Monday, July 4, 2011
'merica
Just finished watching Beyonce Knowles sing Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA" on the Macy's 4th of July special. The song was dedicated to "the men and women fighting for our freedom"; watching this brought back weird memories of being my son's age at the start of the first Gulf War. We lived in Louisiana, and the song came out to match the war. We would be forced to stand up and sing the song, and if we didn't, we would get in trouble.This made me think about how absurd the idea that our soldiers are "fighting for our freedom". No they aren't, they are fighting for the interests of the military industrial complex. How did the Iraqi's challenge our freedom? How exactly are a bunch of opium farmers and nomadic herds people in Afghanistan a threat to us? Whose interests are we supporting in Libya? There were revolutions happening all over the middle east, what is so special about Libya? The terrorist organizations that plan and plot attacks against this country cannot be beaten and contained by full scale war. And our wars only fuel the fire that threatens our country. There are movements in America that claim to represent the wants and wishes of our founding fathers......they need to read their history books again. In so many ways, we are moving backwards in America not forward. Our founding fathers wanted progression, their movement was a progressive movement, not a call to conserve the old ways of thinking. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.......these of course aren't automatic for every American, but every day, the interests of the super rich, corporations, and imperialists in the government make it harder for Americans to attain these precious goals. I also watched another channel tonight, playing the movie "The Battle for Seattle", a fictionalized movie, but based on the actualities of that event. The battle for Seattle was when peace and labor protestors in Seattle protesting the
WTO were attacked by police and the national guard, at the behest of those more interested in the benefit of the ultra elite. So on this 4th of July, after you celebrate and have fun, it would be great if you took a moment to wikipedia some of the things mentioned, and inform yourself so that you can form an opinion; it's when we stop paying attention that the termites eat your house form the inside out.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Sunday, May 29, 2011
"Armed with a mind!!!!" Have Heart, I wish I could have seen them before they broke up
Saturday, May 28, 2011
"Life only starts when resistance to our vulnerability ends" Greg Bennick, some thoughts, and a re-post from Greg Bennick of Trial (Thanks Greg!)
"Life only starts when resistance to our vulnerability ends"
This is a quote from a piece Greg Bennick of Trial (Please, if you are not familiar with Trial, they were/are everything that was right about hardcore in the 90's, they are a classic now, you should know of them)wrote recently about their performance at this year's Rain fest. Their performance was scheduled to coincide with the anniversary of the death of their bassist and friend, Brian Redman, almost to the minute! Trial is a powerful band with a powerful message, and the sincerity of their message and love for humanity, animals, and the earth is true and real, with out pretense. Hardcore changed my life, completely.I found straight edge and Hardcore at a time in my life when I truly NEEDED it. Hardcore is a different form of art and culture than almost any other.Hardcore is a way of thinking, a way of living, a confrontation on a personal and mass level, through the power of music and art, of the world's ills and injustices; and a confrontation of the ills inside yourself.
So with that being said, and with permission from Greg Bennick of Trial, I want to post his message about Rain Fest and the significance of this culture to him.
Reflections on the Trial set at Rain Fest
"How did it go?"
That text came in at 2:30AM last night from someone in my life who has never been to a hardcore show, someone I met only recently with whom I had shared about the music, the band, our history, and the meaning of it all. How was I to respond in one text? How was I to describe how it went?
At first, I thought about saying "Wait til I write about it...so much happened." More could be said about the show last night than could ever fit into one note, one post, one text, one telling of the story. Because there were eight hundred versions of the story from last night, one from each person who was there and all completely valid. Where would I fit in the part about the kid who flew from Georgia to see the band who was so excited afterwards to say hi, or the part about the girl who simply said "thank you" to me afterwards with a depth of sincerity and heart in her eyes that came from the level of the soul. Where would I put in the part about what it felt like to play without Brian Redman our bassist who died twenty months, almost to the hour, before the set last night. And where would I fit in the part about how wonderful it was to play with Roger Kilburn, our new bassist, and his courage for stepping up to play with and to fully be a part of the band. Where would I describe sharing the stage with Rosie McPherson, Brian's mother. Or with Jake Conroy, devoted activist for free speech, animal rights, and trusted friend who shared inspiring and powerful words with the audience about solidarity and community in the face of the loss of our most basic civil liberties. Where would I put a description of love and respect for my band mates, with whom I share one heart and a singularity of passion and focus. Somewhere in the midst of that writing I would also have to make reference to every person in the room and hear what each of them felt and thought, and talk about the fest itself and how much work went into making this weekend happen, and somehow then reference all those who we miss so much who couldn't make it to the show, and then talk too about what it meant to me to play, to speak, to share.
