Stranger, Girl, & IA part II

And now for the exciting next installment...

Evan was now the drummer for IA but what about a bass player? A close friend from high school Josh E was my band stranger's touring manager. He had bought into the dream of living the life of a rock and roller and was around for the ride. (My band years were a great ride too)

Josh had no music experience, but no musical experience was not an obstacle that could stop Innocent Addicts. The band is now complete, we taught Josh how to play bass in a couple minutes.

And now for the final piece, we needed a gig. This is when my brain seems to work best. I racked that old brain of mine and the answer that it computed was a small town called Moraga, which was the home of a little catholic college. Catholic schools love to party. Actually I think most schools love to party. My great friend Dan T was my point of contact.

Dan T was a twin that went to a rival high school of mine. In 9th grade I was arrested for LSD and my school found out. The school said I could stay as long as I played football or did some type of extra curricular activity. I played football for two years, got a trophy for being the hardest hitter and paralyzed a kid for 12 hours after one of my hits.

I didn't like football and knew I had to do something else. I ran for president. The activities director tried to rig the election so I would loose. The kids threatened a school walkout. The principle ordered a re-election and I won by a landslide.

That summer I went to student council camp and met a fellow student leader by the name of Matt T whom I spotted having a cigarette. We became best friends for the week and when we got home he invited me to see a free concert with Jefferson Starship where I was introduced to his twin brother Dan T who got me high on marijuana.

I needed a gig for IA and the answer my mind supplies me with is Dan T at St Mary's college. I get Dan on the phone and ask if he can get our band to play at the local bar. Dan is probably drunk and not thinking clearly and says, "Sure."

Innocent Addicts needs to have a theme when we play. The theme determines how we dress and puts the band into the right mood. We also need to drink many beers before we go on stage, it's kind of a rule. A couple past themes: Rodeo yet Hawaiian and Howard Stern yet lone ranger. We planned this gig very last minute so we didn't have time for a theme.

To Dan T's surprise we actually show up to his dorm room. We bust in telling him we need a theme! The band members take off our shirts and some how acquire vests. So our theme is no shirts with vests. We're drinking vodka, it's the only thing Evan drinks.

"When do we set up for our gig Dan?" I ask as I check myself out in the mirror with my vest.

"I thought you guys were kidding." Dan says.

"We were promised a fucking gig Dan. Now what's the name of the bar?" I shot back.

"Murphy's is the name of the bar but there's no way they're going to let some random band play at the last second." Dan said trying to reason with us.

"Dan we came here to play a gig and that's what we're going to do!" I confidently retorted. I turn to our new drummer, "Evan call up Murphy's and secure the show."

Evan somehow gets the number to Murphy's and calls, "Yes hi, we are celebrating a friends birthday and we were wondering if we could bring the party to your bar. We also want to bring our band to perform." Evan pauses while listening to something the bar tender is saying, "We have about 200 people. That's great we'll see you in a little bit."

We had maybe 12 people at the most.

-------My three year old needs me to play wii, stay tuned for the next shocking installment.

Stranger bombs, I kiss, and IA plans to strike!

I was in a band called Stranger. I never really liked the name but it was the one people knew us by. The band started in high school and stayed together till I was almost 22.

A friend from high school Ted C went to Berkeley. He was in some frat.

The gig paid a couple hundred bucks. Berkeley and Stanford have a big rivalry and Ted hooked us up to play after the big game. We have to be there at 2 in the afternoon right after the game. The rest of the band was in San Francisco. I was the first person to make it to the gig at maybe 1pm. Ted paid me a couple hundred bucks. Free food and free booze, my favorite things, my favorite price. I ate and I drank.

People started to arrive. I called the San Francisco house where the band was and didn't get an answer. "They're on their way." I thought.

2pm comes and passes. I begin to stress. I drink more. The place gets completely packed with people. I hear people start to yell, "Where the fuck is the band?!" The frat boys start asking Ted, "What's up with your boys?"

I begin to get the sense that Ted went out on a limb to book our band. The frat guys are starting to treat Ted like shit. I over hear guys talking shit about Ted behind his back about how he's a fuck up. Voices are yelling about how the band is a bunch of losers.

I call the house in SF again, the band just woke up and they're going to start heading over. People at the party are talking about how this party sucks. The party is starting to thin out. Someone writes on a big chalkboard that Ted is a loser. I'm hiding behind some trees with my beer. I offer Ted his money back but he tells me to keep it.

The band shows up at 8pm. There's maybe 10 to 15 people left. There was close to a few hundred when we were supposed to play. We set up and play. The lead singer gets drunk on vodka and screams instead of singing. I feel embarrassed. The entire band basically feels the same way.

We pack up and the frat basically never wants anything to do with us again.

