I'm not who I used to be (and I wasn't then either)

Red & Black was playing a show last night and saw a friend that I haven't really been in contact with for a while. Toward the end of the night we got talking and the conversation turned to one I feel like I've had a dozen times in the last couple of years. He said Another Breath, a band that used to mean a lot to him, has changed into something that he no longer wants any part of. We don't have convictions. We don't stand for things like we used to. The whole world is fucked and instead of taking the punk rock route and doing things DIY we've just taken the path of least resistance and given up on our laurels and effectively cheapened what we are.

His tone wasn't accusatory or angry. He was genuinely disappointed. He had tears in his eyes. At one point, among the mess, we stood for something else. Something better than the status quo that's forced down our throats every day. In a way I felt what he was saying is that we've become the things that our songs swore we would never be. This came down especially hard on me since I'm the one who writes, speaks, and screams those words at the top of my lungs.

At one point he asked how long ago I wrote Jailbreak and I told him it was about 3 years ago I think. I think what he wanted to get at was that the song is about rebellion. It's about not fitting into to some bullshit standard of living that so many people adopt just because it's in front of them. I got the impression that he felt I had left that behind and now that I'm pursuing higher education and wearing polo shirts I'm completely forsaking the words that I wrote and that he believed in. The conversation took a different turn and it's possible he didn't even mean to say that but as long as I have the opportunity I'd like to point something very important out - Jailbreak was written in the context of the entire record. There's a reason that Jailbreak is the first song and Coming Home happens toward the end. The whole record is about a big realization I had a couple of years ago.... and judging by the fact that nobody seems to like the songs at the end of the record and everybody sings along to jailbreak I'd have to say it's one that kids that are into our band don't readily get.

That realization I'm talking about is that rebellion is a lot of bullshit. Whoa! Did I really just type that out? Am I seeing this right? What am I saying? That we should all just ditch the punk rock spirit? Am I telling you to sell your propagandhi records on ebay and use the profits to invest in the nasdaq and purchase fine wine? No. Not at all. What I'm saying is that for me, being pissed off at the world didn't have as much to do with what was going on as it did with me needing something to be pissed off about. I used to go to war protests and drone on and on about politics that I honestly knew much less about than I gave myself credit for. I was vegetarian and for a while I didn't drink. When I found out our records made their way into hot topic I encouraged people to go in and steal them. As a band we boycotted myspace. We fought like hell to keep barcodes off our records. We printed our shirts (and still do) on textiles that are made in the US in attempts to not support sweat shop labor. Yeah. We stood for something.

I used to think about this stuff and at times I wondered what it was we were accomplishing. I thought about all the things I said about America and what a bullshit country it is - waging war on lesser nations and taking what we needed (currently oil). At one point I laughed out loud at the hypocricy of it all. Here we are, 5 or 6 or 7 privileged middle class white kids who, by the good fortune of being born to privilege in the United States, had the opportunity to start a little rock band and go on tour, where I would use the time between our songs to talk about how America was a disease. Meanwhile we would burn that foreign oil for 6 or 7 hours a day as we drove from city to city. I realized that what we were doing - at least what I was doing - was a lot of talk. And talk is cheap.

I used to get mad. I'd think "Everything is fucked" and I'd think seriously about how I was going to start blowing up buildings and taking part in direct action. I'd throw as many wrenches as possible into the machine and smile as it came crashing to the ground. Then the day came when I'd think "Everything is fucked" and I'd smile just in the thought. I realized that I don't need to burn anything down or free any lab rats or go to any protests. We're fucked and there's nothing that I can do that's going to help it. And what especially isn't going to help is reading books, drinking beer, and having semi-coherent conversations with other privileged idiots like myself about politics and how we're going to change the world. Because the truth is this - our human nature is destructive. We reek havoc on the ecosystem just by being alive. Whether slow or fast, we're going to fuck something up. Everything is fucked and it's not because we did something wrong. It's because we did exactly what our natural instincts tell us to do - eat, fuck, and kill.

