View From The Middle: Young Vs Old (inspired by a haiku)

"Getting old is trying to remember when everything was glowing ,shiny and new . And having no sympathy for those who still do..." Charles Vick Duncan 11/12/2013

A  former friend that I now cannot stand, posted the above piece on Facebook sometime back. Rather poetic, he referred to it as a haiku. I supposed it made sense to me up to a point, but after a couple minutes of pondering it and throwing it around in my head I can't help but ask myself, would the young (if that's who he was referring to) come to the old looking for sympathy if everything was so glowing, shiny and new? And at the same time why would they expect sympathy? Not that the so-called "old" would necessarily be unsympathetic, However one has to consider that the old were at one time young, shiny and glowing themselves and have by, chance, luck, fate, good fortune or whatever the case may be, have managed to make it to the point of being old, and there's also the possibility that at some point in this period of age that they've witnessed the foolishness and risky behavior that comes with youth and with no ill will or bad intentions, simply meaning to warns of potential perils of said risky endeavors and only to be told to "fuck off old man/woman! You don't know what you're talking about, how could you know, you're just a stupid old man who couldn't possibly know fun and adventure of the young!" (keep in mind I know this isn't the way that young people talk but it basically IS the way their minds perceive the old) From that point, both go their separate ways, the young one feeling smug in youthful ignorance, the old one feeling indifferent in his wisdom knowing that time will catch up with with all. 

There's a popular catch phrase that's been around through the decades and popular with the rebelious "FTW!" (Although it's come to my attention recently that FTW no longer stand for "Fuck The World", the new generation has taken it upon themselves to change it to "For The Win". Gross...) types that goes, "Live fast, die young, leave a pretty corpse!" Well, that's a myth, or in other words, complete and total load of shit. First of all, there's no dignity in death. When young people die, it's usually of unnatural causes, particularly when said young people are the type to spout of stupid fucking sayings like the one mentioned. Those kind of "live fast" deaths are usually and statistically murders, suicides, drug overdoses, car accidents, alcohol poisonings and other "glamorous" things like that. Take Elvis Presley, only 35, fat, naked and bloated on the toilet. Ever seen the post-mortem pics of Marilyn Monroe with her saggy purple face? If you haven't it's all on the internet and easy to find, they were far from pretty and that's the point I'm trying to make, all that nonsense is just a buncha yap spewing out of the hole from some drunken, insecure, neurotic, over-payed rock star who's living a lifestyle that you will probably never EVER be able to afford. On a personal level I can only guess since I'm not quite there yet, but the simple reality of it all, is not so much that the old have lost the ability to see life as glowing, shiny and new, it's just that they see life on a much broader level and have come to appreciate every single second of it. (BTW, I'm not delusional, I know there's some bitter old fucks out there!) They know that their time on this mortal coil isn't long and I don't know for sure, but once again I can only guess that perhaps they've either come to terms or are starting to come to terms with that as well. I know that everyone's experience is different and I hate to generalize, but I'm pretty certain that none of them are gonna have much sympathy for some cocky youngster mouthing off to them one minute than looking for sympathy the next when life throws them a fucking curve ball.

 As far as my own outlook on this subject matter goes, as far as what todays youth is calling "glowing shiny and new", I'm sorry, but I beg to differ. Sorry kids, but you either need to try harder or at least stop trying to take credit for it. Everything I see the younger generation (those 15-25 years my junior) is pretty much the same shit my generation or the generation before me invented only this new generation went and gave it a new stupid name (like "twerking" for example), or they've stolen, recycled or played "mix and match" and created all these lame and generic sub genres and took the most corny and cliche aspects of the old stuff and made it even more corny and cliche. To me it's really hard to not feel nauseous and embarrassed for them, and I hate to say it but it's gotten to the point with me to where I almost can't stand to be around anyone under 25 these days. Other than that, I actually enjoy being older and am really grateful that I got to be young in the time period that I was young in, Something that I've had todays youngsters actually tell me they envy... Now that's fucking trippy, but at the same time, still gives me a little hope in a strange kinda way. Anyway, Thanx for the inspiration Vick, cheers ya fucking loser!