But the question remains. "How did it go?"
How it went can be summed up in one experience that most of the people there weren't aware of. After the set a guy walked up to me and leaned in close to say thank you. As we embraced, he spoke to me and said, "Two of my friends died this morning in Iraq. I have been sober for years, and tonight all I was going to do was go home and get drunk. But coming here instead and seeing you guys made me realize that I want to keep my heart strong and stay clear and focused."
And in that moment is the answer to the question of what happened at the show last night. Drinking, and my personal feelings on it aside, what that moment was about is the courage in that young man's heart to look into the face of life, and of death, and be fully present. Present to the pain. Present to his fear. Present to those who survived who live on. He came into the show as one person, and was leaving as another person. That transformation was entirely his doing. Trial was simply the soundtrack, and everyone in the room supporting players to the story.
Hardcore at its best when it is filled with unbridled passion, energy, ideas, action, motion, intensity, and love. It looks like a room full of people losing their minds and hearts. It looks like bodies colliding and fists flailing. It sounds like a freight train colliding with a hurricane, plus guitars and screaming. At its best, hardcore hurts and thrives and feels like pure fire. But at the center of it all, when it all comes down, hardcore is about life. Its about what we feel and how the music and the experience of being a part of it guides the course of our lives as a result. In those moments of playing, life happens. That has always been the goal, to have that be true. Its not just screaming for the sake of words being shared. Its not about just jumping around. Its about feeling so deeply that its undeniable and about sharing sincerely even when we are terrified to do so. Its about connecting with others even though it feels safer to be alone, to be distant. Its about challenging ourselves to be a part of something, a part of other people, to give ourselves to others and to share and connect as if our very next breath depends on the ability of those around us to inhale and feel alive as well. And this happens on the scale of the room yes, but ultimately, hopefully, it happens one on one. When we can look another person in the eyes and share something, feel something, understand something together, we have crossed the greatest of distances. And to do so takes courage. To be in the moment. Without the patterns we live with. Without the armor we wear. Without the fear we often maintain.
Life only starts when resistance to our vulnerability ends.
So when that guy had the courage to feel, to connect, and then spoke to me last night, the entire essence of the band, of the show, of the night came into focus. The legacy of Brian Redman. The reason behind Rainfest. The motivation to do this band. One person, affected at the level of the heart and mind to the point where his life was changed. That is real. That is hardcore. That is Trial. That happened because of all of us.
And that, my dear friends, whom I respect so much and thank so deeply for being a part of last night and for all Trial shows yet to come, is what happened last night at Rainfest, at the first Trial show back in a very long time.
That, is how it went.
The above video is from the Burning Fight book release show, and the beginning always gives me goose bumps, our local friend, John Wheeler was there working the show that night, and said the intensity was amazing. I bet :)
Thank you again Greg, I hope you get a chance to see this.
Unrestrained by Trial
the wreckage of humanity has been strewn across the land
and now the hour of desperation is at hand
we the maggots feed off the dead seeking solace in a bed of broken glass
we bleed infected water beneath bright skins of polished steel
through empty, yearning, starved and frustrated hearts
which long for risk and reason
this is a standard and sterile half-life to lead
empty facades conceal slow decay
within these new dark ages which breed discontent
to give up all hope to see the dawn
reveals a victims face beneath the veneer
struggling to show that it's been wronged
led astray by the myths of the Father
with ancient wounds often ignored
fighting for scraps from the table while we slowly rot on the floor
struggling for balance amid these unholy lies
reflecting terror and chaos
we are born into suffering
with constructs icons, idols, and eyes
which manifest and forecast our fear of our own demise
but on the eve of the apocalypse
you can burn these words into my flesh:
“we are tortured and insane disillusioned and mundane
unknown and unnamed desperate and enslaved
and we want something more”
as an aside, last night, my twin brother, who lives in Los Angeles, was attacked by strangers when he was walking home, they tripped him then repeatedly kicked him, breaking his nose. This beating ironically happened 17 years to the day of the most violent night of our lives as kids (there is a blog below about that night). The world is sick and broken, hardcore works because it is made up of individuals (for the most part) that are compassionate and have mutual respect for each other.Imagine if the world worked that way? Take the lessons of Hardcore, and apply it to your life, and the world will start to slowly change.
