Today . . . well it really started yesterday, so maybe the last 24 hours? Yeah, that works since I got to the show around 8:30 pm. I can’t decide if I want to write this in short order, or in a more expressive way, which today’s discussion deserves. Ok, here’s a day in my life:

I went to a concert. My ”cousins” were playing with one of my favorite hardcore bands . . . it was even at a venue near me =) We enjoyed the usual devils of the road & it was a great show. I got a free pair of boyshorts, a ringing in my ears, met someone that I’ve wanted to meet for years - best part he walked up to me! This is a platonic meeting, I just think the guy is impressive, with music, business & those growls when he sings!

Anyhow, this is definitely the highlite of my 24 hours. Because that’s around the time I talked to, hmmm, have I named him in this blog ever? Nope, so I’m not going to. There’s only one guy I continue to bang my head against the proverbial brick wall for. Whew, that was long. LOL. Anyhow, we went around the usual bend but it all started with avoidance. An hour later, he’s proclaiming royalty status for us both and bemoaning his broken heart. Talking out of both sides of his mouth. The eternal question: which do I believe? Whatever, yo.

Finally I got home and have a few beers while I thought over the night’s events. When I woke, my best girlfriend told me our friend died that morning. I wonder, will he open Pandora’s box for real now? I don’t mean the “real” Pandora’s box, I mean his mental stores of creativity with words & music. You can do anything when you’re in heaven, nirvana or whatever afterlife you do or don’t believe in. . . we stayed up all night talking about that very topic, Pandora & the afterlife among so many other topics. . . that was last summer. . .  I’m gonna miss him, although I didn’t know him well, I did think highly of him. Rest In Peace Kent Young 1980-2008. He’s doing shots with some of the best musicians now.

It made me realize the breavity of life - some people move through your life quickly, usually leaving an impact . . . what impact would I want to have? What do I need to tell everyone? So I called my love, my singer. . . not the swiftest move, I admit it. Either way, I did it. He’s a little put off by me right now, so I deleted his number from my phone. . . let it go, if it comes back . . . we’ll see what happens. Kent was a singer too. . .

Singers are an odd breed, the lyricst side is all brains, the stage presence is the alter ego, and the truest nature is usually insecure, kind, sweet, funny and confused. Wait a second, maybe they’re really just like the rest of the population. I don’t know, either way, I know quite a few singers and they have a lot of similarities with each other.

You know, I just put what I feel on paper (blog) and I don’t pretend that it’s good, bad or otherwise. . . I do it for me, if someone else thinks it’s cool… well, they do say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. 

caught by surprise . . . . unguarded yet unwilling
attention averted . . . . friend turned to foe
time & space patched . . . . all of the wounded
jumped in the lake . . . . caution became the wind
mismatched minds . . . . forced (faux?) freedom
avoidance lays down in the lion’s den . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . full of fear & shameless surrender

So, that said, Singer & I have a tentative date for a real date. Ironic, it still involves music, but it will be a show where we don’t know anyone but each other. Until then I’m going silent on him, I need to think & so does he.

Meanwhile, I have a different kind of date with the Singer from last night, we’re having chicken wings when his band plays here. He could be an interesting friend to have, very motivational.

See that’s the real point of this blog, how people pass through your life. . . . . I lost a friend this morning, I may have made a new friend last night, I also celebrated with one of my oldest friends today - for it’s his birthday - the day we met 17 years ago. How many relationships last that long - and ours is not based on sex. He’s my ace from the old neighborhood, you have to be a city kid to know what I mean. When I met him, I never had a thought about the possibility that he & I would be friends for life, but here we are.

I guess I don’t really think about people when I meet them, I didn’t realize birthday boy & I would have such a long friendship, I didn’t realize that Singer would become MY Singer, I didn’t realize that my admired singer was standing in front of me last night until he spoke. I should start paying more attention. I always listen when they talk though.

*BIG SIGH* It’s been a very fucked up 24 hours with a few bright spots. I’m exhausted.

I’m going to listen to a band called Buried By Angels. . . The Plague of Pandora.

Before I go, I pay a little homage to a father, singer, friend, a very cool dude . . . Kent aka SIXX

           

            

The Plague of Pandora - Buried By Angels

This old chello is playing our song again.
And I have not slept for days.
Her strings cut like a razor blade.
Each note will stain your blood.

Like walking backwards on a tight rope.
To see the world from the top

So fucking anxious
To tear the skin from you

So fucking empty
So fucking hopeless

This fuse will light, sending poison to my heart.
I know the consequences
When my page will turn no more, will you be looking in these eyes.

You’ve sold this poison to me, by virtue of a lie
Now its become one with me, and will not die alone

Like running naked through a glass house
To hide the scars from your past

This fuse will strike, sending poison to my heart.
I know the consequences, and
When my page will turn no more, will you be looking in these eyes.

Like sleeping tightly in a house fire
To meet your maker for breakfast