A Dream

I had originally composed this back on January 8th of 2012 and posted it on my Facebook page. It was during a brief time that I recall having a series of really strange and bizarre dreams but this one I managed to gather my wits in time and jump out of bed and compose it before it faded away. I recently pulled it from the archives of my Facebook page and read it to my mother about a week and a half ago and decided to transfer it to this website, with a little grammatical and punctuational editing 

"I just woke up about 20 minutes ago and was having this dream. I'm gonna try and remember as much detail as possible:

I was at a funeral here in Albuquerque with my mom. They were burying two different people in the same grave. I suspect that I knew who they were but don't recall exactly who. I remember one casket being loaded into the ground and pallbearers carrying the next casket to be placed in the same hole. My grandmother was there too. I remember peering into the hole before the 2nd casket was to be placed into it. It turned out though, that this grave was merely an opening, that this grave was actually like a giant underground family crypt or mausoleum and after the caskets were placed into it we all entered it through this separate entrance. There were other people in there, as in people that were in attendance at this double funeral. I went in there with my mom. My grandma had already gone down there before us. Everything was seemingly normal and people were just quietly chatting among themselves. My mom confirmed to me that it was an old final resting place of the family that had been around for years. It was very large and cavernous with two large sections and one small one. There was other caskets and containers (assuming that they contained ashes) everywhere, not exactly cluttered but not exactly organized either. I remember walking around exploring and looking at everything, wondering who these people(the deceased) were. I don't recall reading any names that seemed familiar. As I was exploring, no one seemed to be paying me much mind. I remember being tempted to open random caskets just to peak at who was in them and see what they looked like but I didn't though. At one point I wandered over and sat near to where my mom was chatting with someone. Suddenly to my left, there was a little pudgy girl that was looking at me kinda angrily. She said to me, "I hate you!" in a bratty, little girl kinda way. I wasn't scared, just kinda surprised I guess... then she was gone and there was a man and this woman who I wasn't familiar with but I'm assuming we were related somehow (by the way, everyone there, I assume I was of some relation to only I wasn't familiar with anyone other than my mom and grandma). They were tending to a glass box which contained the well preserved remains of the same little girl I had just encountered! They seemed sad as they were dusting it off. They were talking to me but I don't recall what they were saying. I remember I really felt for them, so much that I hid my face in a nearby curtain and began to weep. After that I noticed other containers that had old black and white portraits of whoever's (I assume) remains were in them. They were kind of odd shaped, like nothing I've seen before. I wanted to go look at them but my mom was saying something to me, what, I don't know, I wasn't really paying close attention, distracted by the portraits. There were names and dates on some of the containers but I don't recall what any of them said...

It was at this point that I started to wake and the dream faded away. This was one of the most fascinating dreams I've ever had! It wasn't a nightmare at all. I know it sounds kind of morbid and creepy and I could see how others might see it that way, but it wasn't scary. I awoke feeling peaceful, not to mention, SO intrigued by it! This is something I want to remember, which is why I'm taking the time to transcribe it at this time. There's still many small details in it but I'm trying to rush through this before things fade away."

Music, rebellion, shock value:ABQ

Rebellion comes in many forms and there are numerous ways to go about it and express it when you're young. One of the most common ways is through music, which is one that I embraced whole heartedly. I feel fortunate that I was around in a time when the concept of "shock value" still had an impact in American society, and with me living in a place like fucking Albuquerque, NM  in the 1980s, where exposure to things like punk rock was limited and more underground. Basically it was here, you just had to try a lot harder to find it, and if you found it, and you flaunted it, you had to expect a pretty extremem recation probably even more so then the meccas where much of the stuff was being produced.

For me , it all started in the summer of 1980 when my 14 year old uncle Frankie came to stay with us and introduced me to a band  called AC/DC, who's singer Bon Scott had just died after a night of heavy drinking and had been replaced by a new singer and just released a new album called "Back In Black" that was about to sell millions. Along with that album, he had gotten me into "Highway To Hell" as well as some of their other albums. He also introduced me to a band called Van Halen and another called Pink Floyd, although I was never a big fan of Pink Floyd, I do think that "The Wall" is a great album, both musically and conceptually. I also got to see both AC/DC and Van Halen in concert a few years later, both were amazing! I should mention, I've seen thousands of concerts and shows since my first and to this day, Van Halen with David Lee Roth in 1984 ranks in the top 5 best performances I've EVER seen!

So anyway, although I've listened to music pretty much all my life, I would mark that summer of 1980 as the starting point of where my own personal exploration began. Looking back, I realize that many of the bands that I was drawn to had a tendency to have a certain quality about them, something that stood out, whether it was visually or lyrically or something in their music. I was 12 years old, I remember waking up one morning watching MTV before school with my younger brother when Motley Crue's "Live Wire" video came on. I remember thinking the song fucking rocked, and the visuals were awesome, but who the fuck were these guys?!? or girls?!? Motley Crue ended up becoming one of my favorite bands down the road. Same year I saw that Crue video, Ozzy bit the head off that bat, needless to say, I was intrigued! 