"Hierarchy, dominance and submission, repression and power - these are facts of everyday life. Revolution is a process, and even the eradication of coercive institutions will not automatically create a liberatory society. We create that society by building new institutions, by changing the character of our social relationships, by changing ourselves - and throughout that process by changing the distribution of power in society. It is by the constant building of new forms of organization, by the continual critical evaluation of our successes and failures, that we prevent old ideas and old forms of organization from re-emerging."
- Carol and Howard J. Ehrlich
This is a quote from a piece Greg Bennick of Trial (Please, if you are not familiar with Trial, they were/are everything that was right about hardcore in the 90's, they are a classic now, you should know of them)wrote recently about their performance at this year's Rain fest. Their performance was scheduled to coincide with the anniversary of the death of their bassist and friend, Brian Redman, almost to the minute! Trial is a powerful band with a powerful message, and the sincerity of their message and love for humanity, animals, and the earth is true and real, with out pretense. Hardcore changed my life, completely.I found straight edge and Hardcore at a time in my life when I truly NEEDED it. Hardcore is a different form of art and culture than almost any other.Hardcore is a way of thinking, a way of living, a confrontation on a personal and mass level, through the power of music and art, of the world's ills and injustices; and a confrontation of the ills inside yourself.
So with that being said, and with permission from Greg Bennick of Trial, I want to post his message about Rain Fest and the significance of this culture to him.
Reflections on the Trial set at Rain Fest
"How did it go?"
That text came in at 2:30AM last night from someone in my life who has never been to a hardcore show, someone I met only recently with whom I had shared about the music, the band, our history, and the meaning of it all. How was I to respond in one text? How was I to describe how it went?
At first, I thought about saying "Wait til I write about it...so much happened." More could be said about the show last night than could ever fit into one note, one post, one text, one telling of the story. Because there were eight hundred versions of the story from last night, one from each person who was there and all completely valid. Where would I fit in the part about the kid who flew from Georgia to see the band who was so excited afterwards to say hi, or the part about the girl who simply said "thank you" to me afterwards with a depth of sincerity and heart in her eyes that came from the level of the soul. Where would I put in the part about what it felt like to play without Brian Redman our bassist who died twenty months, almost to the hour, before the set last night. And where would I fit in the part about how wonderful it was to play with Roger Kilburn, our new bassist, and his courage for stepping up to play with and to fully be a part of the band. Where would I describe sharing the stage with Rosie McPherson, Brian's mother. Or with Jake Conroy, devoted activist for free speech, animal rights, and trusted friend who shared inspiring and powerful words with the audience about solidarity and community in the face of the loss of our most basic civil liberties. Where would I put a description of love and respect for my band mates, with whom I share one heart and a singularity of passion and focus. Somewhere in the midst of that writing I would also have to make reference to every person in the room and hear what each of them felt and thought, and talk about the fest itself and how much work went into making this weekend happen, and somehow then reference all those who we miss so much who couldn't make it to the show, and then talk too about what it meant to me to play, to speak, to share.
But the question remains. "How did it go?"
How it went can be summed up in one experience that most of the people there weren't aware of. After the set a guy walked up to me and leaned in close to say thank you. As we embraced, he spoke to me and said, "Two of my friends died this morning in Iraq. I have been sober for years, and tonight all I was going to do was go home and get drunk. But coming here instead and seeing you guys made me realize that I want to keep my heart strong and stay clear and focused."
And in that moment is the answer to the question of what happened at the show last night. Drinking, and my personal feelings on it aside, what that moment was about is the courage in that young man's heart to look into the face of life, and of death, and be fully present. Present to the pain. Present to his fear. Present to those who survived who live on. He came into the show as one person, and was leaving as another person. That transformation was entirely his doing. Trial was simply the soundtrack, and everyone in the room supporting players to the story.
Hardcore at its best when it is filled with unbridled passion, energy, ideas, action, motion, intensity, and love. It looks like a room full of people losing their minds and hearts. It looks like bodies colliding and fists flailing. It sounds like a freight train colliding with a hurricane, plus guitars and screaming. At its best, hardcore hurts and thrives and feels like pure fire. But at the center of it all, when it all comes down, hardcore is about life. Its about what we feel and how the music and the experience of being a part of it guides the course of our lives as a result. In those moments of playing, life happens. That has always been the goal, to have that be true. Its not just screaming for the sake of words being shared. Its not about just jumping around. Its about feeling so deeply that its undeniable and about sharing sincerely even when we are terrified to do so. Its about connecting with others even though it feels safer to be alone, to be distant. Its about challenging ourselves to be a part of something, a part of other people, to give ourselves to others and to share and connect as if our very next breath depends on the ability of those around us to inhale and feel alive as well. And this happens on the scale of the room yes, but ultimately, hopefully, it happens one on one. When we can look another person in the eyes and share something, feel something, understand something together, we have crossed the greatest of distances. And to do so takes courage. To be in the moment. Without the patterns we live with. Without the armor we wear. Without the fear we often maintain.
