Setting The Record Straight: Missed Chances & How I Break It All Down

There was a time, back in a another life when I my mere presence and in some cases, mention of my name used to bring out the worst in certain people. The time I'm, speaking of was around mostly between late 1996 to late 1999, the place, the east bay, Oakland, CA.
At the the time, I was heavily in the thralls of drugs and addiction and had fallen out of the favor of most the crowd of people that me and my good friend Buck had originally linked up with when we first moved to the Bay Area.

Before I get into this post, I wanna mention the reason for it is that recently, Buck, who now lives in Portland, OR, recently spent a few days out in Oakland visiting "the old pals" and he posted on his Facebook page while he was there, these rather cryptic words, "Why didn't you beat his ass when you had the chance".
I don't really know for sure if he was actually referring to me, but at the same time, knowing the character of certain individuals out there, I wouldn't be surprised. Anyway, it got me to thinking about that question as well as Buck's ties to those people.

First, or all, Buck and I go back a long way, we've been good friends as of this moment, about 24 years now. Despite the disdain and hard feelings between myself and some of those people in Oakland that may linger, Buck has maintained friendships and close ties and to this day, holds them in high esteem. I don't hold it against him and I try to hold my tongue when they are brought up in our conversations. Which they're usually not. (When I said "some", it used to be "all" but I did make a sort of peace with some of them here and there over the period of years after I got clean)

The thing about those days, I will freely admit and take full accountability for my part in all of it, and I will to this day, even after fifteen fucking years of clean time, still stand by my convictions from that time period, which is more than I can say for most of those fucks, and honestly, at this point, I can care less about any sort of forgiveness or friendship from any of them as well.

See, back in the beginning when we all first met, I was older than most of them by a few years, no biggie really, I wasn't a creeper or anything about it, just the way it was. Buck and I lived in this back garage that was separated from a main house that these goth chicks lived in over in north Oakland.
So one night we went to a show at Gilman where we met this particular crowd of people and over the course of the next few months they slowly began to move in with us in that garage space. Thing about me and Buck that differentiated us from those people is we had goth/death rock leanings, we enjoyed decking ourselves out and going to the goth clubs in San Francisco with the girls in the front house and by ourselves as well, which the guys in the garage didn't really quite get, but were still amused by, but the girls secretly and not-so secretly dug about us! And hey, we looked fucking good!
I would go a little more often than Buck and would occasionally bring home or some goth chick-hottie would come pick me up at the house, not to mention when I would go with the folks in the garage to the Gilman shows, I was picking up girls there too, so I was starting to get a rep among them as one of the girls referred to (I later found out) as a "mack". For the record, I never hooked up with any of the girls that lived there as they were all taken, but I do know that a couple of them did have crushes on me because 1) they privately admitted it to me and 2) looking back, it couldn't have been anymore fucking obvious. Whatever though, nothing ever happened...
Regardless, as time went on, I began to feel a little tension beneath the surface coming from a couple of the guys but nothing to get too alarmed about for the most part, it was mainly from a guy that didn't actually live there but was there constantly. Anyway, when I started doing speed on a regular basis was when things started to get a little "awkward" for lack of a better word. Buck was doing it too, but we were all still drinking, doing acid and hanging out together still so it wasn't that big of an issue yet.
See this is actually what the actual root of it all is/was. The girls. The secret crushes on us. At the time, I guess you can say it was sort of innocent in a way, but these girls, two in particular, actually there was three, altogether, but one of them (Erin)would only do it when it was both me and Buck, but the two I'm speaking of, would come and hang out in my little room with me and one of them, Mo, almost every time, would want a line or two which I had no problem giving her. She and I were actually pretty close for a while but her boyfriend was a big thick headed, beer swilling punk that couldn't stand her doing drugs and would get furious when he found out. He threatened me a couple times yet never did anything, and yes, he could easily have beaten me down. Wouldn't have changed anything and likely would have worked against him. I'll get back to that
The other girl, Amy, was closer to my age, gorgeous, also had a boyfriend, the one I mentioned that didn't live at the garage but was there constantly(for the record, he turned out to be a good guy in the long run), but he was really hot tempered, basically sponging off her(though she allowed it), and somewhat sketchy. Anyway, she admitted to me that she had feelings for me and on a few different occasions asked me for drugs, which I happily obliged. (I guess in retrospect, maybe these crushes weren't so "innocent", since all these shenanigans were taking place when the boyfriends weren't around...)
I guess the real problems began in early 1995 when I brought needles into the mix. Shortly thereafter,  I turned Buck onto them too, which in turn, more or less turned a majority of that crowd against me, it was like I corrupted "poor innocent Buck"! Please, if those fucking idiots only knew how Buck grew up and where he came from... Anyway, the garage went under and we all moved out and went our own ways, but me and Buck, along with our old friend Josh had moved into a soon to be notorious apartment off Telegraph & 58th. but that's another story for another blog, this one's about "missed chances". So my relationship with said people continued to sour, although I still remained close with Mo.