Yeah, the early to mid 1980's were a great time for shock value in music. Parents, schools and religious figures were freaked out by it, it was pretty awesome, and the bands seemed endless, with Motley Crue, and Ozzy, and Twisted Sister, WASP, Iron Maiden and their scary dead Mascot "eddie",  and they all wore black leather and studs and spikes and scary make up and looked tough and did crazy outrageous shit, it seemed like an endless list! Then something happened... They all went soft... they all went "bitch" it seemed... It was like when it was time to put out new albums they all came back wearing pink and white lace ensembles, fluffy teased hair, singing love ballads... And yeah, all the hot heavy metal rocker chicks were creaming their panties over it, and a good chunk of the once cool rocker scene was following suit because of that, but basically shit got fucking LAME!!! However, I did notice that there was a few of us left that were still wearing our denim vests and not really hanging out with these with these teased headed poseurs so I started hanging with them, and got introduced to the early music of Metallica and Slayer(Both bands 1st albums are my faves by them) back when they were just getting started, as well as Exodus, Destruction, Kreator and Overkill. I started flirting with some of the total satanic metal stuff of Mercyful Fate, because, musically it was really good, but mostly cause I really enjoyed the shock value aspect, I mean it would freak people out, haha! I remember one time, I was bored in math class and I was sitting their writing the lyrics to one of their songs down and my teacher snatched it out of my hands thinking I was writing notes and in an attempt to embarrass me, began reading it aloud in front of the class, needless to say, he didn't get too far before he stopped reading it and left me alone, hahaha!

The problem with the Satan metal thing was it got old pretty fucking fast. Actually, in retrospect, a lot of the metal thing, or maybe it was just the people I was around, were starting to suck, or maybe a combo of both, but regardless, as far as the Satan metal thing, realistically, I couldn't relate. I mean, none of that stuff, demons, brimstones, bloody crosses, etc., had anything to do with my day to day existence. And these singers, with their voices, if I was to meet them and they introduced themselves and their voice sounded like that, you know, all loud, deep, evil and scary, then sure okay, legit, but chances are they sounded more or less like me. 

Fortunately around that time, I was living on the border of two different school districts, and on weekends, I'd hang with my friend Eric who was really into thrash metal and hardcore punk. He went to another school but lived just a couple blocks away. Eric had an amazing record collection and would introduce me to all these great bands. We'd pretty much just listen to records, drink beer and sometimes go to parties. Eric's turned me on to a lot of great bands including punk rock, although he preferred bands on the more thrashier side of things like the DRI's and MDC's, but he took me to my first punk rock shows. He didn't care much for too punk bands that weren't super fast (there were exceptions of course)so I was on my own as far as anything less than DRI speed, but Eric was a good guy nonetheless. I had gotten pretty bored with metal by 1986, like I said I just couldn't relate. I had shaved off my long hair and was hanging out one day and I met a girl name Suzie with a blonde mohawk. We hung out for a little while and she gave me a D.O.A cassette and when I played it later, the first song I heard was the song, "Fuck You", and I have to say, from that moment, I was "officially" sold on punk. I finally found what I'd been looking for, the singer sang with a voice that sounded real, with lyrics that I could relate with, with music that fucking rocked and made me wanna tear shit up! Yeah, I'd been dabbling with and exploring punk for about a year, but yes, I was sold, and D.O.A. is still one of my favorite bands and I've been fortunate enough to see them a few times and good lord, I've been in and around this hardcore punk scene for almost 30 years now...

Is it still rebellion? Toward the society and the system, not so much. I've learned to choose my battles, and that's a lost cause. Most of my rebellion these days is usually directed toward my peers and that's when I can even be bothered. I like to see it more as "constructive motivation" when it come to them and calling them on their bullshit.

Is it still shocking? Depends on where you are. At the same time it's not that important to me either, I can take it or leave it. I will say one thing though. Today's youth that try to recreate do a really shitty job of it

"Congratulations"? WHY?!?

Most people that know me know that I'm once again on the road of alcoholic recovery. As of this writing, (okay typing) I hit the ten month mark yesterday. I've been posting it on my Facebook page pretty much on the 5th of every month since I've started doing this, mostly to keep track of it, and my plan, as long as I decide to stay sober, is to make two more posts, and that's it the for the rest of the year. For the most part, my reasons for posting it are mostly just to keep track of it and to serve as a reminder of where I'm at and how far I've come since this whole mess came to a head last summer, but that's a whole other story and I have other blogs about all that stuff, which leads me to the point and title of this one...

Here's the thing about my monthly anniversary posts. While I don't mind feedback or words of encouragement or whatever the case may be, the one word that irritates the piss outta me and I really wish I didn't wait this long to address this, is the word, "Congratulations"! Seriously?!?

