mic. In this episode, I recap Halloween, talk about KPOP: DEMON HUNTERS, and share what happens when your boss is gone and you decide… maybe you shouldn’t go in either. From spooky season to skipped shifts, it’s another drive full of random thoughts, real talk, and too many tangents to count.

A Halloween morning commute with rain on the windshield and too many thoughts for the early hour. This short drive is more about the moment than the miles — just a few minutes to catch up, share the quiet, and wish everyone a Happy Halloween before the road gets too slick to keep going.

This week on Twenty-One Miles, I talk about everything from Halloween plans to maybe stepping on stage for Willy Wonka Jr. — and somewhere between rehearsals and haunted houses, I unpack my ongoing crypto disaster. It’s a mix of chaos, reflection, and roadside honesty as I try (and fail) to keep things on track. Sometimes the drive home isn’t about the destination — it’s about admitting we’re all just trying to figure it out along the way.

Sometimes the road home takes a detour — this time, straight through six haunted houses. In this episode of Twenty-One Miles, I take a quick break from the usual drive to drop you into the chaos, laughs, and jump scares of a haunted night out with friends. Short, raw, and full of the sounds of October. If you’ve ever lost your voice from screaming or laughed your way through fear, this one’s for you.

After a year off the mic, the engine’s running again. In this first ride of 28 Miles, I talk about why I stepped away, what pulled me back, and what this podcast really is — a rolling reflection from the driver’s seat. It’s not about getting somewhere fast; it’s about the thoughts that show up between point A and point B. Whether you’re driving home, zoning out in traffic, or just trying to move forward again, this one’s for you.

The mic sits still, the room is quiet,
Where once the words would ebb and flow,
A voice that sparked a vibrant riot,
Now gently fades, prepared to go. The episodes, like chapters told,
Have carried thoughts through distant ears,
With laughter, wisdom, stories bold,
Across the months, the weeks, the years. But every journey finds its end,
And now the time has come to part,
To say farewell, like leaving friends,
With gratitude within the heart. The final sign-off, soft and clear,
A closing line, a voice of peace,
No need for sadness, doubt, or fear,
Just memories that never cease. For though the podcast’s tune may fade,
Its echoes linger in the mind,
The stories shared, the moments made,
Will last beyond, a gift enshrined. So with a smile, the host steps down,
The mic unplugged, the journey done,
A podcaster without the crown,
Yet knowing they have truly won.

The lights go dim, the crowd leans in,
A murmur rises through the haze,
Anticipation sparks the din,
Electric nights and wild displays. The amps hum low, the drumsticks tap,
Then suddenly the silence breaks,
A burst of sound, a thunderclap,
The first chord hits, the whole place quakes. The lead guitar screams through the air,
A voice cuts sharp, a primal cry,
The bass drum pounds without a care,
And bodies sway as rhythms fly. The crowd’s alive, a single wave,
A sea of hands that clap and sing,
Each heartbeat echoes, bold and brave,
Each soul takes flight on freedom’s wing. The singer jumps, the stage alight,
The world outside fades to a blur,
Within this space, this fiery night,
The music roars, the passions stir. In every chord, a story told,
In every note, a spirit free,
For in this place, the young and old,
Are one with rock's eternity.

A modern coat for homes to wear,
In sheets that gleam and lines so neat,
Aluminum stands firm and fair,
Against the rain, the snow, the heat. No paint required, no wood to rot,
It wraps the frame in silver skin,
A sturdy guard, without a thought,
Where strength and style both begin. Reflecting sun with subtle gleam,
It holds its place through storm and age,
A simple yet efficient dream,
That shelters us from nature’s rage. The panels click in perfect rows,
A fortress, light yet built to last,
In every breeze, the siding knows,
The secrets of the winds that pass. It does not boast, it does not brag,
Yet there it stands, both firm and proud,
A quiet strength, a humble flag,
Protecting homes through every cloud. So here’s to siding, strong and true,
A gleaming guard that does not tire,
In silver hues or painted blue,
A steadfast wall that won't expire.

A canvas turns with coded hands,
Algorithms brush and blend,
The future wakes to new demands,
As lines of ones and zeros bend. The human touch, once all we knew,
Now meets a force both strange and vast,
Where AI dreams in colors, too,
And learns to mirror what has passed. Will art evolve, or lose its soul?
Can circuits feel, or hearts create?
In this new dance, who takes control?
And where will fate and vision mate? Yet art, at heart, is how we feel,
An essence AI cannot hold,
A journey through what’s true, what’s real,
A story that we each unfold. The brush, the pen, the voice, the song,
May find new paths in what’s to be,
For even as machines grow strong,
The soul remains the mystery. So let them paint, and let them learn,
For art’s a realm both deep and wide,
The future bends, but hearts still yearn,
For what no code can e’er provide.

