Rage Against the Dying of the (Nashville) Light.
A non-exhaustive Nashville time change survival guide.
For way too many years in a row, all the worst things happened in October.
I’m talking a steady parade for seven years of medical stuff, breakups, bizarre mental health blips, and an all-around lousy time. It became a running joke in my head. Like clockwork: September would wind down, the leaves would start to turn, and I’d start bracing for impact.
I still feel a little off-kilter when the light changes. Not in an existential dread sort of way, but more like someone moved all the furniture in my house two inches to the left and failed to give me a heads up. I’m vaguely off balance, and I can never nail down exactly why.
I used to really look forward to fall. Growing up, it was the best. Hoodie weather, basketball season kicking off with tournaments every weekend, Halloween, all of it. When I moved to Nashville in 2015, I was hyped to experience my favorite time of year without the relentless Texas Panhandle weather (if you think I’m being dramatic, go for a visit).
Twenty-nine days in, and this October’s been different. One of the best in a while, actually. And with the full dark-by-4pm time change looming, I figured I’d throw together a non-exhaustive Nashville Time Change Survival Guide — the stuff that’s keeping me from getting wobbly as we stare down the pitch-black gauntlet of the next couple of months.
Breakfast Club
Not the movie. My two non-Relay lifelong best friends happen to also live in Nashville. It’s the most over-the-top gift of my adult life, and I try really hard to not take it for granted. We get together on Sunday mornings at whatever shitty diner we agree on (I keep trying to get them to migrate to Brown’s). It fills my tank for the week. Nothing better.
Sevier Park Community Center
My $25-a-month gym is a little janky, sure. But I’ve been going for years, and after being knocked out of rhythm by a new in-office gig, I’m back in it. Yes, it’s fluorescent. At any given time, 15% of the machines are broken. But twenty minutes of free throws after work? Cheaper than therapy.
Embers Ski Lodge
Embers has accidentally (or not so accidentally) become what is essentially a neighborhood sitcom with a rotating cast of characters. Amid the hellscape that is now the 12-South neighborhood, it’s one of the last holdouts. Embers has been the host of friend group birthday parties, wedding pre-games, first dates (and last dates). The day they sell to developers is the day I finally consider making the hop to NYC.
Date Nights @ Xiao Bao
Xiao Bao in East Nashville is the ideal low-stress date night spot — laid-back, upscale diner aesthetic, and I’ve never had trouble grabbing two seats (even on a Friday). It’s a bit of a sleeper pick, but trust me: get the okonomiyaki and the MTLC Jazz. You and your date can thank me later for getting you out of the house.
Warzone (yes, really)
I know. I’m a grown-ass man and this is decidedly not Substack-coded. But that 30-minute window after work, hopping on live with the homies to debrief the day while constantly getting third, is keeping me sane this month.
It’s not that deep, but it is a tiny pocket of structure and connection with friends while screaming about who forgot to plate up. Real emotional intimacy happens in the Gulag.
If I had to sum up the cocktail of things that help me keep it moving during the three months when Nashville morphs into a wet, dark hell, I think it comes down to structure.
There’s this W.H. Auden line I saw on X recently that’s been rolling around my head: “Routine, in an intelligent man, is a sign of ambition.”
I’ll report back if the last two days of October wind up doing me in, but for now I’m in the clear.
Hit me with the routine go-tos that keep you sane in the comments, and rage against the dying of the (Nashville) light. We’ll see you at Embers.
Thanks for reading—or for mega scrolling all the way down here.
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but seriously i run a breakfast club in new york and it is a highlight of my work week.
James are we live