After the frat debacle I go to a party at my old high school girlfriends house. I have long hair and long sideburns. I think I look cool. The ex girlfriend is single. Her friends think I look cool too. I go for a walk with this girl around the block. We talk. I'm pretty drunk but apparently coherent enough to initiate a make out session. This is like four years after we broke up. This was what I had wanted for four years! It was one of those moments that I couldn't believe was happening. It was surreal in the way that it wasn't as good as I would have imagined it to be but it was everything that I thought about everyday for years coming true. It was almost as if I was out of my body watching myself make out with this girl in San Francisco.

I left and she invited me to come over the next night for another party.

Innocent Addicts was my alter ego band. I loved this band name. Albert P was one of my best friends in high school and probably the funniest person I knew. He was in town and I knew we had to get IA a gig to redeem myself for the Stranger fiasco at the berkeley frat.

One problem, we didn't have a drummer, a bass player or a gig. I knew we could get around that. Evan, the lead singer of Stranger, was not only a drummer but a big fan of IA.

Tune in tomorrow for the rest of the story. (Lesley just walked in)

Pancakes?

There's a new restaraunt opening up right belopw my house. It's been under comstruction for over six months. The name is something like "Pancake Stacks".

Is that really what the world needs right now? More pancakes.

We are a fat country. In every way. Our bodies are fat and our appetite for crap is fat.

The world doesn't need more pancakes.

I'll probably get some when the store opens.

I miss my family

Little Rock airport. An hour before the flight. Laptop is out and plugged in. Phone is plugged into the laptop. I don't want to write.

I'm a wanderer. I'm wondering the Earth aimlessly. I'm an outcast. I don't fit the mold.

I miss my family. I did video chat a few times with the kids. Indy said he misses me and Stone said I look stupid. Lesley called me up last night about to loose it with Indy. He wanted to make a costume and Lesley didn't have any ideas on how to make one. Indy needed it now and was throwing a temper tantrum. I got him on the speaker phone and said I had a cool idea for a costume. I told him to make a rad costume out of tin foil. He stopped crying and said, "OK."

Lesley emailed me some cool pictures of Indy in his tin foil future suit. I got teary eyed.

I miss my wife.

I'm a fuck up.

I'm supposed to have bought gifts for everyone from my trip but I didn't. There was some cheap jewelry in the Little Rock airport that I was going to get for my wife but I couldn't commit to anything. I have a layover in Dallas, maybe they will have something good.

So much that you are expected to do in this life. Be a good Dad, be a good husband, eat right, excises, meditate, write, create, make money, make something of yourself, organize, and be a friend. I don't know if I can do it.

I don't want to litter. I don't want to help people litter. I don't want to be a part of the problem. I don't want to help to numb our population. I want to be part of the solution.

(The national security level is orange)

Anyone can complain. You want to complain? Fuck you! Be a part of the answer. What's the answer?

I don't know.

Be a good Dad.

Be true to your heart. Do what your intuition tells you.

Forgive.

Be accepting.

Politics, wars, corruption, corporations taking over and all the rest of the bullshit. What can one man do. Get your shit together. Get off your ass. But start small.

Treat your family right.

I miss my family.

I love my family.

I love my boys.

I love my beautiful wife.

Church

I'm in my hotel in Springdale Arkansas, day 6. I have that lonely feeling accompanied with light anxiety, covered with the usual, "What are you doing with your life?" feeling.

I'm behind schedule once again. Behind on what I'm not so sure.

I believe in the Spirit of the Universe. I believe in the laws of nature. I believe in realities beyond the one I'm seeing. I believe if you do certain things then certain things happen. I believe in stuff I can't explain. I believe I sound crazy.

I believe in the search. I believe in the search for God. The people who are searching for God are the one's who are cool. The people searching for the answers are the one's I want to hang with. The people who have found the answers (or accepted their parents spoon fed message without question) are the one's that frighten me.

This religious shit can fuck you up. It took me years to un-brainwash myself and I'm still plenty brain washed.

I've lived with a strange sense that I've been sleeping for most of my life. I've seen myself go through the motions but I'm not really alive. I think spirituality could mean being alive. Being awake. This is why I find it so important to follow your passion and do what your heart tells you to do, because that is when you feel alive.

I'm still searching for what I'm good at.

What are my assets? (This is all stream of conscious writing so fuck you if you think it's incoherent!)

OK...what was I saying? Oh yeah, what are my assets?

I'm good at speaking in front of people. (But only if I have something to say)

I seem to be good at getting people together (But only if I have something good to say)

I can be funny in front of people

I can obsess on something (This could be good or bad)

I'm a good leader

I can write songs

I can talk to people from all walks of life's (From artists to suits)

What to do with these talents?

1. Ignore your talents, push them deep inside of you, and try to focus on the teachings of the church.

or

2. Half ignore and half acknowledge your spiritual emptiness and live your life behind schedule while sleeping it away

or

3. Shake yourself awake at every corner and decide to become the searcher today.

OK I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about but it kind of makes sense to me and that's who I'm writing for write now.

Wake up and search. Search for the deeper truth. Who knows maybe a vocation of some type will make itself available to me while I'm searching.

