Thursday, January 24, 2013

Lacuna Inc., Where Are You?

I've got a bone to pick with my brain, which is particularly hard to do considering it is absent of bones.  My mind has a mind of it's own, it seems.

Usually I am a fan of dreaming and look forward to sleeping based on this fact, but there are times when my subconscious decides its cool to build a dreamscape out of things I expressly would rather not think about, therefore astrally landing me in the middle of a situation that is emotionally rough.

Those kind of dreams when you wake up and you're thankful at once that it was just a dream, but then it continues to percolate earnestly in your waking life.  You don't want to fall back asleep because you might end up right back where you were, but staying awake is a killer too because now you're actively thinking about how the dream affected you.  It's some inter-cranial bullshit!

Do these dreams come up from trying to actively suppress these hurt feelings and emotions?  Is it even possible to suppress them?  If you're trying not to think about something, aren't you thinking about it to NOT think about it?  Is there an "Eternal Sunshine" procedure in existence?  What I would give to have a little bit of brain damage in place of shitty dreams or thoughts I don't want to think! 

It's the worst when you assume you're fine and then something triggers that spark of a thought, and then it snowballs into an all-encompassing avalanche, and then your whole day is ruined, and then you finally drift to sleep, and then you're pelted in the face with snowballs in dreamland. 

And what's worst of all is that simply by thinking about this feeling or situation, no matter how hard you try to avoid it, you're giving power to it just by thinking about it.  That horrible memory (and cause of that horrible memory) wins by occupying your headspace in the first place.  Fuck that! 

Why would your own brain, designed with fight-or-flight responses to physical danger, not have that same response to emotional attacks?  I suppose we're not at that evolutionary stage yet.  But then again, if humans did have that kind of wiring, I suppose there would be no such thing as compassion anymore.  Any emotionally displeasing thought or situation would be avoided; no more hospice or homeless shelters, therapy or crisis centers.  No more moral responsibility.

It's funny what you're motivated to write about when you're awakened from an unpleasant dream; especially if you didn't expect to write it in the first place.  

Monday, December 31, 2012

Learning Curve

2012.  What a strange year this has been!
I think that I've experienced every facet of up and down as our planet made it's annual orbit around the sun.

My job of 10 years came to an end;
One of my dearest relatives passed away;
I emotionally hit rock bottom;
But...

My band finally got signed to a record label;
I conquered Tough Mudder;
Two of my best friends were wed;
Yes...

My eternal battle with will power and mental strength started leaning in my favor.  I learned more about my own personal survival than at any other time in my life.  I'm a stronger dude.

My, my, my.

I kept telling myself that 2012 was "The Year of the Push", and boy, was it ever. So what will 2013 be the year of?  To tell the truth, I don't want there to be any expectations.  It's time to stop living in the future.  As The Clash made very clear, "The Future Is Unwritten".  Why worry about something that will happen regardless of my involvement in it?  All I can do is steer myself to the points I want to reach, day by day.  As long as I have that perspective, and make the most of whatever is put in front of me, I'll be just fine.

The family and friends I have are the most beloved and loyal beings on earth.  To live for them is to live for myself.  I have no interest in being selfish; there is no happiness living that way, just false "riches".  I'd be nowhere on my own.  There is no such thing as "self-made"; whoever claims that fails to recognize the opportunities that others have given them and claims them as there own, so again, no selfish living for this guy.  Maybe it's in my mentality after being in a band for so long, I don't know.

But I'm happy.

So 2012, you may have kicked my ass in at certain times, but I definitely got in some devastating karate chops.  Listen up, 2013:  I'm coming for you!  And I've got some prize fighters in my corner to back me up!!

Friday, December 7, 2012

Fever Dreams

Last night I dreamt that I was sleeping in my bed
In the astral plane, I was awoken by a figure entering my room
At first I thought it was a young woman, but then it's shape shifted
It became a large man, not fat, but big in proportions
He was bald with a thin moustache, wearing a simple, button-up, white shirt
Suspenders and simple dark slacks
He was clutching a bowler hat at his chest by the brim,
Like a guy from the early 20th century asking for a job
The main characteristic was his head
Aside from the moustache, it was white,
but as he stood in my room, his head gradually changed from light pink to fire red
This occurring didn't seem to effect the man at all
He showed no signs of pain or discomfort
Without him saying a word, I found myself giving advice
"You seem to have a fever. Take some aspirin and put a cool washcloth on your forehead"
He looked at me and nodded
At this point, I found myself actually waking up into reality, real life
Before I realized this, I was still offering my advice to the man,
Half-asleep/half-awake,
I caught myself saying, "Oh, and don't eat anything...Starve a fever, feed a cold."
By the end of the sentence, my eyes were open in the waking world.
I had been talking in my sleep to a stranger I didn't know (didn't actually exist)
Once I realized this, I chuckled to myself, turned to lay on my left side, and fell back asleep.
I wonder if I talk in my sleep often.