Life only starts when resistance to our vulnerability ends.
So when that guy had the courage to feel, to connect, and then spoke to me last night, the entire essence of the band, of the show, of the night came into focus. The legacy of Brian Redman. The reason behind Rainfest. The motivation to do this band. One person, affected at the level of the heart and mind to the point where his life was changed. That is real. That is hardcore. That is Trial. That happened because of all of us.
And that, my dear friends, whom I respect so much and thank so deeply for being a part of last night and for all Trial shows yet to come, is what happened last night at Rainfest, at the first Trial show back in a very long time.
That, is how it went.
Trial (Full Set, original mix) from hate5six on Vimeo.
The above video is from the Burning Fight book release show, and the beginning always gives me goose bumps, our local friend, John Wheeler was there working the show that night, and said the intensity was amazing. I bet :)
Thank you again Greg, I hope you get a chance to see this.
Unrestrained by Trial
the wreckage of humanity has been strewn across the land
and now the hour of desperation is at hand
we the maggots feed off the dead seeking solace in a bed of broken glass
we bleed infected water beneath bright skins of polished steel
through empty, yearning, starved and frustrated hearts
which long for risk and reason
this is a standard and sterile half-life to lead
empty facades conceal slow decay
within these new dark ages which breed discontent
to give up all hope to see the dawn
reveals a victims face beneath the veneer
struggling to show that it's been wronged
led astray by the myths of the Father
with ancient wounds often ignored
fighting for scraps from the table while we slowly rot on the floor
struggling for balance amid these unholy lies
reflecting terror and chaos
we are born into suffering
with constructs icons, idols, and eyes
which manifest and forecast our fear of our own demise
but on the eve of the apocalypse
you can burn these words into my flesh:
“we are tortured and insane disillusioned and mundane
unknown and unnamed desperate and enslaved
and we want something more”
as an aside, last night, my twin brother, who lives in Los Angeles, was attacked by strangers when he was walking home, they tripped him then repeatedly kicked him, breaking his nose. This beating ironically happened 17 years to the day of the most violent night of our lives as kids (there is a blog below about that night). The world is sick and broken, hardcore works because it is made up of individuals (for the most part) that are compassionate and have mutual respect for each other.Imagine if the world worked that way? Take the lessons of Hardcore, and apply it to your life, and the world will start to slowly change.
"Hierarchy, dominance and submission, repression and power - these are facts of everyday life. Revolution is a process, and even the eradication of coercive institutions will not automatically create a liberatory society. We create that society by building new institutions, by changing the character of our social relationships, by changing ourselves - and throughout that process by changing the distribution of power in society. It is by the constant building of new forms of organization, by the continual critical evaluation of our successes and failures, that we prevent old ideas and old forms of organization from re-emerging."
- Carol and Howard J. Ehrlich
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Chugga Chugga
To shut an open society to no uncertain fate
An end result of the merging of the corporation
And the state...
Bleeding us...
Bleeding us to death
With no one to turn to and nowhere to run
Hold on tight because the worst is yet to come
Create the threat... a terrifying act of violence
Control the press... to program mass compliance
Empower the police, soldiers patrol the streets
Random detention and release target activists and put them on a list
One day we'll all be terrorists
As we descend... to the depths
As we descend... of the past
As we descend... to the next chapter of fascism now
...and they start coming for you
First they came for the outcasts and I didn't speak
Because their reasons for fighting I just would not believe
Then they sent us to war and still I didn't speak
As all these people were dying based on lies and deceit
Then they shut down the protests, limit freedom of speech
Does anyone even notice when history repeats?
With no one left to keep fighting, you ask, "What can I do?"
When no one's left to speak up and they start coming for you
I can't stand when political hardcore purists refuse to give "tough guy hardcore" it's due, dirty kids in living room shows are never going to change someone's mind about the world, but a band like First Blood, with cross over appeal, can.Plus they rule.
Monday, May 23, 2011
"I tried hard to have a father, but instead I had a dad"
The title is a quote from a Nirvana song, but it's also a decent preface for this blog. If your reading this because you are curious about the "incident" at the Fake Problems show (which was awesome BTW, they are now in my top 5 best live bands of all time list that I have in my brain), I'll get to that later in this piece, because in a strange way, it's related.