I've never understood that one. I almost immediately delete anyone's comment, I don't give a shit who it's from, that posts that as a comment. I mean why? I was a belligerent drunken fucking lunatic and I literally came a day short of killing myself with liquor! Okay, lets say 10 months ago I slit my wrists, and I posted on my Facebook page that it's been 10 months since I refrained from attempting to slit my wrists, would you congratulate me for that too? Seems a little twisted right? Or what if I was a abusive spouse and I hadn't beaten my wife in ten months and posted that, would that earn me some congrats as well? How about if I was a pedophile or an axe murderer or a frat boy date rapist, or the president of fucking North Korea?!? 

It really makes absolutely no sense to congratulate an alcoholic for not drinking, and you're certainly not gonna get a "thank you" outta me, especially when you make me uncomfortable and fidgety with an with inappropriate word regardless of your heart being in the right place. 

Thing to remember about those posts, and fortunately, only two more to come and then after that only once year if I even remember (I'm getting old, senility can kick in any day now), is I post them mostly for my own benefit, I'm not looking for any kind of praise whatsoever, and I don't mind feedback, both positive and negative, and if they actually inspire you, that's awesome but lets save the "congrats" where it's appropriate, like graduations, child births, divorces, etc...

Have a great day!

So I Take The Bus...

Due to both legal and medical reasons, I am no longer allowed to operate a motor vehicle till at least mid August of 2013 and now rely on the bus to get me around the city. The legal situation started last summer when I was involved in a DUI accident and had my licence revoked, yet continued to drive anyway, despite the warnings from others. Yes, I was well aware I was pushing my luck regardless of the fact that I had since, quit drinking and was and still am completely sober, but the fact remains, that anything can happen and there's still no short supply of other assholes on the road, but I did the best I could to stay aware and be extra vigilant. Unfortunately for me, just after hitting the six month sober mark, a neurological condition that I had been diagnosed with as a teen that had been dormant for over two decades came back with a vengeance, sending me into seizures every five minutes for 36 hours straight and hospitalizing me for five days and pretty much throwing my whole world into upheaval after it was finally over. So I'm back on meds now to keep them under control and I can't drive for six months from the day since the last seizure. My family stepped up and drew the line on that one, took the car keys, so yeah... Coincidentally, the six month point of the last seizure lines up with the time frame that my licence revocation period ends as well.
So anyway, about the bus. Public transportation isn't a totally new thing to me, in fact I used it often when I lived in the bay area. I rode my bike a lot, but I also got around just fine on the BART(the regional light rail/subway system) and bus on both sides of the bay when I lived in San Francisco, Oakland and Berkeley, and even when I moved down south to Santa Cruz, I made use of the bus system for a time till I got a bike then eventually got my shit together enough to purchase a car, which in  Santa Cruz was more of a necessity to a certain degree, to where Oakland/SF it was  more "optional".
My first few days using the bus system in Albuquerque were interesting in an observational sort of way. First of all, I hadn't ridden a bus in ABQ since I was in high school, and even then, I can't recall ever riding past west of Wyoming Blvd. I also noticed a strange and unexpected sense of freedom as well. What I mean by that is since I'm not the one behind the wheel, the traffic, the gas prices, insurance, maintenance sorta stuff doesn't really concern me. I just sit there and look out the window and watch for my stop. I should also mention that my probation officer has me in mental health counseling twice weekly and they provide me with free bus passes so I ride free of charge, it's awesome! I've only been riding the bus here regularly for just over a month now, in that time I've had some drunk smack me on the shoulder cause he didn't like my jacket. It was pretty comical actually, I could have easily gotten up and beaten the living shit out of him but I let it go. Another time, the first time I rode the 66 line, the Central bus, it was pretty much what I expected, a scraggly drunk passenger of indeterminate age (he told me a few blocks later he was 29) immediately plopped down in the seat next to me and introduced himself and told me how annoying he was being to the other passengers. I