A world that buzzes, clicks, and swipes,
Where every moment’s on display,
Can pull the mind in endless types,
And steal the calm of every day. The scrolling feeds, the constant hum,
A flood of faces, voices, news,
Can leave the heart and spirit numb,
With truths distorted, lies confused. But there’s a place beyond this noise,
Where stillness waits, a gentle friend,
Away from all the scrolling toys,
Where frantic thoughts can start to mend. So, close the apps, and step outside,
Feel sunlight warm upon your skin,
Let nature’s whispers be your guide,
And let the quiet draw you in. For in the silence, truth is found,
A deeper calm, a breath of grace,
No likes or shares, no chasing sound,
Just you, yourself, in sacred space. Disconnect to reconnect,
With who you are, and what you need,
To find the peace you may suspect,
Is buried in the constant feed.

In every wag, a world of love,
Tallulah brought the brightest cheer,
A gentle soul, like stars above,
Her presence made all shadows clear. Her eyes, a window to the heart,
So full of life, so pure and true,
With every step, she played her part,
In making every moment new. But time, it flows, a river wide,
And though we wish to hold it fast,
The day arrived, the ebbing tide,
Where love must linger in the past. Tallulah’s bark, her joyful run,
Now echoes in the halls of dreams,
Yet in our hearts, she is not done,
Her spirit flows in endless streams. We miss her paws, her gentle grace,
The way she’d greet us with such glee,
But in her place, a warm embrace,
Of memories that set us free. For love like hers, it never fades,
It lives within each tear, each smile,
Tallulah’s light, though heaven’s shades,
Will guide us on, through every mile.

The silver screen once filled with dreams,
Now echoes back familiar tales,
Where once new worlds burst at the seams,
Now sequels sail on well-worn sails. The magic fades, the spark grows dim,
As stories told are told again,
A cycle where the lights grow slim,
And creativity seems to wane. Characters we’ve loved and known,
Are called again to tread the stage,
Yet something fresh, a seed unsewn,
Is lost within this gilded cage. The heart that once made wonders soar,
Now clings to tales that came before,
While somewhere waits an open door,
To lands unseen, to something more. But still they come, the sequels rise,
A shadow of what once was bright,
As fans look on with weary eyes,
For something new to spark delight. The worlds we crave, the tales we need,
Are waiting in the wings, unshown,
Yet Disney’s path, it seems to heed,
The echoes of what’s already known.

With capes unfurled, the legend flies,
A symbol born from ancient lore,
Now under James' guiding eyes,
He soars anew to heights once more. The Krypton son, in shadows past,
Now steps into a light reborn,
His future bright, his story vast,
A hero for a world reborn. With every frame, a tale retold,
Of strength and hope, of heart and might,
Yet something fresh within the fold,
A vision clear, a shining light. Gunn’s touch will craft the Man of Steel,
With humor, heart, and power grand,
A tale where truth and justice heal,
And heroes rise to take their stand. The world awaits this hero’s flight,
A journey set on paths to run,
For in this film, a new delight,
A Superman reborn by Gunn. The skies will part, the stars will gleam,
As he ascends with purpose true,
In every scene, a bright new dream,
Of what our greatest hero can do.

A universe where heroes rise,
And legends weave their fates in time,
From skies above to battles nigh,
Their stories form a grand design. With iron heart and thunder’s might,
The bravest stand to face the night,
A tale of hope, of wrong and right,
In every clash, a spark of light. The webs are spun, the shields are raised,
Through realms of magic, space, and stone,
Each hero’s path, a winding maze,
Yet never do they fight alone. From guardians of distant stars,
To warriors with regal scars,
Their destinies entwine in wars,
That shake the heavens, earth, and Mars. The villains rise with schemes in hand,
Yet always meet the hero’s stand,
In every frame, a world unplanned,
With courage forged in fire’s brand. As credits roll, the story’s sewn,
A universe in every tone,
The Marvel world, where seeds are sown,
For heroes yet to be unknown.

Golden skin, a crisp embrace,
The scent of warmth that fills the air,
A feast of flavors, pure and base,
In every bite, a love affair. The juices run, so tender, sweet,
Each shred of meat, a perfect taste,
From first to last, a purest treat,
No morsel left to go to waste. The crackling skin, a savory dream,
A symphony of roasted bliss,
With every bite, a quiet gleam,
A comfort found in something this. The herbs and spice, the secret blend,
Infused in every golden turn,
A simple joy that knows no end,
A hunger only this can burn. On plates it rests, a sight divine,
The centerpiece of home’s delight,
Each piece a treasure, yours and mine,
A meal that warms the coldest night. So gather round, and take your share,
Of this, the finest, humble fare,
For rotisserie’s tender care,
Is food that’s beyond all compare.

