Scott Carnahan
Bio
Cameras by trade, writer by plight. A story obsessed thunderstorm junkie armed with a journal and fueled by music. | Denver, CO ⛈🏜🏔✨
scottjcarnahan.com
Stories (13)
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The Medicinal Value of Camping Alone.
The headlights died as I clicked the engine off. Leaning forward, confirming the darkness, a whole slurry of doubt came flooding into my mind. Alone? In the wilderness, that is absolutely crazy. My friends’ responses now making sense: Why? How are you going to pass your time? What if something goes wrong?
By Scott Carnahan5 years ago in Wander
Lurking in the Neon
It is 3:45 in the morning, in that special West Hollywood club that keeps the dance floor open all night. Men dancing on men, girls flirting with girls, and all the straight people there just trying to score. Bros proud to pick up girls at a gay bar, girls combing the sand for boys to make out with. People looking for people, and this is the hour of desperation. Desperation or unbridled pleasure, if you’re not in the dead heat of a grind on the dance floor you’re searching for prey.
By Scott Carnahan5 years ago in Humans
Fuck You In Particular, Valentines Day.
Its a Sunday night bar pushing closing time, a bitter reminder of the inevitability of the blizzard outside. Spilled throughout the joint is a wide spectrum of Valentines playing out. A dry-humping couple; a young man with a rose in his breast pocket, frown on his face; singles, floating in the sea of the dance floor grab hold to each other like life preservers.
By Scott Carnahan5 years ago in Beat
The Road to Paradise is Paradise.
Red lights for miles, stuck in traffic. One of those lovely days. I’m tired, hungry, and the last ten hours were a complete regression of the last seven years. Seven years, time slips so fast and these moments only make it worse.
By Scott Carnahan6 years ago in Wander
The Neon Travelator
Hey. I saw you today. I know you saw me too. I’m sure O’Hare International was the last place you ever expected to see me. How cinematic to see an old friend on a neon lit moving walkway? Was your flight at C18? If so, that was my plane. I always leave my boarding pass in the pocket, hoping to spur a coincidence.
By Scott Carnahan6 years ago in Humans