peered over his shoulder and seeing the other passengers facial expressions, it pretty much confirmed he was speaking the truth. He also went on to say that he had just thrown away 36 days of continuous sobriety. I decided to engage him in conversation telling him that I too was an alcoholic, but in recovery and blah blah blah... I think I messed up his buzz cause he exited the bus soon after. There was another time On the 11 Lomas line where an elderly black man had his hand down the front of his pants the whole time and appeared to be jerking off. I've read news reports of some fucked up shit happening here and there around town and a few things that friends who ride the bus have posted on Facebook, but have yet to see anything like that yet, but summer's coming so I suppose it can and probably will any day now....
The major difference in bus patronage between places like Albuquerque and San Francisco are that SF is a compact city where it's very touristy and most of the people that live there don't own cars, so the busses tend to be very crowded and filled with very diverse types of riders, to where ABQ is a city that's more spread out, not as touristy, very car oriented, and it's riders tend to fit more into a certain demographic and stereotype. There's usually always an open seat somewhere on a bus in Albuquerque, I have yet to board one where it's standing room only where it was fairly common in San Francisco.
Mass transit busses used in metropolitan regions all pretty much have the same basic design and layout. Yeah, I know there's those double decker things, and those accordion looking ones, but I'm just speaking of the regular, standard, "boring" bus!
There's the front part near the entrance and driver with the seats that you're required to get up and move if someone who's disabled or elderly boards. For the most part, that's what you'll see, elderly, people with canes or in wheelchairs, the very obese, sometimes people with small children with strollers and the occasional talkative drunk. Actually this was also where I happened to be sitting when I got smacked on the shoulder by the drunk who didn't like my jacket. He was rather talkative as well before that happened.
The next section of seating is actually my preferred section. It's the rows of seats between the disabled/elderly front area and the back exit door. Usually the back area is full, I'll explain why in a bit, but in this area there's usually always an open seat near the window at the stops where I get on. I like this part of the bus, preferably on the right hand side, because the other passengers are generally courteous and mind their own business which makes for a peaceful, problem free ride. I prefer the right hand side because I can observe both out the the front of the bus as well as the sides. Also, not that I'm a bad person or anything, but when the bus does start to get a little crowded, being a punk rocker, people still tend to avoid taking the empty seat next to me. Whatever.
And then there's the back of the bus... that section past the back exit door. There could be plenty of empty seats available on every part of the bus, but for some reason, every simple minded douchebag, lowlife, idiot, wannabe, posturing, dumbfuck, nosey, shady, moronic loser makes a fucking bee line for this part of the bus. Back there, it's like nobody can mind there own fucking business, everybody thinks they're cool, tough, slick, hard, etc. I hate to break it you, homeboy, but we're just not that cool, we ride the fucking bus! So yeah, I avoid that part of the bus if at all possible, simply because I prefer not to associate with these types and I pretty much like to be left alone when out in public. It's quite an adjustment to go from several years of getting around independently to suddenly being surrounded by complete strangers and personality types. I may attract attention but I certainly don't invite it, believe it or not, there is a difference. I'm generally friendly and courteous and mind my own business, all I ask for is the same in return.
In closing, what I would have to say about the Albuquerque public transit system is that it pretty much sucks! For a metro area with a population approaching a million, it's ridiculous! Most of the routes stop running by 8 pm, the routes are confusing and some are all over the fucking place, some only run during certain hours and weekend service can be down right appalling! Even the service in Santa Cruz, CA with a metro area population that is five times smaller had better bus service. I can pretty much get around fine during the day but after dark I'm on my own and have to plan carefully or rely on the generosity and goodwill of others. I guess I can choose to look at as either an adventure or a big fucking headache. At least there's choices I guess...