Fast forward several months ahead after the chaos of the Telegraph apartment period and I ended up being roomies with Mo in the basement of a house off MLK & 47th for a bit later on. I admit I allowed her to cause a lot of preventable bullshit for me, but I was so clouded with dope by that point I didn't really give a fuck. I'd shoot my dope and if I had enough and she asked I was always more than happy to share it with her, not to mention the couple who lived upstairs, Micheal and Rachel, seemed to find it rather "cool" in their own wacked sorta way. Seriously, at first, they actually thought it was rather novel having a junkie living down in the basement. Micheal in fact dug heroin and he and I shot it together a few times, and I gave Rachel her first real shot cause Micheal kept fucking it up (I still remember all the bruises on her arms from his fuck ups)and was too scared about her ODing that he didn't give her enough to get off. The problem with Mo and drugs is she was one of those people that when she came down, she came down badly! She was one of those types that would get depressed, cry, mope and just get pathetic, and that's when her boyfriend would always come around and pretty much catch on and then as you could guess, hell would break loose, and he was basically a drama queen as well and had no problem talking shit to his buddies about me. He made a few threats toward me as well but nothing ever came of it. I didn't last too long in that house, as I brought some shady characters around and left them unattended and I guess things upstairs started disappearing  plus there was stuff in bags down stairs that I foolishly thought were junk that I gave away to friends that turned out to be valuable that ended up creating a massive shitstorm so my relationship with Micheal and Rachel ended badly. Funny thing about those two, with all the threats and shit talking those two did, Micheal's opportunity for "vengeance", he had to be mega-piss drunk to act on it. He showed up at Kara's apartment, where I had taken refuge after being kicked out of the 47th St house, with his buddy with the intention of "beating my ass", but Jason Powerhouse happened to be hanging outside by his truck smirking at them and his buddy looked at Jason and wisely grabbed Micheal and they both took their leave. Next time Micheal saw me I was sitting in front of Mars Merchantile in Berkeley and all he did was give me a dirty look and half-assly flicked his cigarette at me...ooh yikes!
Rachel on the other hand, had seen me in person on a few different occasions but best she got was rounding up a posse (that included her dad)at a show in late 1999 to jump me several on one. I think the humiliation factor hurt more than the actual beating. The sucker punch to the jaw from daddy and the bruises on my arms received from the kicks from the four others while covering my head while I was on the ground were the worst of it physically. (I should also mention, I was strung out as fuck at that time, and that night was actually one of the last times I ever shot up, I got clean pretty much right after that night). I did happen to see a blog of hers online about five years later where she claimed that "She" beat the shit out of me. Hah! yeah right. She gave me a few worthless kicks while talking shit with slurred words while I was on the ground after the fact, but whatever, if it makes her feel better to believe that nonsense, fuck it, she can have that little victory.

