Demons in the City of LOVE

Sadly, so sadly, I mended that bridge just to be safe, I still wanted, still wanted, her touch against me, still wanted, still wanted, her lust against me. For all the world to admire. For all hearts to be mired. She was the fault line, and I welcomed the seismic activity. Ever so softly I said, don't be so anxious. Ever so softly I said, Respect is not earned through submission of flesh. If I ever love again, give me the strength to walk away. If I ever love again, give me the strength to know the difference between sheep and lamb. I still am, and am not, who I am.


my back hurts from the accident.
misery is all that grasps me.
a burden is all I'll be.
deep breathes.
count deep.


Sincerely,
hollow.
earth.

Ch 7. The Symetry of Difference

My biggest fear is being misunderstood, misinterpreted, and losing my mind. I don't so much care what other people think but if I'm into what I'm doing I'm happy. I just don't want people misconstruing it, regurgitating it, and ruining it. If that makes sense.

At four in the morning I was shaking. At the edge of my bed I was sitting staring through the darkness at the only illumination in the room. The TV spread it's glaring pixilated eyes across the floor. I hadn't been to sleep yet. I wasn't going to be able to either. I was too nervous. I looked down at my unpacked things. Layed out neatly on the floor so I could collect an inventory before I left. Make sure everything I needed was there. I had my toiletries, deodorant, body spray placed into a clear bag. I rolled the money I had left from my savings account into a wad. I placed it into a sock and placed that into my rucksack. I began putting my rolled up tshirts, shorts, socks, sweatshirts, long sleeves, underwear, shoes all into my bag. It fit to the brim. I didn't know what else I could bring other than a few books that I felt were essentials to read while I was away. I was going away. I was leaving for good. I was searching for purpose in a life filled with fear. I was finding home in a van on the road. Maybe that's what I needed. Maybe I just needed to get away and find something more fitting. I knew that if I stayed here I would be constantly reminded of Teddy and I would wind up in the plot next to his. I would have overdosed on pain killers. Slit my wrists in a warm bath that had had the contents of a bottle of bleach emptied into it. I would have hung myself with the sheets on my bed. One side tied to the leg of my bed and the other around my neck. I would have been found waving in the wind like our nations flag. It wouldn't have been pleasant in any event. With no anchor man is meant to drift with the current, to find a home.

The horn outside of my apartment signaled that it was time to leave. My apartment was still filled with all my furniture. All the clothes I didn't want. A bed that left me with a bad back and an ache for comfort. A blanket that was ripped partially and a Television set that had seen better days. Everything of value that I wanted I moved back home for the summer. I had finished my lease and didn't sign a new one, so it couldn't stay there. I just left a note on the door in hopes that the landlord may find it. "Give it to good will," I wrote. Then I left. I locked the doors and slipped the key under the door in an envelope. I placed my things into the trailer and brought my backpack with personal items up front that I would need in case we stopped or in case I needed something immediately and couldn't go back to the trailer. These things were what I called "immediate's." Deodorant, tylenol and advil, ear plugs, hand sanitizer, a few bottles of water, my wallet, cell phone charger, two books, a pad of paper and pen, a CD booklet and some change to do laundry. The things that I couldn't live without.

I popped open the front passenger side door and climbed up into the cockpit of our aviation station. We were clear and ready for lift off. To where we weren't all too sure. The directions to all our destinations sat next to me in a binder. An entire month of basements, elks lodges, parks, vfw's, run down clubs and backyards. I looked over to Jerry who was sitting at the steering wheel smoking a cigarette with big thick aviators gracing his face. He lowered his head to see me over his eye wear and asked, "You ready to go?"

"As ready as I am to die." I replied.

Jerry looked at me and just shot me a shit eating grin, " So you're as ready as the rest of us." He popped the car into drive and we headed for I-195 to take us out of New Jersey and to Maryland for our first show. Baltimore was first on our "hit-list" as we called it. No prisoners, No pain. I looked back and saw that Greg and Tim were sleeping in the back. They had been up all night as I was, nervous for different reasons. They left behind family, close friends, females, love. It was all left at home in hope that it would all work out well. In the pilot seats towards the front was our best friend Darrel who was playing Smitty in some video game for Xbox 360 that they had hooked up onto our small televisions set. Darrel, a self described "cliche punk rocker" was a red headed outsider born in Russia. He moved to New York at a young age and never really got to know his home country so he didn't miss it much. He is however a big fan of Ivan Drago from Rocky IV. Wearing a Black Flag t-shirt and sporting a fiend tattoo, he became our merch man from hell. For the next month he would be the butt of all jokes. He would move equipment, sell merch, handle cash, do sound and get very little credit for his work. But he gets to see the United States. Fair Trade? Maybe.