Hostage Situation: An Escape Attempt

It's suddenly dawned on me that I feel sorta like a prisoner. I've been to jail so I do have a basis for comparison, and yes, I know I can easily get up and walk out the door and leave, and yes, I know I'm the only one keeping me here in this room, and yes, I know this can probably be called a "pity party", however, I don't really see it quite that way.
I had planned on staying in yesterday hoping a friend whose currently in a world of shit himself, would accept the invitation I sent out via text, the day prior to stop by, but I never heard back. So I've, for the most part, been hanging out here in my room. I did step out for about fifteen minutes yesterday morning to the corner store to purchase a 24 oz cup of coffee where I was mildly irritated by a couple of simple minded idiot customers, one of whom felt the need to attempt to comment about the piercing in my septum. So after coming home and enjoying my coffee, did some laundry, took a shower, and went back and forth between browsing the web and reading the latest Christopher Moore novel all day and into the night before eventually falling asleep. I also smoked cigarettes periodically between those activities as well. I live with my brother so other than brief conversations with him, my only communication with the outside world had been through a couple conversations on Facebook chat.
I quit drinking almost eight months ago and consider myself a recovering alcoholic. Actually, this is my second time doing the "recovering alcoholic thing". Anyway, I go AA meetings once a week sometimes. They have a line in one of their readings called "the third step prayer" that says, "relieve me of the bondage of self". Bondage of self... I've always found those three words to be a clever combination. I hate to admit it, and not meaning to come off melodramatic, but I feel like I can relate with that at this moment in time. Yet at the same time, I ask myself, "what the fuck do you really want?!?" Okay, so yeah, I feel like a prisoner, a "hostage", like the title of this blog implies, I've cooped myself up in this room, a self exile of sorts, there's bars on the windows (nice!), however, if this room is a cell, it's a pretty fucking awesome cell! There's a queen size comfy bed, punk rock shit covering the walls and ceiling, a computer w/internet, a guitar with a 100 watt amp and cabinet... Okay, so why don't I leave? Well, it's sunny outside, yet it's windy and cold and I don't feel like dealing with the bus, plus there's nowhere in particular that I feel motivated enough to go to. Okay, am I lonely? hmm...good question. Well, I suppose I wouldn't mind company, but at the same time I can't think of anyone in particular that I feel like going out of my way to go see, call, text or make plans with. Am I hungry? No. Tired? No. Im running out of smokes though. I'd really like to quit. I'll probably ask my brother to drive me over to the Valero in a little while. I'd drive myself, but I'm currently not allowed to drive anymore due to a medical condition that has reemerged after twenty one years of lying dormant. I'm currently awaiting to see a neurological specialist to find out what happens next. I do a lot of fucking waiting these days... Besides my medical appointments, I attend mental health counseling twice weekly which I don't mind. I have a feeling that I'm going to be a frustrating case for them, but hey, this wasn't my fucking idea! Other than that, I waste the afternoon hanging out at an outdoor coffee shop across from UNM with my friend Josh a few days a week. Sometimes I go to a show and as mentioned, maybe go to a meeting or if I feel adventurous hop on the bus and explore.
I was playing in an established local hardcore punk band but haven't played music for over a couple weeks, I had to pull the plug on the band over bullshit and drama tied to secret drug habits and other nonsense. I also dumped my girlfriend Ashley over a month ago. Losing the band sucked. Losing the girlfriend didn't suck.
What the loss of both have in common, is losing them has definitely reduced my stress levels.
I've been all over the place in my thoughts since getting out of the hospital, in this perpetual state of limbo. There was a lot of uncertainty involved too, but some that's been slowly working itself out, it did however, create a little more in the process, but not as much, but there's still a lot of waiting and limbo. Can't help but wonder where I'll be and what things will be like three, six months, a year from now... but today I'll be a prisoner. Anyway, I gotta go buy smokes, see ya!