Most people have bench mark times in their life,times and events that change them profoundly. Mine would be the day I married Brett; the day I found out I was going to be a dad, the day Noah was born, 9/11/2001, the day Gwendolyn was born, the day I knew I was going to graduate with my degree, the day I passed the NCLEX and became an RN.........but the most significant event before that was May 28th, 1994. Around this time every year since then, I start wondering about my dad, I didn't even realize it until Brett asked me what was making me think about him so much. That day was a like being awake in a nightmare.
The night of 5/28/94 my twin brother Adam and I were babysitting our little brother Scott and little sister Kelley while my parents went out to an office party. Things had been very tense that spring, my parents' marriage was on the rocks, they had had a violent fight earlier that month, and there was definitely a feeling of anxiety constantly in the house. Big fights were not that abnormal, truthfully my dad had always had a terrible temper and been verbally and physically abusive, but that spring things were definitely different. So anyway.....around 11pm or so my parents got home, Adam and I went out to go meet them, and we could hear arguing from the garage. They opened the door from the garage to the laundry room that connected to the kitchen, came out into the kitchen, I could smell the heavy smell of alcohol on my dad. My mom came up to give me a hug with her big warm smile, turned towards my dad, and he punched her in the face. Adam and I went running to our room, terrified, we were only 13, and in an instant, our whole world fell apart. I remember lying in our bunk beds, silent, so scared that I felt like I was floating out of my body, listening to screaming and cursing, the sound of things smashing, the sound of my 6 foot 2 dad hitting my 5 foot 2 mom. I remember feeling ashamed of how scared I was, I remember wanting to kill him. Around 2 am he pulled me out of my room, screaming at me to "get that cunt" out of her room. The living room and kitchen were torn apart, pictures were smashed, and there was blood on the wall. I don't remember what I said to my mom, but I do remember telling my dad I wasn't going to try to get mom out of the room, and kicked at me and I ran back to my room, wondering why the police weren't coming. They showed up a little after 3 am.The rest is a blur. But I do remember thinking that this was going to be the end of what I thought our life was supposed to be. At the time we were living in an expensive house in a gated community, my dad was/is a hotel executive; by the end of that year my dad had declared bankruptcy, we got hosed financially, mom and the 4 of us had moved into a condo with 2 rooms and a den that the 3 of us boys slept in.We had went from upper middle class relative comfort to poverty, depression, and government peanut butter and cheese(let me tell you, you don't forget the day government cheese and other charity food shows up at your door).My intelligent,funny,sweet ex-hippie mom had turned into a broken mess(at least for a time), I don't blame her,if I were her, I would have to. All the things I thought my life was going to be were gone.1994 was also the year that I really discovered punk rock. Music had always been a refuge from the abuse and angst at home (my mom tried to shelter us, but my dad's temper was horrific and monstrous, she did the best she could), but Punk Rock became more than music, it was my stability, giver of core values, and center of personal determination and strength. Punk bands sang about the world around them, the plight of the weak, social and political injustice, and belief in yourself. In punk rock, I found an underground community of kids that were coming from fucked up backgrounds like me. Kids that were smart but angry, but smart enough to know to channel their anger, angst, sadness into art that was productive and progressive.We were forgotten kids that wanted to be heard.The anger/angst/sadness of growing up in an abusive environment made me more sensitive to the plight of others and more empathetic to the hurt others felt. It influenced my choice of personal culture, sense of right and wrong, stances and beliefs that would become a part of who I am. Punk Rock and the activism attached to it were my first conduit to try and make a change in a world that I knew all too well was cold and callus. That later was channeled into a career I almost stumbled into, nursing. I wanted a career where I could make a living and support my family, but also one in which the work I did was important and could change the world in a positive way. I wanted to help people escape their own pain and suffering.
So, the thoughts of my dad, the where's and why's, are somewhat amplified recently.