The drive to Maryland was rather pleasant. We listened to classic rock and Metallica albums the entire way. Deep down inside we were a speed metal band waiting to happen. At least that's the joke. The sun began to sink low in the sky as we pulled into the Ottobar in Baltimore, Maryland. I grabbed my bag and stepped out of the van and saw a small gathering of people waiting outside to get in. Greg checked in with the promoter and we loaded in without incident. I never get nervous before we play, even in front of crowds of people we don't know. I get antsy but I never get nervous. The way I look at it is they're either going to get it or not. I wasn't worried.

Jerry set up his drums and began warming up in his usual fashion. He started by stretching and drinking some water and then loosening his wrists by playing on a rubber pad made for quiet drumming sessions. The rest of the band had been meandering around checking out the people who were there, enjoying the night. The first band that went on was a hardcore band from Maryland called IRON. They played fast aggressive hardcore infused with some metal breakdowns. It was intense, the crowd seemed to be really into. As the night went on and different bands started to play, more kids showed up. About fifty in all. We went on fourth out of five bands and just had fun with what we were doing. We opened up with our usual sermon. Baptism of blood as we called it. "We are no one from nowhere and nothing. We are heartless souls wandering money less through the capitalist system, baptized in the blood of undeveloped nations, we are Hollow Earth." I shouted across the low hum of chattering friends. We caught everyones attention when the first drone of heavy ring out chugs swept through the ear canals of our listeners.

As we played I felt this emptiness inside of me. Something I didn't expect to take hold of me and tear at the lining of my stomach, in the middle of our set I threw up off to the side of the stage. I barely missed the shoes of some poor girl who just looked at me and said, "ewww, are you alright." I looked at her and nodded and went back to what I was doing. Was it Teddy or was it nerves. I don't know but it was hollow. It was me, it was my Kingdom of shit and I had to deal with it.

People came up and talked to me after the show. I answered the usual questions regarding what my musical influences are and listened to someone tell me about how they want to start a band and tour. They asked for my advice and all I could say was, "Find the right people and just do it." It was that simple. You can't create chemistry, it just happens. Find a bunch of people you think you could live in a van with and just pack up shop and leave. Don't worry about life after you're gone just do it. Just make the trip, you won't regret it.

"God I need a shower." The grossness that is me is covered in sweat and praying for a rain cloud to get some relief from the sticky feeling on my skin. The one day I want that rain cloud that follows me everywhere to be there, it's nowhere to be seen. That's how the world works. When you need something, it's not there. It's both a burden and a gift. A burden for obvious reasons but a gift because it allows you to do things for yourself. I soon feel a finger poking me in the back. A tad annoyed, thinking it's one of my band mates, I turn around to find a kid who's no older than 17 who looks at me and says, "I have a place where you can shower and sleep if you want."

"That'd be awesome."

Rule number one of living out of a van. When ever someone tells you they have a place for you to shower and sleep, DO NOT PASS UP THE OPPORTUNITY! After talking with the kid who offered us a warm shower and floor to sleep on, I found out his name was Nick. He was a nice kid. The one thing about people you meet on the road is that they all have stories. Some people find that listening to someone talk about there past is just like listening to complaining on a low volume setting. I myself find it to be interesting. I like knowing where people come from. I like just hearing people's stories. Turns out he was 19 and was the product of a broken home. His mother and father were addicted to Meth. His father would get high and come into his room and make sexual advances on him. One night while he was sixteen he had enough and reached back and packed his fists with every ounce of pure rage and frustration. He grabbed hold of every tear, every drop of boiled blood and began swinging. He felt his fist crush his father's nose as he hit him repeatedly until he came back to life. When he finally realized what he was doing, it was too far gone. His father being out cold and bleeding on his floor, he made a move for the phone and called the police. His mother staggered out of her bedroom and began chasing the love of her loins with a kitchen knife. Luckily the cops made an entrance before anyone else got hurt. A few months later he was legally emancipated by the state. He found a job, worked full time and slowly but surely he put away enough money to get a small studio apartment in Baltimore. Since then he's been pretty normal.

Sitting on the wall outside of the club with our legs curled under us, he began to divulge the ache that was in his heart. "I kind of have to at least put up the front that nothing is wrong, but at times it's hard. Try growing up without a mother or father. I mean they were there, but they really weren't. I never saw love in their eyes, just empty hearts that had long lost their souls. I'm sure if they could they would have sold them already for a quick fix. You can't go through your life being miserable and bitching about what life could be like if you had a better hand dealt to you. I mean life is already out to fuck you, if you give it up you make it too easy. Trust me, I've been fucked enough and I don't want to be anymore." An awkward smile and half hearted laugh followed.