I looked at my life and I looked at the things I said and the things that I made such a big deal to care about and realized it's all bullshit. All these fucking vegan straight edge save the whale stop global warming jerk-offs purporting to be the second coming of Christ here to cleans the world of the wrongs of the White American middle class are blowing smoke up their own asses. Al Gore is a self-aggrandizing douchebag who would be nobody if he didn't have an issue to attach himself to. A lot of people around me seem to share the same characteristic. Being vegan isn't going to save the world. Not having barcode on a hardcore record isn't going to save the world. Nothing you do is going to save the world. If you're someone who understands that but still wants to make a positive stride toward change I offer the following advice: kill yourself. If you want to cut down on human waste, save animals, not contribute to carbon monoxide, not waste water and not be a part of the ultimate damnation of the human race it's simple. Just kill yourself. Nothing else is going to have as much of an effect.

If you don't want to kill yourself I offer the following advice: Let go of the hate and live within your means. I could never understand people who are off trying to solve the giant ills of the world while problems within your grasp go unnoticed. There's an old lady that lives next door to you that can't shovel her own front steps in the winter. Help her out. I'm sure she'll be much more grateful than the animal you save by not eating (and that you will eventually run over while driving around in your SUV). There's a kid that rides around on a skateboard all by himself after school because he doesn't have any friends that like to skate and his parents are too busy watching TV to pay attention to him. Teach him how to do a flipkick so he doesn't look like an asshole when the frat boys down the street start yelling "Do a trick!"

And just so we're on the same page. I'm not saying it's stupid to be vegan or straight edge or to go to a war protest or to make it a point to wipe your ass properly. All of these things have value. It's important to care about something a little more important than making sure you'll be home to catch Simpsons reruns. It's important to understand that we have as much potential for harm as we have for good and to try to err on the side of good. But so many of us take what we're doing and make it into some big thing that it isn't and walk around like our shit doesn't stink. Guess what? My shit stinks. Yours does too.

The world at large is a beautiful place. There are a lot of shitty things about it but you're an idiot if you think Utopia is a possibility. And if you do think it's a possibility you're missing out on all the good things going on around you while you're holding your breath waiting for it to come. Someday we're all going to die. Whether it be starving to death, getting hit by a bus, or nuclear holocaust. Whatever is going to happen it's not for you to decide or control. I'm sorry but it's the truth and you're going to have to accept it at some point. In the meantime if you want to make a difference without shooting yourself I'd suggest realizing that the best you can do is to make this place as good as it can possibly be in your time here and enjoying it as much as possible. Stop bitching about the bad things and start supporting the good things. In time you'll understand what I'm talking about.

As far as Another Breath is concerned I'd have to say that at this point we're doing the best we can. I still talk between songs but what I'm talking about is different than before. I think what I have to say is more honest and more important than the things I used to say. We're 5 kids in a band and our main motivation is to make music and enjoy each other. In doing that I think our efforts are much greater and much better than plotting to blow up an army recruitment center. If one of the side effects of our music happens to be that we can spread a positive message and help people out then so be it but I still hold that talking about doing things is one of the lowest and cheapest things anyone can do (while blogging about it is probably at the absolute rock bottom).

As far as I'm concerned. I'm probably not what many people assume I am. I'm a 24 year old kid trying to make sense out of my life. Along the way I write about what I'm experiencing. I don't have the answers. Nor will I ever. I didn't apologize the other night for not being what I'm expected to be because I don't owe anything to anyone just because I happen to be in a band. I've worked hard and ventured to the edges of complete insanity to continue to be in this band with people who at times are my best friends and at times my worst enemies. For that I've earned to right do do whatever I want with it and you have the right to either accept it or not.

*I'd just like to add at the end of this that this isn't a personal attack on anyone or anything. I appreciated that conversation and others like it because it helped me get in a place where I could re-evaluate what I'm doing and if I think I'm living the way I want to. As it turns out I am.

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Words to sleep

It's been a really bittersweet weekend. I'm not even sure what exactly is going on with me right now but I'm going to try to piece together what I can get a handle on and leave it here so that I might get some sleep tonight.

My Grandfather has been in the hospital for the better part of the last month or two. I've been real disconnected from the whole situation because I'm so wrapped up in my own life but I'll get a call every couple of weeks from my mom letting me know that Grandpa isn't doing well.

Something about a conversation we had last week was really giving me the vibe that my mom was wrecked about it so I told her I would take a day off of School/Work and come spend the day with her in Fulton which is about 45 minutes away from my house in Syracuse. I headed up Monday and we hung out for a bit and went to the hospital to see Grandpa. He was fast asleep and he looked like shit. Grandpa has stomach cancer. He's been getting treated for it for about 7 years now so I'm used to him kind of bouncing back and forth between being pretty emaciated and being a moderately healthy looking beanpole. This is the worst I'd ever seen though.