As for the others, yeah I know they would have loved to see me beaten to a pulp, but it never happened. For the longest time, I was pretty resentful toward them because I thought I was given an unfair rap in all of it, because why was I such a villain and Buck still revered in high standing, afterall, he was doing and shooting dope too, not to mention an annoyingly obnoxious drunk to boot? But the truth is, it was the fucking girls... Also my big mouth as well. Thing is, my being older might have, I'm not totally sure, but might have played somewhat of a role, but it's also possible that Mo had a lot of pull with her boyfriend, that if he would have so much as laid a hand on me, that probably would have been it for them. Maybe maybe not. It's really hard to say with that particular group, they definitely subscribed to that "bro's before ho's" mentality. Then with Amy, she basically turned on me but that was my fault, because in a moment of bad judgment, I foolishly told one of those guys about one of mine and Amy's "moments" and I'm guessing he went and ratted her out to her boyfriend and that group and my guess is that they gave her hell about it. I recall, there was a point in time where Amy was suddenly not as warm toward me as she usually was anymore and around mid 1999 after she had since moved on and moved out of the Bay Area and was there visiting, we were at Cindy's house partying, Amy was drunk and being kind of a bitch and she, out of nowhere said to me that I told "somebody that she and I hooked up". Not her exact words, but something along those lines, so that explained the coldness on her part and and gave me some perspective I guess... But no ass kicking by their hands other than that shit from Rachel's stupid "posse" ever came my way, and I could tell that a couple of them would have loved to, and believe me, they had plenty of opportunities. I guess it was just timing and the fact that of those who wanted to, I had some dirt and secrets on them. Fucking losers...

So here we are now, a decade and half later. Naturally there's a lot more details to this rant/story and it's not something I really speak of cause to put it simply, why bother? All the characters in it, with the exception of Amy who I have no clue of her whereabouts or what she's up to, I have somewhat of an idea what they're doing and where they're at. When Buck made that post, I honestly could not help but wonder if that was about me. I've never bothered to ask Buck if he'd ever felt caught in the middle, at the same time, I'm not so sure how I'd feel about Buck if the answer was yes. I'm just being honest with that one. However, I'm not about to play tug-of-war either with those people over him.
As for those people... Well, if that really was about me, then well, yeah, I suppose that's a pretty valid question. There might have been other factors too though. I think they knew I was packing a gun. When I was living at "The Rat Cage" (another story for another blog) to try and come after me there, you can bet your fucking ass you would have had a fight on your hands.
But anyway, if they really want me now, they gotta come to me, and they're definitely going to be out of their elements and comfort zones. I'll just leave it at that. You fuckers had your chances.

By the way, for the record, I DO understand now why Buck wasn't looked at as the total "pariah" that I was back then. He may have been a fuck up, but despite it all, he still got a job and paid his share of the rent and was worthy of a degree of respectability. Me on the other hand, I was a lying, cheating, pistol packing, drug slanging, dope shooting, low life fucking junkie. That's the honest fucking truth. I did a lot a fucked up things and went to some dark and vile places, both literally and figuratively. I wronged a lot of good people and I consider myself very lucky to have gotten this far and to have earned the life I have now even if it isn't as good as it could be. Buck's done well for himself, and I have much love and respect for him. Most of the other's I've mentioned in this blog, I feel for the most part, indifferent to, just a big "whatever", but there's a couple people from those days that can go eat a big fat dick for all I care...

The Bettie Bandwagon, Models & Her Bday: A Historical Reaction

I never did jump on "The Bettie Bandwagon" myself, and not denying she was gorgeous and is still one of the longer running symbols of modern pop culture even in this present time. Personally though, with millions of young ladies out there these days calling themselves "models"... Whatever, sorry girls, get over yourselves, you're a dime, hell, maybe even a nickle a dozen, and you're aging fast and all of you, insecure, neurotic little tarts with your deep-seated daddy issues had best figure that out and come to terms with that soon, cause time is NOT on your side, and reality and nature hits hard, my dears... With that said, I love history more than I like pin up models. Don't get me wrong, I still like pin up models, vintage ones too, and that includes Bettie! Well, here's some a little bit of both: Bettie Page’s mugshot from October 29th 1972. Many of Bettie’s fans don’t seem to know that she left the pinup world and became a religious fanatic. Years later she was diagnosed as schizophrenic and eventually spent over 11 years in a state mental institution because she stabbed three people. A husband and wife the first time, and her 66 year old roommate the second time because she said “God inspired her to do it”.