"The world of animation as art and Classic Disney Cartoon characters. Architecture. Open beach and waterfront environments. American history and politics.Religion and our place in the cosmos. "
This is from his linkedIn page that I googled. He actually sounds kind of like a neat person to get to know. There is more about him as a person here, in a paragraph, than I ever even knew about him growing up as his son. Over the last few years, we had started to connect again, I was finding myself able to forgive him. We had meet ups with our familiy's( he is re-married with a son the same age as Noah, round 2 I guess)that were enjoyable; and I was starting to get to know him, and like him, as a person.Then around Xmas 2010 he started to become distant again, when I called him for the holidays, he sounded annoyed and definitely just wanted to get off the phone. In May of last year I called him to let him know that I had graduated, he was drunk (I guess he drinks a bit?), and later forgot about the conversation, telling Adam that I never talked to him. I then later find out that he had lost his job and relocated,to where and to what, no one knew.I didn't call,email, send a letter, anything, just disappeared.I found out a bit later that he and my mom were going to court, she was trying to recoup years of unpaid alimony. I knew he had moved to Missouri to work for a resort, that's it. I thought maybe he just didn't have a way to get a hold of me. Then today I googled his name. His facebook page and linkedin page are the first two things to come up, then some hospitality industry newsletter stuff. I used to search facebook a couple of times a month to see if he was on there, then I just stopped. I spend quite a bit of time on there, I'm not hard to find, I was a word search away, and he has made no effort what so ever to reach out.I'm a father, my wife and children are the most precious thing in the world to me, I would die a thousand deaths for them. To my dad I'm an old memory, an after thought.
threw you the obvious and you flew
with it on your back, a name in your recollection,
thrown down among a million same.
difficult not to feel a little bit disappointed
and passed over
when i've looked right through
to see you naked and oblivious
and
you don't see me.but i threw you the obvious
just to see if there's more behind the eyes
of a fallen angel,
the eyes of a tragedy.
here i am expecting just a little bit
too much from the wounded.
but i see through it all
and see you.
so i threw you the obvious
to see what occurs behind the eyes of a fallen angel,
eyes of a tragedy.
oh well. apparently nothing.
you don't see me.
you don't see me at all.
This song kind of sums up quite a bit for me, I get a little emotional every time I hear it.
So what does this have to do with Saturday's show and the incident? During Fake Problems set, Casey Lee's little mom was up at the front of the stage, watching her son play and have a good time, when this big 6'4 douche starts pushing her to get up front, they start arguing, and every one near is just standing there watching this big dude bully a little itty bitty lady. I jump in to try and calm the guy down,he stinks of alcohol and kept saying "yo, is she fucking serious? She doesn't talk to me like that" I tell him "calm down man, you're huge, and she is this little lady that just wants to watch her son play some music, calm down". He puts his fist up like he was going to hit me, and I pushed it down and said, "no, that's not happening, calm down" and he just goes "what ever man, what ever". I went back to behind the stage to watch FP play, glancing over every now and again, and he definitely is still trying to crowd her space, but nothing else, so I let it be. Not like I'm the only dude able to do anything, but now I now am a part of this in a small way. The set finished, the FP's start an encore song, then I hear a scuffle, look over, and Casey's mom's boyfriend i son the ground with the same dude fighting to get the guy off of him, the guy had aparently started all over again. By that point, I'm pissed, and it's time to get this guy out of the room. A bunch of people pull them apart, he starts again, so I grab him and start marching him to the exit, telling him "you're done, it's over, you're out of here". Half way out the door, he throws himself on the ground, and won't get up.Now I'm furious and starting to feel a little berserk, I call it battle mode, haha. I scream at him, "fuck you, get the fuck up", then I picked him up from under his shoulder and neck and start pulling him toward the door, he starts to grab at me and tries to hit me, so I put him in a strangle and start to close off his carotid arteries to knock him out, he goes limp,but at this point I'm in nutso viking mode, and I pulled my arm around and started crushing his trachea. I WANTED to hurt him at that point. I'm a little ashamed of that now, but this mother fucker came into a venue that is some what sacred to me, a punk rock venue that was our scene's home for almost ten years, ruins a night that was nothing but feel good, and gets violent with a mom 4 times smaller than him. So at that point Kyle Hook stops me and goes " dude, he's turning blue", I stop (because honestly, I was furious, but I didn't want to kill the guy, plus he just got tossed around like a bitch by some one shorter than him, man-handled, choked out, thrown out of the show AND lost his shoes, he later gets arrested, it's most likely one of the worst nights of this losers life), Kyle, John Wheeler and others all start to carry him out from there and throw him out, he later gets arrested and a nice mug shot the next day on the NDN web site.Now, I don't think I'm some sort of tough guy or de facto security guard, bu tI just CAN'T handle watching some one be violent towards a women, especially not this little lady whop reminds me quite a bit of my mom.
So in the end, I guess I should thank my dad for fucking up our lives when we were young enough to help me become a better person, father, and husband than he could ever be. I'll always have an empty spot in me though.One thing is for sure, my son will know that his father cares about him and loves him.