How could he be so open with me? I couldn't quite grasp how someone could really give them self up like that to someone they don't even know. I don't deserve an explanation but yet he let me in on something so personal. Could he feel that deep down I was destroyed just like him. Did he somehow know that I too have had substance abuse ruin the people I loved. I couldn't help but run these questions through my head not knowing that he would answer them all in time.

Staring straight forward into the parking meters and cars on the side of the street he spoke, "I know I'm telling you a lot but I've read your lyrics. I feel like you understand how I'm feeling. I feel like you get it. You guys just get hardcore, you get how the world hurts in so many different ways and I felt like if nothing else you'd understand. Understand why I am the way I am. I'm a black sheep. I'm the outcast that no one has ever loved until I came here. The people here shared their love, their passion, their views, their lives. You share so much in your music, I wanted to share with you. Not to be weird, but just...well I don't know. Just to let you know that we all hurt with you." I smiled the first legitimate smile since the accident. I wanted to reach out to Nick. I wanted to tell him about Teddy. I wanted to tell him about the gun in my mouth. The taste and feel of metal in your mouth, grinding against your teeth. How vulnerable you are, how you don't want to live sometimes, but I didn't tell him that. I didn't want to cause him anymore pain.

The equipment was packed, the promoter had given us our guarantee and we began our trek to Nick's house for a warm shower. His studio apartment was more than sufficient, it was small but he was making it. He was living on his own. Loving on his own. Being on his own. Deciding who he wanted to be on his own. I could not help but be jealous of him and fear for him all at the same time. We passed out, tired from the commotion and awoke the next morning to coffee and bagels courtesy our host. We couldn't stay long and I had so much I wanted to tell Nick. So much I wanted to confide in him. He was just like me. He was an outsider. We all were. I handed Nick my contact information and told him to call me if he ever needed anything. I wish we weren't leaving.

"See you where the sidewalk ends Nick." I uttered softly from the back seat of our van.

"What was that?" asked Greg from the front pilot seat.

"Nothing dude, just going through things in my head."

"Sounds interesting." Greg turned to Tim and said, "Off to more white dashes and solid yellow's." Tim merely scoffed as the rest of the band settled in for another long drive. I just sat there, trapped inside my head thinking that I've never been happier living in an ocean of pavement, finding comfort in white dashes and solid yellow's. Sink or swim, we all either sink or swim. Nick chose to swim.

Neither one of us will make it down this hill alive

It seems that you've been praying for change these days, but do nothing to improve your situation, how do you expect everyone else to do it for you? Maybe it's all for the wrong reasons. Maybe white dashes are more important. You have nothing, because you have everything. You have everything because you have nothing, and you can't see it. You continue to take because you feel it's owed to you. Well maybe that's your problem. Maybe you're the problem. I'm sorry you've been given a raw deal. I'm sorry you got the short end of the stick but I'm tired of hearing complaints without any action to change your stance. I would rather find faith than religion.

We are all set in mud.
Steady hands reaching forward to grasp sincerity, how the bottom fell out of the middle, and the center is broken, and hollow earth divides. I grasp all things. I am all being. although we are violent, we are built to define. The slow slur of vowels that leaves us subjected to malnutrition, leave my tongue in a biting fashion. Gain hold on you and me, Gain hold on you and me. and the preacher laughst ha-ha-ha. and the wise man laughs ha-ha-ha. But they know not of the divide. So I choose to laugh louder. I thought I felt our bond. I thought I felt our warmth. Settle your grasp, steady your hands, stop me from shaking, stop me from shaking. There surely is a life beyond the divide. There are more things beyond the divide. We are all set in the mud. We are all set in the Mud. We are all set in the Mud. We are all set in the Mud. Remove these legs, from these binds, I have love, I have love, I had love. And along came the dessert to save me from myself. and I, dream of time, I dream of time. We are still all things. We are still all life. We are still all breathe. We are still all that is beating. We are still......

