Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. A lot. Actually, I don’t believe in “sins” or “the Father”. At all. I think the Big Bad Wolf and Scooby Dumb have more relevance. Just needed a first sentence to get the gears turning again.
Maybe it’s because it’s been over a year since my last “confession”. I visited my old Blogspot and Tumblr pages earlier tonight and remembered what a fuck filled rollercoaster I’ve been on since April of 2009, or February of 1982 if we’re REALLY keeping track here. But are we? Who the hell cares? It feels as though the only things that HAVEN’T changed about me are that I still bleed for music, wish Freddy Krueger was real, and have late night cravings for chocolate milk. Other than that, seems like it’s all different now. I was reading those entries from a year ago and realized how much I talked about change, courage, freedom, independence, and the heart. So why am I sitting here a year later with a lot of the same feelings and questions? Probably because I’ve gone through more changes and life decisions in one year than most people do in a lifetime. Have others in my life? Absolutely, and likely even more so. But I’ve always thought narcissism tastes best for breakfast, lunch, AND dinner. Sue me. I’ll at least show up for court and piss all over your argument. All I can afford to do anyway. Lawyers cost money, and I have about as much of that these days as Jersey Shore has intelligence. This is my blog anyway. So fuck off and start your own if you feel like venting. Take a born creature of habit, give him nothing but 28 years of change, and watch the fuck out. Keep him away from sharp objects. Even plastic ware can be dangerous ‘round these folks. I’ve read reports.
So here goes: And by the way, if you’re still reading you’re either wholeheartedly interested in me, bored out of your mind, or gave me birth. Hi, Mom. May even break this down into a clusterfucked timeline of the highlights to save us all a lot of….well….time. Hell I’ll even paraphrase. Wouldn’t want you reading all night. Probably a more entertaining sitcom on right now. Welcome to the department of redundancy department:
Feb ‘82 - Apr ‘09: Southern Ohio, happy childhood, MTV, With or Without You by U2 made me cry in the backseat of my parents’ car, realized music was all that mattered and everything else was secondary, took “The Joshua Tree” on vinyl to preschool show and tell because of that car ride, grade and middle school, sucked at and hated sports, felt first boob on school bus to 6th grade camp, worshipped Metallica, The Beatles, and Michael Jackson, virginity lost, first guitar, first cigarette, first beer, Parents divorce at 12, joint custody, domestic violence, Mom’s creepy redneck boyfriends/husbands, Dad’s shallow and materialistic trophy wives, parties, crappy death metal garage band, countless live shows seen, 616 Undone, Black Flag, Slayer, rebellion, high school, shitty girlfriends, Glassjaw, Far, moved to Columbus, countless hours of rehearsals and time in recording studios from this point on, Me Times Ten, gigs, death of Grandpa, Foo Fighters, learned to play bass for Kobrakhai, gigs, 107 E 11th Ave on campus, Delaware, OH for a girl, House of Free Love, ForTheDrive, gigs, joined cover band to make extra money and sharpen chops, gigs, The Nerve, personal guests backstage at Quicken Loans Arena in Cleveland with Matchbox Twenty, Alanis Morisette, and Rolling Stone staff because The Nerve were “the next big thing” Rob Thomas was signing. Engaged, thought life was figured out, dumped, suicide attempt, 3 days in psychiatric ward, Rob’s label folds and there is no record deal, rebirth.
Apr ‘09 - present: Lived in best friend’s sunroom, re-invented self…again, as many one night stands and girls in life as Richard Pryor had jokes, fired from job and death of Grandmother on same day, met girl with daughter, fell in love with both of them but was equally as terrified of a domesticated life, daughter’s Father passed away, watched her hurt, toured the Midwest with This Day Forever, slept in van a lot and woke up in many Wal-Mart parking lots and truck stops, shitty gigs, slept on lots of floors, played for attorneys with Josh Lane in Nashville (specifically the one who manages Kurt Cobain’s estate and negotiated the release of Nirvana’s “You Know You’re Right”), tried moving to California, drove there from Ohio alone for 3 days, spent a few days in LA, saw everything I saw on MTV as a child, stood in front of Freddy Krueger’s house at 1428 Gennessee Ave, drank at the Rainbow and Viper Room, found self back in OH less than a month later after another 3 day drive with everything myself and former best friend (Josh) own packed into my Hyundai Elantra, re-united with girl and daughter, moved in with them, they helped make me a better person, lost two best friends (Josh and Chris) because Josh is reckless, a user and Chris is spineless (Yes. Saying this publically.), re-joined cover band for money and chops, lived in the past a LOT, became a Father figure in a sense, started over…again, took job at collection agency with shit pay just to pay for a phone, car, and insurance, joined yet another band called The Garrison, girl gave me courage to write my own record instead of being everyone’s bass player, plan to record it in Feb’ of 2011.
Narcissitic? Life story? Sure. Call it what you want. But tell me I haven’t tried? Eat shit and die. My own record coming this Spring. I might be a nobody, but I’m not done yet. Sleep well, die trying, I don’t care which. Determination is for dinner this year, and I’m fucking starving.