I really didn't know how to process it at that point. Here was my Grandfather, a guy who I haven't had more than a 15 minute conversation with ever. A guy who I haven't really felt close to since I was almost too young to remember. So I said hi to him (even though he was asleep), I hugged my Grandmother who has basically been living in the hospital room with him, the three of us (Mom, Grandma, and Me) chatted for a minute and we left.

We couldn't have stayed for more than 20 minutes. I don't think my mom could really handle me being there. I think as my mother she will always see me as a little kid and wanted to protect me from having to be upset. She started talking a little bit about the situation in the car and burst out crying. I felt tears forming in the corners of my eyes too. Not necessarily for Grandpa, but for everyone else. I had felt so much pain emanating from my grandmother when I hugged her in the hospital. I saw it all over my mom's face. Just the fact that she was crying in front of me was a sign that she wasn't keeping her shit together. My family doesn't show emotion in front of other people. So we had a moment and immediately started having some conversation about something remote and distant.... as though nothing was wrong.

My week went by and I once again became wrapped up in my life. I got a call from my mom checking up on me. I told her that when I saw her name on the caller ID I thought she was calling to tell me Grandpa had died. I asked how he was doing. She burst into tears on the phone. She told me he was doing awful and she couldn't bear to see him in his condition. I told her Another Breath had a show in Oswego on Saturday and that I'd be coming to spend the day with her beforehand.

Saturday rolled around and she called me in the morning to tell me she was at the hospital. She told me to just go home. She didn't want me to see him like this. I told her I'd like to come see her at the hospital. She agreed and I drove straight there. I showed up and saw most of my family -my mom, two aunts, an uncle, and Grandma - sitting in the hospital room; Red-faces as evidence that they'd all done their share of crying that morning. Grandpa was in the hospital bed with an oxygen mask on. He was in some half-drugged out sleep. I felt afraid to get to close to him. He looked so fragile. He barely looked alive. His arms were swollen from where the IVs were pumping in sugar water that his poor circulation was having a hard time bringing to the rest of his body. My aunts and uncles seemed relieved that I was there and started asking me questions about school and my life - anything to take the attention off of the fact that Grandpa was laying there dying and everyone was a wreck over it. Every once in a while the conversation would stop as we all realized that Grandpa hadn't taken a breath in 20 or 30 seconds. We would look at him and eventually he would gasp and swallow up some air. We would all look at each other and the conversation would resume.

When there was silence I would sit and stare. I looked around the room and I pictured my aunts and uncles as little kids. I pictured Grandma and Grandpa as 20somethings raising hell. I sat and wondered why this man who's stomach had all but been replaced with tumors was still holding on so tightly. I imagined him recounting his life. I imagined him working up the strength to speak a word or two before finally letting go. I imagined him struggling with the pain in the room along with his own fear of what happens when he finally does let go. I wondered how aware he was of anything that was going on around him. When he finally woke up I went over and put my hand on his head and told him who I was and that I was here. He looked at me and tried to smile. He couldn't. I saw him laying there, locked inside an ever weakening body. I tried to squeeze out a smile. There were tears in my eyes. It was so much harder seeing him awake than it was seeing him sleeping.

My Grandmother had run a quick errand and was still gone when he woke up. My aunt MaryJane reached over and whispered in his ear "Mom will be back soon. Hold on until she gets back. Just hold on until she gets back." Grandma walked into the room. I looked at him and I said goodbye and we all left Grandma and Grandpa alone. My mom started crying again. We were all thinking the same thing. Now that he was awake he was going to say goodbye and let go. It didn't happen.

I told everyone about my show and how I didn't feel right about playing. They told me not to be silly. They told me I should play. They told me Grandpa would tell me the same. They were right. The show, ironically, was right across the street so I walked over and started helping set up. I was in such a haze. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I felt so wrong for being there. I talked a little bit about it to my friends Chuck and Kelley and they kind of hugged me and told me everything would be ok and that I was doing the right thing being at the show. It eased my nerves. I watched the first couple of bands and went back to the hospital. Grandpa was asleep again. I sat with him for about an hour and went back to the show.

