It’s been a year plus since I’ve sat here, and it reminds me of how an old jar of pennies smells like blood.
I’ve performed at least if not over 110 punk shows in the last 15 months. I’ve learned how to gear up for on and off stage in about 3 minutes. I can juggle standing in leg braces, playing guitar, singing and wrangling a pint glass of beer to my face with 90% success (so far). I’ve ridden hundreds of miles if not thousands, in a tour van next to a 6 x 3 foot window constructed entirely of shattered glass, cardboard and grey duct tape. I’ve vomited several times in my lap after shows, I’ve also vomited out said van door in an uncontrollable bellowing spill of how “this is what punk rock is, about, and should always be”.
I’ve had copious amounts of alcohol thrown at me, on me, and all over my equipment. I’ve played with numerous acts that if told I’d have gotten to share the stage with 15 years ago, I’d say you were bat shit crazy. I’ve been felt on by women after shows that I knew I’d never see again. I’ve falling in an out of lust more times than surgeries I’ve had – and in relation to, directly or indirectly, I have fallen drunk off the curb into the street at 2:30am on a cold New Years eve in South Texas. I’ve drunk more shots of poor whiskey on stage than that were good for me. I have taken photos with fans in places and wondered “why in the hell are they taking a selfie with me, I smell like ass”. I’ve played arenas. I’ve played house parties. I’ve played on a floor of a bar that slung more meth than Walter White. I’ve been offered every illicit substance on the planet in a bathroom complete with a half-inch of standing water, or piss or a mixture of both. I’ve slept in places, on things that 45-year-old bones shouldn’t be sleeping on.
I’ve been mad at my band mates. I have also known they are the maddest thing for me. I’ve almost collapsed from stage heat, lights, physical exhaustion and a combination of alcohol poisoning. I’ve played sick with the shits, hung over with the shits, with mexican food shits and probably other shits just related to damage to my body over the years. I’ve learned how to find that energy to play one more song when you knew your set was done two songs ago. I’ve gotten to experience the feeling of one person coming up to the stage and saying “man that was great!”, and knowing that even though you weren’t getting paid enough that night, it was well enough now to have gotten to play.
I’m lucky. I’m beat up. I have dreams of kissing old girlfriends at times. I miss a lot of things. I have to scream because it’s all I have. This is probably only half of what I thought to write about. Probably the other half I forgot, or drank, or drowned out, or drowned in.
I think it’s too much for some. And a lot won’t get it. And a lot may get it years after it’s all done. And I guess at that time, then it will be enough.
I lost myself once in a dark room with covered windows and familiar pillows…and it always seemed like the most important things we ever said we’re things that were spoken three inches from each others face. Why that seemed important to me I will never know, I only find it as a constant reminder of how penetrating intimacy can be on a level that only exists behind closed doors.
Run fall, run again. Fall again. Rinse repeat.
When life feels like you are walking backwards, that probably means you are moving in the wrong direction.
There are reasons why you are there, and I am here. Although some people can never look back and see where they have been – I’ve seen enough for the both of us. The rocks don’t even bother me as much, since it has all been a well earned stumble. I wish it would of been easier, for then – and now, for you.
Art by Luis Quiles. Check it.
“If Tom had learned anything… it was that you can’t ascribe great cosmic significance to a simple earthly event. Coincidence, that’s all anything ever is, nothing more than coincidence… Tom had finally learned, there are no miracles. There’s no such thing as fate, nothing is meant to be. He knew, he was sure of it now.” -500DaysOfSummer
“Some people cannot and will not ever end up together, even if they do love each other. It’s a sad truth, but a truth, nonetheless.
“The fact is, love is not enough. All those fairytales, all those stories and movies you’ve heard and watched growing up, lied to you. Love is never enough because love is not rational.”
“Chances are, you both have bruises that have never fully healed and likely will never fully heal. And that’s just something you decided that you’ll have to live with. Why?”
“Because you really don’t have any other options. You just hope that the two of you find others to love so you can think about each other less and so you don’t have to worry about her happiness anymore.”
“You wait in hopes that new love can take the place of the old — which it can. But that doesn’t mean you will ever stop loving each other. Some people will love each other until the day they die, spending the majority of their lives apart. And so is the darker side of love.”
“Each of us is aware he’s a material being, subject to the laws of physiology and physics, and that the strength of all our emotions combined cannot counteract those laws. It can only hate them. The eternal belief of lovers and poets in the power of love which is more enduring than death, the finis vitae sed non amoris that has pursued us through the centuries is a lie. But this lie is not ridiculous, it’s simply futile.”
― Stanisław Lem, Solaris
As I write music I also work with visual designs usually at the same time. It helps me round out ideas, and give more depth to anything I set to publish. Sound is only one-dimensional so in order for myself to achieve the level of emphasis that I think any great story deserves (real or fiction) – eyes and ears are required to write out their own interpretations as they see due.
Above are a few things I have worked with over 2013-2014, some layout compositions and things I may be using with the current CD ‘CoNTrol’. Mostly a tribute to the aforementioned film of course, and all that comes with that.
“I had no hope. Yet expectation lived on in me, the last thing she had left behind. What further consummations, mockeries, torments did I still anticipate? I had no idea as I abided in the unshaken belief that the time of cruel wonders was not yet over.”
― Stanisław Lem, Solaris