With wide-eyed wonder, lights go dim,
A child’s first step to worlds afar,
The screen ignites, the chances slim,
That life won’t change beneath that star. The opening scroll, a tale unfolds,
Of rebels, knights, and ancient lore,
A universe where courage molds,
The fate of many, and so much more. The Force awakens in their eyes,
As battles rage on distant moons,
A symphony of blaster cries,
And heroes facing countless dunes. Lightsabers clash in sparks of light,
The child sits still, their breath held tight,
In every scene, their heart takes flight,
With every twist, they see the fight. The battles end, the credits roll,
But something stirs within their soul,
A hunger born, a tale untold,
For more of what these stars behold. They close their eyes, the dreams begin,
Of epic quests and journeys grand,
For in that film, a world within,
Has sparked a flame they’ll understand.

Where turquoise waters kiss the shore,
And golden sands stretch far and free,
Cozumel sings, a tale of yore,
A paradise where hearts run free. The coral reefs, in colors bright,
Beneath the waves, a world untold,
A dance of fish, in purest light,
Where secrets of the deep unfold. Palm trees sway in gentle breeze,
Their shadows paint the sunlit earth,
A tranquil hum, a life at ease,
Where every moment finds its worth. The sunset spills in hues so warm,
A canvas of the sky and sea,
As night descends in softest form,
The stars above, a canopy. The island whispers ancient lore,
In every breeze, in every tide,
Cozumel’s charm, forever more,
A beauty that will not subside. From Mayan ruins standing proud,
To vibrant streets where cultures blend,
Cozumel’s soul speaks clear and loud,
A place where hearts and nature mend.

Beneath the sky where waters gleam,
A ship of plenty rides the waves,
With every taste, a gourmet dream,
In endless rows that foodies crave. The tables groan with bounty spread,
From dawn to dusk, the feast remains,
A symphony of scents is led,
By chefs who craft in grand domains. Buffets stretch far, like oceans wide,
With fruits and sweets in colors bold,
Where hunger finds no place to hide,
As platters gleam with gems of gold. From breakfast’s light to midnight’s call,
The plates are filled with every fare,
A banquet in each grand dining hall,
Where every bite’s a taste of care. Exotic dishes, comfort’s friend,
Entice with flavors, rich and deep,
The endless bounty seems no end,
A food lover’s most treasured keep. And as the ship sails on its course,
The feast aboard, a voyage too,
A journey through the senses’ source,
Where every meal is something new.

With trembling hands, the cover lifts,
A world within, once kept so close,
The ink-stained secrets, heart’s small gifts,
Now shared where only silence grows. Each word a whisper, soft, discreet,
Each line a thread of buried pain,
But courage drives these fragile feet,
To let the sunlight touch the rain. The pages turn, a life exposed,
A soul laid bare in every phrase,
The highs, the lows, the fears enclosed,
Now rise to meet the world’s gaze. What once was hidden, locked away,
Finds freedom in the light of day,
A voice that dares, no longer stray,
As shadows of the past give way. The world leans in, a breathless hush,
To hear the truths once left unspoken,
And in the sharing, comes a rush,
A bond unbroken, newly woken. The journal speaks, no longer bound,
By fear or doubt, or quiet shame,
For in its pages, now profound,
A life’s true essence finds its name.

In the quiet where the echoes sleep,
A voice once lively took its rest,
Its stories paused, in silence steeped,
As listeners yearned, their patience pressed. The mic stood still, the scripts untouched,
No laughter, wisdom, or debate,
Yet in the void, a bond was clutch'd,
The promise that they’d soon relate. The world spun on, but something lacked,
A rhythm missed, a beat off-track,
Yet hope remained, intact, unslack'd,
For whispers of a grand comeback. Then came the day, the static broke,
A spark, a hum, a well-known tone,
The voice returned, its presence spoke,
No longer was the night alone. With every word, the stories flowed,
Familiar, yet with newfound grace,
A journey shared, a path bestow’d,
As time and space embraced the pace. The listeners gathered, far and wide,
To greet the voice that dared to roam,
A podcast back, with tales supplied,
In every ear, it found its home. So welcome back, oh cherished sound,
We missed the warmth your words bestow,
In your return, our hearts are bound,
To the stories only you can sow.