Endings:

Possibly. I know no one really reads this thing so it'll be easier to get my thoughts out here without a million questions. I've been stuck in the same routine for years. Well, lack of routine. It's not like I haven't been excited to develop expression and have fun doing what I'm doing. I never wanted to make it big or make tons of money, (although it would be nice so I could pay my bills and my parents wouldn't have to help me so much). I have too much shit going on to leave for months at a time. Things just change I guess. People are moving, things are getting more spread out, life is starting for some people, for me it's been started and hasn't stopped. I have a lot of responsibility with baseball and things getting crazier. I had to give it up sooner or later I guess with myself going to graduate school but I thought it'd last for a little longer. I wanted to live my youth forever. Never would I have imagined that I affected so many people. That so many people would appreciate what we do. That young people would come up to me while I was out and say hello and know my name. That people would know the words to our songs. That it would last so long. It's awkward at times but I really did appreciate it. I've been on cloud 9 for the past five years and haven't come down. If there's one thing that I can say about it that I regret, it's that I didn't appreciate it enough while it's here.

In a small hole, tucked deep into the pine barrens, beneath a rotted out oak....

Baseball camp. It's been keeping me sane as of right now. I just love working with kids and teaching them about the game I love. I've been attempting to work on this paper but keep getting sidetracked. I've been trying to read some of the book that a coaching friend of mine bought me just to say thanks for helping them with the American Legion Baseball team they put together. It's called three nights in august and is an amazing story of strategy used by the great Tony LaRusa of the Cardinals. It really is interesting.

Last night was amazing though. For the first time in four years, since graduating high school, I played in my first competitive baseball game at third base. I coach an American Legion Baseball team and we only had eight kids show up in Jackson. It seemed that all was lost but luckily the coach of their team said I could play third but I just couldn't hit. So I played, with no cup, trying to protect the family heirlooms. I had five put outs and started two double plays. It was just a rush. I don't know if I put the nails in the coffin for my lust to play the game yesterday or opened a new can of worms. It felt so good to be there, to be part of a team, and to play hard. I love to work physically. It keeps me comfortable. To sweat is to feel joy. Haha.

Today was also pretty awesome. I went to get food with the baseball coaches I work with at the baseball camp to celebrate the fact that we finished the entire three weeks. When we got there and walked in I realized that the hostess was a old friend of mine who I haven't seen in ages. She looked awesome and was the same as I remember her. I had such a crush on her from seventh grade until, well I guess now. I've always just enjoyed her company. I talked to her for what seemed like a few minutes but was really a few hours and got made fun of by the guys for kind of ditching them. They were alright with it though. I was supposed to go out tonight but I'm too tired.

P.S. Missy rules. She keeps me sane. I analyze everything too much. Sometimes things are just simple.

If they ever tell my story, Let them Know I walked with Giants

What a tough weekend. Three hours up the parkway on a sunny Saturday afternoon. The July heat boiling beads of sweat down my forehead. The entire time I was just thinking, I can't believe it's over. The song in my heart kept playing, the record never getting old, only getting louder with age. The band however, halting. Sticking it's heals into the dirt to bring it's marvelous ride to a dead halt. The band itself will forever hold a place in my heart, and the people who were part of it will always be like brothers. Older brothers who would tell you to keep your chin up when you didn't want to take your eyes off your awkward feet. Who told you to work harder when you failed. Who gave you advice when it seemed like the world was all falling apart around you. "Don't be afraid to Wake the sleeping Giant." All lanes now open on the George Washington Bridge heading into New York. Looking over the edge, down into the water. I bobbed my head to the current, to the rhythm. They had made so many waves, they had changed the landscape of the noise, they had exposed the flaws of so many mediocre bands who tried so hard to be them, they changed the outlook of an anger filled adolescent searching for a purpose in a life filled with fear. We are all strong enough to bare change. This a lesson learned.

I looked into the rear view mirror and saw only my reflection. My cheeks were flush red, just like the first time I saw them and shared with them what their music meant to me. I stumbled to find the words to convey to them how they inspired me as a musician and as a person. How I had been thinking about dropping out of school. How I was so scared of failing that I had thought of ending my own life. How when I heard their record, "...and still our time" I was uplifted with a feeling that no other music group had ever done to me before. They had inspired me to be better. How sometimes we are tested in the most awkward of ways and we must always prevail and push forward. Our van rumbled through the parkways and thruways of New York. We were minutes closer to our destination and I still didn't know whether to smile or cry. Every time they came through our area, it was a celebration. It was a reason to strap your smile on wide and throw shoes on your feet and take a road trip with friends and family to see them. A reunion where you knew you were going to hear some new stories.

Then, there next Indianola Records release, "Ignite and Rebuild" and it captured everything that was good about hardcore. The positive mentality while still being slightly aggressive. Whether you believe in God or Jesus Christ at all, as Life In Your Way does, you have to realize that they are putting forward a positive message with a moral code. Many musicians do this lyrically but they don't put it into practice in their everyday lives. They just want to fit into the genre that they think is cool. As people the band is a group of the nicest most positive outlooking people that I have ever met. They constantly put forward a model of decency and love for all of us to learn from. Many people would say, "do as I say not as I do." Not Life In Your Way.