Most people have bench mark times in their life,times and events that change them profoundly. Mine would be the day I married Brett; the day I found out I was going to be a dad, the day Noah was born, 9/11/2001, the day Gwendolyn was born, the day I knew I was going to graduate with my degree, the day I passed the NCLEX and became an RN.........but the most significant event before that was May 28th, 1994. Around this time every year since then, I start wondering about my dad, I didn't even realize it until Brett asked me what was making me think about him so much. That day was a like being awake in a nightmare.
The night of 5/28/94 my twin brother Adam and I were babysitting our little brother Scott and little sister Kelley while my parents went out to an office party. Things had been very tense that spring, my parents' marriage was on the rocks, they had had a violent fight earlier that month, and there was definitely a feeling of anxiety constantly in the house. Big fights were not that abnormal, truthfully my dad had always had a terrible temper and been verbally and physically abusive, but that spring things were definitely different. So anyway.....around 11pm or so my parents got home, Adam and I went out to go meet them, and we could hear arguing from the garage. They opened the door from the garage to the laundry room that connected to the kitchen, came out into the kitchen, I could smell the heavy smell of alcohol on my dad. My mom came up to give me a hug with her big warm smile, turned towards my dad, and he punched her in the face. Adam and I went running to our room, terrified, we were only 13, and in an instant, our whole world fell apart. I remember lying in our bunk beds, silent, so scared that I felt like I was floating out of my body, listening to screaming and cursing, the sound of things smashing, the sound of my 6 foot 2 dad hitting my 5 foot 2 mom. I remember feeling ashamed of how scared I was, I remember wanting to kill him. Around 2 am he pulled me out of my room, screaming at me to "get that cunt" out of her room. The living room and kitchen were torn apart, pictures were smashed, and there was blood on the wall. I don't remember what I said to my mom, but I do remember telling my dad I wasn't going to try to get mom out of the room, and kicked at me and I ran back to my room, wondering why the police weren't coming. They showed up a little after 3 am.The rest is a blur. But I do remember thinking that this was going to be the end of what I thought our life was supposed to be. At the time we were living in an expensive house in a gated community, my dad was/is a hotel executive; by the end of that year my dad had declared bankruptcy, we got hosed financially, mom and the 4 of us had moved into a condo with 2 rooms and a den that the 3 of us boys slept in.We had went from upper middle class relative comfort to poverty, depression, and government peanut butter and cheese(let me tell you, you don't forget the day government cheese and other charity food shows up at your door).My intelligent,funny,sweet ex-hippie mom had turned into a broken mess(at least for a time), I don't blame her,if I were her, I would have to. All the things I thought my life was going to be were gone.1994 was also the year that I really discovered punk rock. Music had always been a refuge from the abuse and angst at home (my mom tried to shelter us, but my dad's temper was horrific and monstrous, she did the best she could), but Punk Rock became more than music, it was my stability, giver of core values, and center of personal determination and strength. Punk bands sang about the world around them, the plight of the weak, social and political injustice, and belief in yourself. In punk rock, I found an underground community of kids that were coming from fucked up backgrounds like me. Kids that were smart but angry, but smart enough to know to channel their anger, angst, sadness into art that was productive and progressive.We were forgotten kids that wanted to be heard.The anger/angst/sadness of growing up in an abusive environment made me more sensitive to the plight of others and more empathetic to the hurt others felt. It influenced my choice of personal culture, sense of right and wrong, stances and beliefs that would become a part of who I am. Punk Rock and the activism attached to it were my first conduit to try and make a change in a world that I knew all too well was cold and callus. That later was channeled into a career I almost stumbled into, nursing. I wanted a career where I could make a living and support my family, but also one in which the work I did was important and could change the world in a positive way. I wanted to help people escape their own pain and suffering.
So, the thoughts of my dad, the where's and why's, are somewhat amplified recently.