I decided to throw in a young Bettie pin up to be fair, I mean it IS her birthday and all!

Sobriety Dilemmas

"Congratulating a man for staying sober is like congratulating a man for running out of a burning building" Anonymous 

Being sober is kinda "my thing" these days, in other words, I'm digging it! However, like everything else, it does come with it's own set of, for lack of a better word, "dilemmas". Living and maintaining a sober lifestyle isn't exactly easy in this day and age, particularly in my circles. Hell, in any circles for that matter, people drink and do drugs from all walks of life, from the skid row bums looking down on you  while laying in the gutter, to the rich and powerful CEO's looking down on you from their high rise office towers, and all those other types and walks of life in between.

I've been through this before, and in less than a month I'll be once again approaching that "18 month mile stone", which, other than making mention of it in this blog and a select few, I will be keeping it to myself for the most part, due to a particular dilemma that I've blogged about before regarding the "congratulations" thing that I take great issue with. My attitude about that still hasn't changed, in fact my resolve has only strengthened as far as that goes.
There's also the dilemma of the 12 step group AA. When I decided to get sober back in 2001, I was a hopeless mess of a pariah and it was really helpful and pulling me from the dank pit I had fallen into. However, everything has a dark side, and I began feeling alienated to the point that I couldn't stand to be around most of those people before I left and eventually picked that "rock 'n roll lifestyle" minus the dope shooting. When I came back to AA the second time around in 2012, instead a few years, it only took me a few months to get those feelings of disgust and alienation that I felt back then. The difference is this time around I'm able walk into the rooms confidently and knowing what's up, instead of freaked out, shell shocked, insecure and shy like the first couple years in the early 2000's. I still occasionally go to a meeting, but halfway through tend to struggle to not get up and leave. When I reached my one year anniversary I went to three that week, and kept silent even though there was a few people in the rooms that were aware of my milestone. Another dilemma I have with AA is I have friends that are struggling with their own alcoholism that occasionally contact me asking about AA, and if I go/went to meetings. Most of these friends live out of town, but I'm not going to lie to them and if they were here and wanted to utilize AA and wanted my help, I would most definitely go with them, Hell, I would even sponsor them, at least temporarily if need be, regardless of my attitudes. I stick with the basic concept of one alcoholic helping another one day at a time.

I guess another dilemma would be trying to not come off self righteous about the whole sober thing, which believe it or not, I do try to be sensitive to. Well, not with everyone, cause well, fuck everyone, just certain people. Truth be told, since I've sobered up nearly 18 months ago, my social life, as well as my social circles, have decreased dramatically, which isn't really a bad thing, and I'm not by any means crying over, it's just something I felt was pertinent to this topic of discussion. It's not so much that I've lost friends over it, if anything I've gained, and in some cases, regained the respect of some of them, and those times when I do get out to a show or party where the booze is flowing, I can get a certain degree of inspiration from them by watching their insecurities fade and their personalities blossom in the early part of the festivities till it peaks and slowly or rapidly begins to unravel and conversation gets sloppy, judgement fails, tempers flair, stomachs churn, consciousness goes, etc. I don't miss any of that, The hangovers and DT's, the embarrassment and confusion, the mystery bruises, the regrettable hookups and those are just the basics! I went way beyond the basics, but I've written, discussed and blogged plenty about that already. Regardless, I believe I have a pretty healthy attitude about being sober. I have no problem being around people that drink, feel completely comfortable in bars so I'm all good in all that aspect.

Then there that silly little label called "straight edge"... I'll say right here that there's no fucking way in hell I would ever identify as "straight edge". In fact, fuck straight edge, that's something that started off with good intentions but evolved into some serious bullshit that I want no part of, I actually take offense when someone refers to me as straight edge, but they're lucky I'm sober, cause if I was drunk I'd probably punch them in the mouth for calling me that, instead I rationally explain the difference... even though they're complete fucking morons. Oh well. Dilemmas....

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!