I picked my head up from the deep thought that I had been in on the ride to the show and noticed that we had entered Connecticut. Home of the Sleeping Giant. Home of Life In Your Way. I still didn't want to believe it. This was the last road trip I would ever take to see my favorite band. My favorite friends that I only see when they tour through. I just pray that I see them just as much if not more now than I did before. Right when Waking Giants was about to come out, I hadn't seen Life In Your Way play in quite a long time. It had been too long. Too much had changed for all of us and when they finally came back through to support the album, I got the bad news that Dave and James were leaving the band for other projects. Fearful that, that would be one of the last times that I got to see them, I lost myself in the music. I talked to john after the show by their trailer and started tearing up like a baby. I just didn't want them to end it that way. Not having an older brother my entire life, I feel like the guys in Life In Your Way filled that void. And I didn't want to see my older brothers fall apart like that. They openly listen to me and all my bullshitting. I know sometimes I can be a handful to deal with and I'm glad they deal with me, but I digress. Waking Giants came out and I've never been so excited about an album and it did nothing but impress me more than I ever thought imaginable. The progression musically and lyrically. The growth of their style individually. It was all magnificent. I couldn't stop listening and still can't stop listening to that album.

We rolled into Danbury at around 4 pm and just mulled around for a while. Bands were already there and about loaded in. Kids started showing up by the dozens. The show was sold out. 400 pre-sale tickets were sold prior to the show. Kids were being sent away at the door with glum expressions on their faces. It was a family reunion vibe around back with all the bands and friends of the bands. Everyone knew each other. I remembered almost everyone that I've met over my years. The guys in Wrench in the Works, Jay, LIYW, all the dudes in Our Last Night and Gray Lines. All old and new members of all the bands. If one thing seemed the same amongst all of them it was that they all felt as if they couldn't believe it was over. They wanted to be sad but couldn't. They were leaving on such a positive note. They were finishing on their terms. We were all just so proud of the band and all its accomplishments. We rejoiced in all the good that they had done in our lives. All the bands played through all technical problems and fantastically. But the night wasn't about any of those bands. It was about Life In Your Way who played probably about fifteen songs. The beginning of the set was plagued by sound board problems but was quickly replaced. Talking outside with Daryl from Wrench in the Works during the intermission, we discussed how Life In Your Way always had these problems. How Life had a way of testing all of us. Why should the end be any different than the middle and the beginning. The character built from the moments of great distress will make us stronger individuals. Will prove our worth to the world. From here I could go into a detailed synopsis of each song, how it went, how they killed it. How they made it pop off. How every voice in the building was singing along. But you already know what happened. The important part is knowing that the band was alive. They were saying goodbye. They were rejoicing in the night and thanking all the people that have supported them for years. They were unselfish until the end, but everyone there knew that it was about them. We were all there for them.

We walked outside and just talked to all our friends. We hugged and laughed. Some of us cried, which was fine. We all respected each other as people. We were one big family. All those that bared witness to that night will forever remember it and will forever have a void in their hearts where life in your way once sat. The ride home was quick and silent. The cool summer nights air blowing through my hair. The noise of cars passing by on the distant side of the parkway. Headlights and white lines. The Rear view mirror showing the thousand of miles of hard road behind us and the thousand miles of hard road ahead of us. I wouldn't want it any different though.

I leave you with this thought: Talking to John Bradley outside by their trailer in a similar situation as last time but before their set he said to me, "Bob, thanks so much for coming. Not because we want to be selfish and force you here, and not because you felt like you had to come, but because you needed to be here, otherwise it wouldn't feel right for me." Brotherhood. That's the only word that comes to mind when thinking about what all the guys of Life In Your Way meant to me. The strongest bond among the human race is that of friendship, of love, and "Love is here now that you're at your end."

There are so many stories, so many people with different experiences. Mine is just one.

It's like you're never good enough. It's like people just mock the things that make you unbelievably happy. It's like no matter what you're never the best you're always somewhere at the bottom struggling to keep afloat. You work and work and work and nothing gets better. I drive around town from time to time late at night praying for a car to veer into me driving at a high velocity, take me from myself. Take the life I have yet to live from me. Sometimes I pray for some estranged disease to overcome me and take me to the bottom of a six foot hole. I am no one. I am nothing. I'm not even a good person anymore. I just want or need something to prove my worth. Something to test me. I ask for it everyday, but nothing comes. I'm tired of living the way other people want me to.