"The world of animation as art and Classic Disney Cartoon characters. Architecture. Open beach and waterfront environments. American history and politics.Religion and our place in the cosmos. "
This is from his linkedIn page that I googled. He actually sounds kind of like a neat person to get to know. There is more about him as a person here, in a paragraph, than I ever even knew about him growing up as his son. Over the last few years, we had started to connect again, I was finding myself able to forgive him. We had meet ups with our familiy's( he is re-married with a son the same age as Noah, round 2 I guess)that were enjoyable; and I was starting to get to know him, and like him, as a person.Then around Xmas 2010 he started to become distant again, when I called him for the holidays, he sounded annoyed and definitely just wanted to get off the phone. In May of last year I called him to let him know that I had graduated, he was drunk (I guess he drinks a bit?), and later forgot about the conversation, telling Adam that I never talked to him. I then later find out that he had lost his job and relocated,to where and to what, no one knew.I didn't call,email, send a letter, anything, just disappeared.I found out a bit later that he and my mom were going to court, she was trying to recoup years of unpaid alimony. I knew he had moved to Missouri to work for a resort, that's it. I thought maybe he just didn't have a way to get a hold of me. Then today I googled his name. His facebook page and linkedin page are the first two things to come up, then some hospitality industry newsletter stuff. I used to search facebook a couple of times a month to see if he was on there, then I just stopped. I spend quite a bit of time on there, I'm not hard to find, I was a word search away, and he has made no effort what so ever to reach out.I'm a father, my wife and children are the most precious thing in the world to me, I would die a thousand deaths for them. To my dad I'm an old memory, an after thought.
threw you the obvious and you flew
with it on your back, a name in your recollection,
thrown down among a million same.
difficult not to feel a little bit disappointed
and passed over
when i've looked right through
to see you naked and oblivious
and
you don't see me.but i threw you the obvious
just to see if there's more behind the eyes
of a fallen angel,
the eyes of a tragedy.
here i am expecting just a little bit
too much from the wounded.
but i see through it all
and see you.
so i threw you the obvious
to see what occurs behind the eyes of a fallen angel,
eyes of a tragedy.
oh well. apparently nothing.
you don't see me.
you don't see me at all.
This song kind of sums up quite a bit for me, I get a little emotional every time I hear it.
So what does this have to do with Saturday's show and the incident? During Fake Problems set, Casey Lee's little mom was up at the front of the stage, watching her son play and have a good time, when this big 6'4 douche starts pushing her to get up front, they start arguing, and every one near is just standing there watching this big dude bully a little itty bitty lady. I jump in to try and calm the guy down,he stinks of alcohol and kept saying "yo, is she fucking serious? She doesn't talk to me like that" I tell him "calm down man, you're huge, and she is this little lady that just wants to watch her son play some music, calm down". He puts his fist up like he was going to hit me, and I pushed it down and said, "no, that's not happening, calm down" and he just goes "what ever man, what ever". I went back to behind the stage to watch FP play, glancing over every now and again, and he definitely is still trying to crowd her space, but nothing else, so I let it be. Not like I'm the only dude able to do anything, but now I now am a part of this in a small way. The set finished, the FP's start an encore song, then I hear a scuffle, look over, and Casey's mom's boyfriend i son the ground with the same dude fighting to get the guy off of him, the guy had aparently started all over again. By that point, I'm pissed, and it's time to get this guy out of the room. A bunch of people pull them apart, he starts again, so I grab him and start marching him to the exit, telling him "you're done, it's over, you're out of here". Half way out the door, he throws himself on the ground, and won't get up.Now I'm furious and starting to feel a little berserk, I call it battle mode, haha. I scream at him, "fuck you, get the fuck up", then I picked him up from under his shoulder and neck and start pulling him toward the door, he starts to grab at me and tries to hit me, so I put him in a strangle and start to close off his carotid arteries to knock him out, he goes limp,but at this point I'm in nutso viking mode, and I pulled my arm around and started crushing his trachea. I WANTED to hurt him at that point. I'm a little ashamed of that now, but this mother fucker came into a venue that is some what sacred to me, a punk rock venue that was our scene's home for almost ten years, ruins a night that was nothing but feel good, and gets violent with a mom 4 times smaller than him. So at that point Kyle Hook stops me and goes " dude, he's turning blue", I stop (because honestly, I was furious, but I didn't want to kill the guy, plus he just got tossed around like a bitch by some one shorter than him, man-handled, choked out, thrown out of the show AND lost his shoes, he later gets arrested, it's most likely one of the worst nights of this losers life), Kyle, John Wheeler and others all start to carry him out from there and throw him out, he later gets arrested and a nice mug shot the next day on the NDN web site.Now, I don't think I'm some sort of tough guy or de facto security guard, bu tI just CAN'T handle watching some one be violent towards a women, especially not this little lady whop reminds me quite a bit of my mom.
So in the end, I guess I should thank my dad for fucking up our lives when we were young enough to help me become a better person, father, and husband than he could ever be. I'll always have an empty spot in me though.One thing is for sure, my son will know that his father cares about him and loves him.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
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