Holidays, Hospitals and Things Left Unsaid

These holidays always turn me melancholy.

I drink more...and laugh more...

And for some reason it's okay to love more.

No one looks at me sideways.

I drive and listen to orchestral Christmas music.

And I tear up very easily.

When I roll through poor neighborhoods I imagine the children and their parents and how the holidays highlight the disparity between the haves and the have-nots.

My heart aches and I want to save every last one of them.

One year I was drunk and explaining this to my friend.

I told her how I wanted to anonymously give them all what they needed for Christmas.

On Christmas morning all the children would look up at their parents and feel so loved and taken care of.

And the parents would wonder what happened and their faith in miracles would be renewed.

My friend was laughing hysterically and said "You know what you are describing, don't you?"

I looked at her quizzically and she said "You want to be Santa Clause." and she fell over laughing.

I had never thought of it that way, but yeah, sure.

But of course, it is obvious I am just trying to heal some wound in myself right?

That I am trying to save that little Mykl who wondered why Santa didn't bring him presents when I tried so hard to be good...

But I can't save the world.

And children go hungry.

And little ones fall through the cracks and I cannot catch them...

And Santa skips a lot of houses in the hood...

And people tell their kids that it is because they were bad, because that is easier than admitting the truth...

And I don't even come close to knowing how to mend these tiny broken hearts...

So I drive to the hospital to visit my mother and she has once again nearly died and once again I am limbo between wanting to love her the way I imagine a son is supposed to love his mother...

And wanting to be angry at her for what she did to me and what she let others do to me.

But it is too late for all that...

The time for "Why didn't you protect me?!" has passed...

We are all too old for that now...

And she doesn't know anyway.

No one knows anything...

But there are other people there...other family members who I never see.

Simple people...who I used to hate for their simplicity...

And I am starting to appreciate now for their simplicity...

And I don't know what to say to these people...

And I feel that they hate me..but I realize that is just me projecting...

So I accept that I have nothing to say to them so I talk to them about simple things...

And I keep my opinions to myself...not because I am fake, but because I know they wouldn't understand and I don't want to hurt them...

And we talk about football...and we talk about food...and we talk about things I don't care about at all...

And it's not so bad...

The things I imagine define me I had to leave at the door.

They don't know I am a feminist...

They don't know I am a gay rights supporter...

They don't know I am a singer in a rock band...

I might as well tell them I am a space alien...

They talk about Jesus and they talk about  9/11...

They talk about Peyton Fucking Manning!!

And then one of them ask me if I like Linkin Park...

Which would have been enough to make me throw a punch a few years ago, but I realize it is not meant to be offensive...

It is their way of trying to understand me..and to connect with me...

So I say "Well...they certainly are very successful. My band could learn a lot about marketing from them."

Because I appreciate this effort and want to reciprocate...

And then my uncle says "You probably don't remember planting potatoes with me when you were a little kid."

"I was four." I say.

"Yeah!!" he is excited "And I enjoyed digging those holes with you so much that I knew right then that I wanted to have a boy of my own and that's why I asked you to marry me." and he looks at my aunt.

They smile at each other and their eyes twinkle and I think about their kids and try to remember them.

I remember that they have four...all adults now.

"It's because of you that I have this amazing life." he says.

"It was at night I say...I always thought I imagined that."

Everyone is smiling...

And somehow...for a moment...everything makes sense.

Christopher Walken

If I were Christopher Walken and I was feeling down...

I would go to the mall...

And visit a shoe store...

And try on some boots...

And I would just keep my head down and keep messing around with them...

Tying and retying them...

Until an assistant came over and asked me if I liked the boots...

Then I would look up and say...

"Well...as a matter of fact...you might say...these boots are MADE for Walken"

I'm pretty sure that would pull me out of my funk.

ArtCorp

I think I will start a company that paints the work of famous artists on the sides of bombs...

So the U.S. Military can get a little culture...

While they slay innocent men, women and children...

In countries we have no business in...

So maybe they will eventually develop a conscience...

And also so I can use the phrase...

ArtCorp: We put the ART in ARTILLERY!!

1997

Do people still blog?

Is this 1997?

I AM wearing my flannel...but only because I am cold.

As I doubt anyone will ever see this I will just spill it out.

Honestly I am not going to take my pen and paper to the coffee shop probably ever again.

Although I do romanticize such things...

I sit there and write and imagine that some beautiful girl will be reading one of my favorite books and we will start talking and finish each other's sentences and both of us know that we will think about each other the entire rest of the day.

An alliance will be formed that will never be broken...

I fast forward through us living together...

I get nervous about all the problems I imagine we will have...

I picture tears and holding and healing and then I realize...

That I have had that fantasy as long as I can remember and I live in Indiana, where the people seem to be trapped in some neanderthal mindset and prefer Gangham Style to Kasabian and wouldn't know cool if I tattooed it on my dick and slapped them in the face with it.

But, it's always been like that...

Life is high-school part 2...

Some would say "Dude, it's just you. You're the freak."

I know...I accepted that long ago and have no desire to conform.

Not because I am some punk-rock rebel.

I have no energy for that.

Just because I have dabbled...

I have seen how the other 99.9% live and I don't think they have a pulse.

I choose to be alive and alone...

My records are my friends...

How fucking cliche and pretentious is that?

And seriously, I am fucking blogging...

So clearly I want acceptance.

Self-awareness...what a curse.

I spend most of my time in solitude.

If I am not working on music I am working on promoting it on the internet.

It is a barren existence of creating content for various social websites and then waiting on other people to do their jobs...

Coma Dolls has a web-development team.

A fucking WEB DEVELOPMENT TEAM!!!

When I was a kid learning how to play and write songs I couldn't imagine saying something like that.

How fucking rock n roll is that?

But it is reality.

Without business people no one would ever hear the music we create...

And we made a conscious decision that we want people to hear us.

We would have a publicist, but right now we can't afford one.

So I am the band's publicist which means I spend about 6 hours per day promoting our shit and creating content so people will follow us.

And not even musical content...

No one really has the attention span for music anymore...

It has to be this 24 hour light show with music occasionally sprinkled in.

Example...

http://comadolls.tumblr.com/

Pretty lights to gain followers then "Oh yeah, btw PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE listen to our music."

But you can't seem needy or else no one wants it.

Music is such a tiny part of the media spectrum these days...

And being an idealist..wishing for the days of record players and blacklight Led Zeppelin marijuana induced listening parties will get us nowhere.

So I keep asking myself...

"How do you make people love YOUR music the way YOU love music?"

And so far I don't have an answer...

So I keep clicking...and hoping it will come...