After a couple of bands it came time for Another Breath to play. I tried to concentrate but I couldn't. I was so jittery. I've never been so nervous before a show in my entire life. Before we started I felt this giant ball in the pit of my stomach like I had swallowed a shopping bag full of rocks. I hadn't cried even though I felt like I should have.... for Grandpa, for my heartbroken family, for me. I knew that I was going to try to just purge when we played. I was genuinely worried about what was going to come out. I pictured myself on the floor crying my eyes out and just wailing my head with a microphone. I told everyone what was going on before we started playing. I told them about how AB is an outlet and has been an emotional outlet for me. I felt my whole body shake. I heard my words crack and shake. I braced myself for what was to come. The music started... I started screaming... and nothing came.

Playing the show had the opposite effect I was hoping for. I didn't connect more with myself. If anything I became more detached. I became a guy in a band singing songs and performing for a crowd. I saw the kids singing along and I smiled. I was happy to be having fun and I guess I just kind of forgot about everything for a while. I screamed as loud as I could and I exhausted myself in every possible way.

Afterward, while I was doing a not so great job of hiding behind amps, people came up to me and did the usual "good show" handshake and offered condolences for what was going on or just started talking about other random bullshit. I wished they would have just left me alone. I felt like an asshole thinking that and I feel like and asshole saying it here because all anyone was trying to do was to tell me they liked my band or to try to comfort me in some way but it's true. I just wanted to be left alone to catch my breath and try to sort out what the hell was going on with me. I wanted to get the fuck out of there. I wanted to get as far away from there as humanly possible. I wanted to know how my Grandfather was doing and I desperately wanted news that he had just let go already.

I went over to the hospital and sat with him for about an hour before I went to my mom's house and fell exhausted on the bed.

In all of this wreckage I've found some real positives. My poor mom is taking this so hard and I've felt like me being around has helped her cope a little bit. I felt awful leaving her house this morning. The look on her face was begging me to stay and I wish I could have. At the same time though I think she needs time to think. When we were in the hospital she would start crying and I would hold her for a little while. She started asking me if his brain was just automatically breathing for him or if he was consciously fighting to stay alive. She asked me what I thought was happening inside his head. She told me she wished he would just let go. I've never felt so close to her in my entire life as I did yesterday.

My entire family, who usually seems so disconnected to me, has really come together for each other. I've never felt like I had a family that really was open and honest and cared about each other. I always just thought we saw each other on holidays and tolerated one another until it was time to go home. And honestly, that could have been the case, but in that hospital room we were all holding each other up. We were all taking care of each other. We were all hurt so bad in our own ways but we found a way to share our strength with each other. I've never felt that before in my life. It was beautiful. I think that was a big part of why I spent so much time in that hospital room. I'd like to think Grandpa knows we're there and realizes how lucky he is to have a family there for him. What I know is that everyone felt how lucky they were to have each other. As we all struggled with the looming departure of my Grandfather we also felt everyone else in the room holding onto one another. We all came to terms with the fact that even if this doesn't last past this particular situation that family is something we have in a time of need. That's a really comforting thought.

I also realized in all of this that I have some great friends. Between last night and this morning they've really given me a lot. Actually, they give me a lot all the time whether I care to acknowledge it or not. Something as simple as having me over for breakfast and understanding that I just want to hang out and be left alone is huge. I've felt myself acting like a total weirdo lately between this and other things going on and when shit has gotten ugly someone that I care about has appeared to just come and hang out for a while and take care of me... even if it means sitting around not saying anything.

What it comes down to is that my life sucks and my life is awesome. We're all so used to either being happy or sad. Things are either good or they are bad. But the thing is that those things happen at the same time. I'm really happy right now and I'm really sad at the same time. I've got it really good even though things are really bad. I think it gives people some form of closure or sense of control to pick just one emotion and go with it. As I sit here and try to acknowledge the myriad emotions running around in my body I'm feeling restless and overwhelmed. It would be easier to just pick one and say "I'm this" but I think I'd be missing out on a lot. It would really be too bad if I was so wrapped up in being sad about Grandpa that I missed out on being happy about my family or my friends or my band or my life in general. I can be allowed to be both. It might be confusing but it least it does justice to the fact that my life is more complicated than one event which is supposed to trump everything else.

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Drunk Again

"A trickle of water that constantly flows can drill through a rock" - Gautama Buddha

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