The year is 2017…

I lie in a hammock strung between two palm trees, eyes fixed on a burnt horizon. The fronds above me sway in a carefree breeze offering relief from the sun. A cold beer tilts in my hand, pulled to my lips whenever the urge arrives. It’s the paradise I pictured every day between cold calls at the centre. But I am in hell.

I moved halfway across the planet chasing peace and realised that day I would never find it, until I earned it. And so it began: my pursuit of The Hammock.

A fortnight ago, I attended my first Gamblers Anonymous meeting in a decade. The regret of my ten year hiatus was overwhelming. Where would I be, had I not jumped bail? Could have been Prime Minister or given cancer a good seeing to, but I devoted my life to accumulators. That’s why I am here. My only motivation in exposing my ugliest secrets is to offer something to the world I wish had existed when my troubles began, so anyone out there asking themselves the worst questions will know they are not alone.

My intention is to give an honest, chronological account of my descent into gambling madness. Playing poker for half a million dollars, too stoned to see. Awakening from a blackout drunk Christmas Eve, unaware my entire bankroll was gone. The sports betting that drove me insane. The borrowing. The lies. Then life as a runaway in a surfing mecca, as I attempted to claw my way out.

There will be no weekly sales pitch. No verbose emails offering three tips to inner peace. Just a link to a new chapter detailing how I set my world on fire and, later, life in Bali sifting the ashes for something worth saving. You’d be surprised what survives the flames.

Perfect light entertainment for your morning shit.

Cheers,

Jimmy.