Peeps, here’s your find-a-space-in-the-sunshine Friday jam to blast you threw your workday. The audio’s not the best but it’ll do in broad daylight.
The Crow soundtrack is still one of my favorite goto albums. So many good bands, so much good music. I think I bought a CD from every artist on it. Okay, Ghostrider wasn’t Rollin’s best work but see also Machines of Loving Grace and Jesus and the Mary Chain. See also Jack be nimble, Jack fall dead.
1994 was a pretty stellar year. I was two years sober, living with my brother, Scott, in a rinky-dink apartment, drove a three-speed manual black Chevy truck. Also, had my first relationship with girl that didn’t revolve around getting fucked up. I was, brace yourself, growing up. Even went and saw NIN and Marilyn Manson sometime that year. Because that’s what you do when you’re a grownup. 😉
At the time I didn’t realize how good life was, didn’t appreciate the magic under my feet. Head too full of chatter to stop, look around, and say, “this is pretty awesome.” My brother and I recorded over two CDs full of music in those days, a lot in that dinky apartment. One time we played in front of maybe 30 people in this darkly cool venue. You think I’m nervous in public now, oh my god…the horror. And they threw flowers after and I thought for sure we were well on our way to something bigger. And we might have been but he had his cosmic flight plan and I had mine. Chapters end while the book keeps going.
I still have the acoustic guitar I played at the time, the one I got from one of our friends for $25. Chris died somewhere along the way but in my memories he’s still part of my tribe from that era. Him and his ponytail.
Life was all pretty good. Pretty, pretty good. Pretty good even if Kathy, my girlfriend-turned-wife, did end up falling in love with somebody else and breaking my heart. She had her own flight plan that didn’t involve me. And that’s good because commitment and loyalty can be overrated. If something’s not working we’re better off just to quit.
Anyways, all those memories piled up in sleeping bags give me almost more gratitude than I can stand in the here-and-now. Grateful for my tribe today. When Sara and I were in Pizza Mambo earlier this summer I was thinking, “this is what life’s about.” More than anything I’m just grateful. Even if my lymph nodes are all flared up like a pack of dire wolves.
The Gunslinger is on in 8 or so hours and I got frozen veggie meatballs in the freezer.