Past, Present and Uncertainty

:WARNING: THIS BLOG IS GONNA BE ALL OVER THE PLACE:
So yeah, about seven or eight months ago, give or take, my life degenerated into a Social Distortion song, circa 1990. Looking back, one could probably say it probably started months earlier, hell possibly even years earlier, all the way back to when I was still living in California, but for the sake of this blog and for the sake of the current situation, I'm just gonna say what I originally said, although I am gonna go back to those times mentioned prior to those 7-8 months.
   Anyway, most people that know me, know that I am an alcoholic, though now in recovery (for the 2nd time), and many of those same people can tell you some stories(some of which I don't recall) of my antics when drinking, ranging from the hilarious to the horrific, and yes, there is quite a collection. But you see when I was young I wasnt one of the lucky ones that knew what he wanted to do with his life. Sure I went to college for a couple years in my early twenties with no ambitions then dropped out and took off for the bay area and shot dope and drank like a fish. I kicked the dope habit shortly after I turned 30 and about a year or so later made the acquaintance of Bill W. and Dr. Bob a few days after 9/11 happened and got my shit together over the course of the year that followed and the years beyond. I mean REALLY together! Slowly but surely, things just started coming together and falling into place till it seemed like I had it all! The car, the friends, the girl, good credit, good job, respect, etc. Basically, I spent my twenties making a wreck of my life (though I did have fun) and my thirties putting it back together again, though I did start drinking again, which yes, once again, got excessive but I'll address that later, but I avoided the excessive drugging of my twenties and still have even to the present day.
One thing I learned though, is having all those things, "having it all", sounds great, and don't get me wrong, it is, but it's not necessarily the key to happiness. It comes with it's own set of problems, responsibilities and maintenance as well, which is fine, but when you're making fourteen dollars an hour in a place like Albuquerque, NM and get sick for a week, you'll probably be okay if you tighten your belt for a week or two, but in the bay area, you run the risk of getting mercilessly fucked! It can be a cold, cruel world... Fortunately, that's not what happened to me, that was an unnecessary tangent I threw in there for no particular reason, I might have been trying to make a point, and if so, it has since, escaped my train of thought...stupid meds! Anyway, let's go back just a little further for a bit...
Back in the 90's in the bay area, Oakland, CA, when I was shooting dope, I played music. Even played in a couple bands that were actually pretty good. Only a handful of people would remember them though. Only played three or four shows before dissolving. I had tons of equipment, nothing fancy, but still had it. Had this Gibson Sonic though, that I found in the attic of this old punk house in Oakland called The Maxi Pad that I rebuilt. Anyway, most of the shows we played ended badly, although I was told by a member of a band we played with at The Cocodrie in San Francisco that we blew them off the stage so badly that he quit his band the next day. I barely remember playing I was so fucked up. My biggest regret about that time period is I have absolutely nothing to show for it. No recordings(yes, they did exist), no flyers, stickers, equipment, nothing but memories. After I kicked the drugs my heart just wasnt into it and I walked away from music, just went to the occasional show now and then. So I guess fast forward to about 2004, Santa Cruz, CA, I knew this skinhead named Bill Rose, I was going on about  three years clean and sober I think. I met Bill when he was a scraggly little punk rock kid that looked up to me for some reason. Anyway he came to me telling me he wanted to introduce me to his friend Brandon to see if I could help sober him up. I had Bill bring Brandon to this AA meeting that I used attend. Honestly, didnt really have much luck in sobering Brandon up but we did become pretty good friends and still are. Anyway, he had told me about this band he was in at the time (soon to be called The Last Chordz) and I remember thinking "pfft, whatever, everyone and their mothers in a band"! However, they had managed to get an opening slot for a show with a Santa Cruz local legend, Joe Clements(from Fury 66) new band so I agreed to check them out. They were sloppy, and all over the place, but I saw something in them and I started helping them out, finding them places to play, getting them shows, hooking them up with other promoters, and soon they became one of the biggest local draws in town! I had become sort of their "manager". They eventually even put out a cd, that I even got to sing back up vocals for a couple of the songs on. In the process, I was approached by a local promoter and asked if i'd be willing to take over his promotional business while he traveled for a few months which I did, and I also started my own small one as well. I even started working with other promoters too, picking up a few bucks on the side. Kinda weird how shit works out, I had gone from being this big instigator and trouble maker at shows to someone that helps out, cleans up and makes things happen. It was a good feeling and nice to be involved in the scene again in a more positive way for a change. So during my time working with the Last Chordz, they had made a DIYdemo and were in the studio making a real cd, and they had a gig opening for The Partisans from the UK where I met a future ex girlfriend named Rachel while passing out copies of their demo out in the parking lot. She and I didnt actually get involved till over six months after that first time meeting but we were together almost two years, and upon reflection, she was probably the last woman I was probably truly and completely in love with. Sure, I've had a couple girlfriends since then, have said the "L" word to both (No, not Lesbian!) but sadly, I don't think it was quite there with them. So anyway, I was basically fairly content with my life and how things were going, I was still sober, Rachel and I had our issues but things were going good, the Santa Cruz music scene was thriving at the time and I was really involved, I had a good job and was making money and lived in a nice place, although in all honesty, I was becoming rather put off and disillusioned with the AA thing.