Friday, November 16, 2012

The Witch's Oven

A few days ago I had this dream
I found myself in a semi-full classroom, some class in high school, the curriculum I can't recall
The teacher was finishing up some diatribe that I found faults with
I raised my hand and said something smart-assed and there was this hum from the other students that indicated my one-upsmanship
The bell rang before the teacher could respond and the class moved out through the door
You stopped me in the hall afterwards to give me your approval, saying that I should have a pulpit instead of the teacher holding the chalk
We hadn't spoken for awhile; we were nice to each other
We began walking through the campus, both of us knowing where we were headed without speaking about the destination
As we walked I couldn't help but notice this cartoonish "X" of white bandage tape across your nose
When I inquired about what happened, you laughed and said, "I was trying to talk to God"
For some reason my next logical question was, "You did acid?"
You laugh-nodded
I asked you with who and you replied, "Oh, just some guys from Savers"
The answer astonished and disgusted me, but really didn't surprise me
Throughout this exchange we zigzagged the inside and outside of the campus,
over dumpsters, through the gym, past the bike rack
Honestly the path was haphazard to say the least, but it felt like the way way needed to walk to get to our destination
We ended up in the basement corridors; each of us had flyers for a band (the group I couldn't recall), which we began dropping to the ground with the intent of Hansel-and-Greteling our way back to where we came from
We reached our destination, which when we arrived I realized was YOUR destination, and I had only been your escort instead of your partner in crime
It was a doorway, no bigger than the size of a large cupboard, residing in the middle of a big, barren hallway that was all concrete and windowless
You opened the door and crawled in, having a seat while clutching your schoolbooks
I noticed 3 other people inside the cupboard-door that I didn't recognize
I stood looking downward towards you
You then said, "Go do your own drugs"; smiled and closed the door
I kept my place alone in the corridor for a moment/forever
Eventually I turned around and followed the flyer trail back from where we came
I never reached the outside before I woke up and wrote down this dream.

Monday, October 1, 2012

Lighthouse

Today, my family and I said goodbye to a very much beloved matriarch, my great-aunt Barbara Bolton.  To our clan, she will always be remembered as AB (Aunt Barbara).  It's a nick name my mom, her siblings, and their cousins came up with when they were kids and it stuck through my generation. 

AB was the most selfless and caring person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing;  I feel extremely fortunate that she was a family member of mine.  In fact, as my Grandma and I were looking through photo albums to gather pictures to display at her funeral service, it was quite difficult to find many that featured her because AB was always the one snapping shots.  She just wanted everyone around her to be happy.

AB never complained about anything.  I mean, she NEVER complained about anything.  I don't think that our family will ever know how much pain she was experiencing at the end of her life because she never wanted to trouble anyone.  My great-aunt never said an unkind thing about anyone (well, maybe Mike Scioscia when she didn't agree about a choice he made when the Angels were playing).  Even then AB's response was to write a letter to the organization with suggestions on how to better the team's play.

My great-aunt loved the beach.  Sea shells and lighthouses in particular.  And I feel that a lighthouse represents AB perfectly.  She was a guiding light to those who knew her; leading by example being her forte.  If I live another 50 years, I could never reach the level of kindness and acceptance that AB exuded.

There will never be another AB.  I am so lucky that I got to have her for almost 29 years.  She taught me to never take things for granted and to find happiness and joy everyday.  I learned to make family and friends the cornerstone of my life and to not sweat the small stuff.  There's no way to convey how much I'll miss her, the way she always greeted me, "Hey Micah!"; even when she was in her final days in pain, I still got that warm greeting and loving smile.  My life is better for her having been in it and that's something I'll never forget.

Much Love, AB.  I'm glad you are finally at peace.


Saturday, September 15, 2012

Niche

A somewhat unfavorable task
leads me to my ultimate passion
I find the divots in the rug where it's been before
and align
I loosen and tighten the metal fasteners,
erecting stands and attaching pedals
Cymbals in place, I grasp them,
lifting and pushing them down to ensure that
when I strike, they hit nothing
allowing their resonating tones to ring
My key makes heads taut or slack,
making rolls easier to conduct,
hits more effective

All is now in place

I grab a stick in each hand
and begin
First making a round to each individual component
then combining rimshot, bass drum, cymbal, and rack
I access my knowledge of arrangements in my mind
and decide what to compose or recreate

With aggressive intent,
I pummel my drums into submission
Within seconds I have transported myself into
another dimension
where everything I do makes sense
Even when I falter, I know why and what I must do
to correct my mistakes
Perfection is a myth and to me that is perfect
If I could blast everything without a lapse,
there would be no reason to continue
Enjoyment in this comes when I unlock the pattern
I've been striving to accomplish

My mind is a grid of accented colors
My eyes are closed to hone my remaining senses
My limbs flail in controlled chaos
My head shakes back and forth on my swiveling neck, erratic yet intentional
My focus is absolute

Flakes of wood shower my feet,
my drumsticks giving way to my unrelenting battery
Even at more restrained bars of play
My subtle force makes kindling
Cymbals bend and crack
Jagged slats that were whole
before my interference
Heads wane and form permanent concavities
I've been there countless times prior

My destruction is my pleasure
I wouldn't have it any other way



Tuesday, September 4, 2012

A Wasteland to Wallow In Together

When you hurt, I hurt
I wish I was there
To comfort you
To dry your eyes
To eat Chinese food at our favorite restaurant
To be nothing but a shoulder

I miss the nights when the rain was pouring down
The metropolitan streets to the brink of overflow
Me on the stoop, smoking my god-awful cigarettes
You curled up on the couch with a book or sketch pad
Some of my happiest memories are of us just being

Flea market treasures
Lamps shaped like corpulent ballerinas
Cheap shades that look expensive
Lighters as pocket knives
Merry New Year!!

One day we'll share the same zip code
And these laments will mean nothing
I am enamored by this future scenario
Exiting this neon wasteland
for a wasteland of skyscrapers
A wasteland to wallow in together

At least we can rely on each other there
No matter who comes along and promises
A dreamland
We know that it doesn't exist
And we are fine with that