When does it stop being overwhelming?

Each morning I jot down some thoughts first thing. I try to write some joke ideas, ideas for youtube videos, for an episode in my fantasy TV show, a scene for my movie script, and I'll write something to blog about. I never give it a second thought, I just write it down and move on.

This morning for my blog idea I wrote down: Kids are overwhelming. As I began to write this I started thinking about life and how I was overwhelmed for most of mine. It didn't start with kids, although kids definitely give you a new perspective on the meaning of overwhelmed.

I was a latch key kid. I didn't have any adult supervision when I was young and when I think about it I'm pretty glad I didn't. I think having adults around when you are young is extremely important but in my case the kind of adults that would have shaped my perspective, had they been around, did me far more good by not being there. The little influence that I did get from them fucked me up enough.

No one cared if I did homework when I was a kid. I might have been made to feel bad about myself for a few days after the report cards came out but other than that there was no day to day logistical concern of how I was applying myself in school. I had no organization or priority control whatsoever. If I was given a book report due in 3 months I would wait until the last minute and take two straight days to read the book and then stay up all night the night before the due date writing the report.

If there was homework due I showed up empty handed. The teacher yelled at me and I felt bad but the motivation never came. I was overwhelmed.

I was always overwhelmed with school work all the way through college. I was also overwhelmed with my mothers expectations of me. Nothing was good enough, I was too dumb, too young, unreliable, all ways the irresponsible child (even in my thirties), and didn't possess good values in her eyes.

Maybe being overwhelmed has to do with perspective.

When you are young you find ways to cope with growing up and your situation and you eventually come up with a way to deal with life.

My way was the "check out". I learned early on how to check out. I checked out mostly through TV. I could watch TV all day long. Morning to night and not take my eyes off of it. If there wasn't TV I checked out into my head. I learned early not to say what you were thinking so I just became quiet. When people I didn't like (certain adults) talked to me I would always tell them to fuck off in my head. They would just go on talking as I would talk to them silently in my head, "I don't care what you're saying right now, I'm not listening. I don't like you"

So I don't know what that has to do with kids being overwhelming except for the fact that I have an escape mechanism when I get stressed out. Now that I have kids I want to be present for them. When I'm trying to check out and they are trying to get my attention is when the strain enters the situation. I can't get them to do what I want.

Recently my house and life were a mess. The kids room was out of control. I told the kids that we need to find all the best toys and get rid of the ones we don't like. When we are left with the best toys we need to find a place for each toy. A permanent home for each item. We did just that and we took out my label maker and put a label with the toys name right in the place the toy was supposed to go. The kids now know where their toys go. Life for them is organized and structured.

We know what we are supposed to be doing. They feel secure and I feel calmer.

Organize and be less overwhelmed.

The End

More of nothing

No need to read this! Unless you love Duke.



I'm writing to write today. My brain is stuck. My life is stuck. How do I get it unstuck? The million dollar question.



I've done 90 days to a beach body a couple different times in my life. I had turned thirty and I was depressed. I was a nobody. I had such high hopes for myself and I felt that I had slept my life away for many of the previous years. So many years wasted on the couch in front of the TV. I was thirty with nothing to show for it. My dreams all failed and I was crushed. I saw two infomercials, Tony Robbins and the P90X.



I ordered both.



The P90x made my body more sore than I had ever been in my life. I was completely out of shape. But when I start something I will finish it, many times something that shouldn't be finished. Luckily this start something till you finish it quality I possess was working for me in this area of my life. After week one I wanted to quit, week two I wanted to quit, week 3 and 4 was the same thing. I kept doing it even though my brain was giving me every plausible excuse in the book not to. Even when I thought it was doing nothing I did it. After the first month I began to see some results. I had a little more motivation.



Still my mind would mind fuck me and try to get me to quit. I ignored my mind and went through with it. Eventually it began to feel good. Eventually I was getting great results and I was feeling stronger than I ever had before.



I guess what I'm trying to do is paint an analogy for myself that will encourage me to keep writing because my brain is beating myself up right now. I'm hearing self talk about how I'm not that good of a writer and that I'm not that good at anything.



Fuck you voice. Fuck you, and damn you to hell!



I love these theories that I keep in my brain that I haven't experienced yet but somehow believe to be true. The theory here being: If you are a half way decent writer and you just commit yourself to writing everyday then magic will happen. If you write every day then inspiration will kick in. You don't have to worry about writing great things you just need to focus on writing. Just write and don't worry about the results. Let writing be the pleasure.



I actually am feeling better right now. The act of writing is making me feel better. I want to do things that truly make me feel good. Not the kind of fleeting good feeling that comes from instant gratification but the good feeling that sticks with you. I want the feeling that comes after three months of hard work and you are now in great physical shape. Or the healthy feeling you get after eating well.



Or maybe the good feeling you get after writing.



Let writing be the goal. Let writing be the obsession. Let writing be the fix.