I guess it was about the beginning of 2007 when things started changing. Santa Cruz and it's music scene were starting to feel stale, bands were breaking up, new ones were starting to suck, changes were happening at work (although I did get a good raise!), I had to move outta my house, mine and Rachel's problems were getting worse and we werent really getting along. Seemed like there was this constant feeling of "blah!" in the air. I guess it all crashed on October 5th of that year when My dad died and Rachel and I broke up. I caught a plane back to Albuquerque the next day for the memorial and when I came back to Santa Cruz, was pretty much in a funk until I decided to start drinking again about a month and a half later, after which I started having all kinds of fun! Getting out, making friends, meeting women and basically enjoying myself despite my troubles. The only communication with Rachel was several hateful emails over the next couple months following our break up but a few months after the emails stopped I ran into her at an Anti Nowhere League show and we ended up talking and making peace with one another. We started hanging out again here and there and eventually started hooking up and seeing each other again which needless to say, ended very badly, considering we were both drinking heavily and were both dealing with deep rooted personal issues as well. I started seeing a therapist after it ended for a couple months after it ended then decided I'd had enough of California and the bay area and decided to move back to Albuquerque at the end of 2008.
I should mention before moving on, that Rachel and I have been friends in some way, shape or form for eight years now despite periods of not being on speaking terms. We currently get along great and do chat at least a couple times a month. I wish her the best!
My brother drove out to Santa Cruz in his pick up truck, rented a trailer and we loaded up my stuff, with my car in tow and arrived back in Albuquerque in December 2nd, 2008. I moved in with my mom where I stayed for about six months. It sorta kept my drinking in check as well. My brother was pretty amazed at the amount of alcohol me and my friends consumed our last night in Santa Cruz before the Dr. Know show we attended and the after party at my old house that followed. Anyway, I moved back with almost two grand, signed up with a temp agency that kept me fairly busy off and on, although it was hard to get used to not working steady and Albuquerque's lower wages at first, but the lower cost of living suited me just fine! Most of my old friends from the early punk rock days had moved on or had gotten married and started families, but a few were still around and hung out still, but for the most part it was like being the new guy on the scene again, it was kind of fun in a way meeting new people and assimilating to a new, yet very familiar environment. Albuquerque had definitely grown into itself. I was still drinking pretty heavily and hanging with the more rowdier crowds. I got my own apartment in the summer of 2009 which was great, cause I could drink at home openly and freely! I did get in some legal trouble in late fall of '09 and was forced back into AA by the courts for a brief period but that ended up being dismissed after 45 days. In Feb. of 2010 the lease on my apartment ended and I moved into the house that I grew up in with my brother and not too long after, the temp agency I was with finally hooked me up with a permanent job at a photonics/laser optics company! It was a pretty cool job that I actually enjoyed, I almost fucked it up a few times though, coming in with full blown DT's and missing time by being hospitalized, requiring surgery from breaking my leg in a blackout. Other than that, I was an excellent worker. However, the company was bought out and I was part of a string of layoffs in December of 2011 and have as of the present time, been barely or unemployed ever since. A couple months prior I had joined a hardcore punk band called A.P.D., and several months prior to that I had started promoting and putting on small DIY type shows again, but anyway, when I got laid off I was sent away with a pretty good sized severance package, I had UI benefits, some savings and income tax returns coming my way so I decided to take it easy for a bit, I figured, I'd been working pretty consistently for the last decade, why not take a little time off and devote to some artistic endeavors! A.P.D. played our first show on December 29th, 2011 and have played pretty consistently since then despite ourselves and the many trials and tribulations that have come our way, although at present, our future is very uncertain, more will be revealed on that one. Unfortunately for me during my period of "devotion to artistic endeavors" I drank a lot of my money away, ran into some unexpected financial hurdles then in late July of 2012, wrecked my brothers car is a drunk driving crash downtown, spent a couple nights in jail, got out, went on a five day bender, came a day short of killing myself before landing in a local detox unit for a couple days before deciding to hang it up once and for all. I started attending AA again August 5th and have been totally sober since. You would think this blog would end on a uplifting kinda note but it Hah! Not quite... Now let's go WAY back shall we?
In 1984 I started having seizures. After several CAT scans and all that with 1984 technology they found a tumor-like thing what is called a cavernous malformation in my brain that was hemorrhaging causing the seizures, so they put me on medication till I was 23 that kept them under control and I hadnt had one since. That is until February 8th of 2013, just under a month ago, I went into one that morning just before I was going to go to a job interview. the next morning I had three more and was taken to the ER where they examined me, gave me a script and sent me home. The next day I had several more and was once again taken to the ER, given another script, and sent home. The following day, was just ridiculous, they actually just put me in a wheel chair and tried to stick me in the waiting room till I managed to text my cousin Rhonda who happens to be an ER nurse at that hospital who and was on duty at the time wasnt having it, she got on their ass and they immediately brought me into the trauma unit where by that time I was having seizures every five to ten fucking minutes for the next 36 hours! They tried all kinds of different drugs to no avail till they found one that finally worked. I was there a total of five days and in that time I had MRI, EEG and CAT scans and with 2013 technology, they found 13 more of those things in my brain. Im also uninsured, and my meds are very expensive and Im waiting to see a neurologist as well. I was worried about brain damage when I first got out cause my speech was all fucked up, but Im pretty sure it's because I mangled my tongue from the seizures. It's better now. My probation officer has me committed to mental health counseling for the next three months, and at the moment, until I see the neurologist, I don't know what the prognosis is. But with all these fucking appointments, looking for a job is kind of futile, at least for a couple of months, and as for AA and recovery, the day I got out of the hospital I went to a meeting, in fact, I don't even recall how I got there, but I remember listening to this horseshit from these airhead ditzes talking about the "grace of god keeping them sober one more day" While watching these frat boy looking douchebags eyeball high fives to one another then talk about how awesome they were while this same ditz giggled at their words... so yeah,  Im pretty fucking disillusioned and bitter and not on speaking terms or open to the idea of any kinda god or higher power. I mean I hit six months sober and this is what I fucking get?!? Fuck you and FUCK GOD!!! The thought of taking a drink over any of this shit hasnt even crossed my fucking mind and you know what? I'll have seven months tomorrow, so there!