Over the last few years of my life, I’ve been having this reoccurring panic attack about getting older. It wasn’t helped out too much by seeing Jeffrey Lewis and Kimya Dawson for some reason. Standing in a room full of teenage kids, listening to two overgrown kids in their thirties play music and sing playful if sometimes somber songs, made me freak out a little bit, much the way I do pretty much on a weekly basis. It comes as no shock to anyone I am sure that I don’t seem to have a handle too much on this whole adult thing. And that’s kind of what this post is about. Hopefully without getting too graphic or personal. I don’t like getting too personal, though that seems to be the point of this whole writing thing.
I was reminded, a lot recently, of a person I knew when I was younger. Through many weird, reoccurring instances where this boy (now he’s a man I suppose) popped up on the world wide web and in a chance encounter with my mother. I was triggered back, as I usually am when I run into these things in the universe. I dug out some old tapes, some old tapes I find very embarrassing and made them into some digital files so I could send them to another friend (which I haven’t done yet). It made me really really sad. The tapes captured us playing music and we were really really not that good. But I still remember how good it felt and that’s a piece of my life that has been missing for a long long time. I could never really find that piece again. And that bothers the fuck out of me.
So today, as I write this (not when I post this, I future post this stuff) I read a blog post from a friend of mine who lives in California. He is a childhood friend of mine that I had the pleasure of reuniting with a few years ago. I read today that he and his wife are having a baby. A lot of people I remotely keep track of on this internet thing have babies. Many of them are people I probably know more intimately and closely and deeply then this dude. But something about this baby hit me. Now, here in this moment, on this day I feel truly like the cycle is continuing. It probably has to do with the fact that I’ve known this person since I was three years old and even though I moved from California when I was twelve and have seen him only twice in the twenty years since I left the left coast, I see this life cycle now in full. I have this very strong desire to go out and visit him when this child comes and if I can ever reach back up and pull my self back on my horse of this fucking merry go round maybe I will.
So much of this is fueled by anxiety and depression. These feelings that seem so unfamiliar and yet are so prevalent in my daily existence. There is a veil around my life it seems, covering me, coveting me in this state of arrest. I still wear hoodies, the tattoo’s are crawling quickly down my arms, I still believe in the power of punk rock, no matter how much it lets me down. I try to spend as much of time doing the things I have always done, listening to music, writing, day dreaming. Sometimes I feel childish, my interest never really grew, I never really developed as an artist. Or maybe I have and I just don’t have the ability to see it through the veil. Now, it’s just circular thoughts about gender binary, human dominion, passivity vs. violence, and trying to rectify the external with what is really going on internally.
Lately it’s all too overbearing. I spend a lot of time watching TV, daydreaming in front of my computer or looking at statistics of my music listening. I consume too much in terms of bands and songs. I spit out first impression reviews and call it writing. I’ve neglected my novel for over 60 days now. On the other hand, the new Propaghandi album is amazing and Turboslut has released the most important side of vinyl this decade. I’m going to Baltimore this week and despite what is probably really stupid planning on my part I am excited to get my new tattoo’s this weekend on my forearm. Tattoo’s that will effectively seal my fate as a person never to be taken seriously by any one, especially those who hold domain over employment opportunities I may or may not require. I’ll be sure to post pictures and updates.
So here is another whoa is me bullshit post. But this is where we have to go in order to free ourselves and find that voice. I want to make things that make sense to me, that live up to the standards I have. I’m not sure I am setting them high enough. Or maybe I have set them too high (but judging from my obvious lack of grammatical talent and an inability to spell even the easiest words, I doubt it). I don’t really know how to gage such things. I don’t think any level of “sucksess” would ever be satisfying. Any moments of glory I have ever had have fallen short and just driven me to go at it harder. Until I got knocked off the horse recently. But we’ve already talked about that.
Here is to you then dear reader. A chance at reflection and to find some common ground. I’m not aiming at bummersville with this one. I know I seem so over dramatic on this interweb thing. At least that’s how the persona appears to me. Honestly, the new Propaghandi album, Supporting Caste, is playing as I write this and it’s fucking amazing. Life can’t be all that unfortunate. After all they have a song about being vegan and chopping up vegetarians and eating them. Best Canadian Band EVER!
Peace be with you.