My Father, The Spaghetti Yeti

Seven years ago today, I sat next to my dad and held his hand as he died.

Talk about a pisser, huh? That's one hell of a way to start a blog.

It's hard to believe it's been seven years. Part of me feels like it's been longer, and at the same time, I feel like it hasn't been that long. Seven years can be a hell of a long time. So much has happened in the past seven years. Not seeing or talking to someone for that amount of time can be hell. Seeing how I'm now 27, that's a quarter of my life without having my dad. A quarter of my life not being able to hear his lame jokes, not seeing him play air drums to the Moody Blues, hear his louder than life snoring, and see that damn smile of his that never left his face.

How is it even possible that my dad has been gone for seven years? As years go by, wounds heal, and it becomes easier to deal with the loss. Even though this is true, one thing doesn't change: this fucking sucks.

My dad was diagnosed with chronic malignant leukemia in 1995, when I was in sixth grade. It was his birthday and he cooked himself a big ass steak. An hour or so later, he had some pain in his abdomen. We all contributed it to dinner, something must not have agreed with him. After a couple more hours passed by, the pain was still there and even growing. So, off to the hospital we went. Believe it or not, this was not my dad's first trip to the hospital on his birthday. My dad had snake bitten luck his whole life, always had some sort of health complication. His track record for his birthday wasn't the best, either. It seemed that something always had to happen, so he somewhat dreaded his birthday. Anyway, as it turned out, a gull bladder stone was the cause of the pain, to which they had to remove his gull bladder. Hey, that's not so bad, right? Well, a simple operation turned our lives into something we never expected.

Cheap Shots, Youth Anthems

To be honest, I have had such a serious love/hate relationship with music over the last 6-8 years. Maybe even more. Music has been one of the biggest aspects of my life for well over 15 years now. I don't even want to think about how much money I have spent on music in my life. Between records, shows, shirts... ugh. The number would probably make me so depressed. Although, it is money well spent. I need music in my life.

How could I hate something that I need in my life? Well, over time, things change. One of those things is music. Not necessarily the music I like, but music as an entity. Bands change, shows change, tastes change, scenes changes... that's just how it goes. For many of years, I was going to shows 3-4 times a month, sometimes more. In the last six years, I've been lucky to get to one show a month.

What the hell happened?

There's many possible answers to this, all of which would be appropriate. However, one answer really stands out: Shows. Shows now aren't what they used to be for me. Did I get burnt out on shows? Are there not as many bands currently playing that I like? Are there no shows in the area that interest me? Did most of the venues get shut down? Do I think crowds suck at shows now? Does not having a car prevent me from seeing the shows I want to? To answer all of these, yes. There's been bands I've seen in recent years, bands I am really into, that I've left the show feeling unfulfilled. Majority of the time, it wasn't the band's fault. It was something with me. Something was lacking, something was missing.

All that changed in December, though. December 10, 2010 to be exact.

Braving some ultra shitty Wisconsin weather, I made my way (in a mighty fine rental car) to Madison, to see my good friend, Leah, and check out The Queers. Somehow, I managed to never see The Queers. I can recall all the times I missed them, though. Feeling like I had to see them before they call it quits, this worked out really well. Plus, it was at The Frequency, a venue I've never been to previously.

Don't know if it was something in the air, the PBRs I had, the company I was with, or some other magical bullshit (perhaps ka), but the show was outstanding. The Frequency was this tiny, dark venue, the kind of place I want to see a punk rock show at, and The Queers were way more solid than I expected. Flat out, the show rocked. I felt good, the show felt good. I have not been to a show like that in a long time, and have not enjoyed a show like that in even longer.

Needless to say, when I found out Dead To Me and Off With Their Heads (two bands I've been really into over the last few years, and have never seen live) were playing at The Frequency, I was fucking pumped. And now, the show is tomorrow night, and I am so damn excited. It feels great to get this excited about a show, I missed this feeling.

Sadly, I will have to miss Friday Fright Night, but it is for good reasons. This is what I will be doing. And all I have to say is: Fuck. Yes.

They've Got Me By The Throat

This marks the beginning of my days as a blogger. Sure, we have a blog for Dead Weight, which I do post on quite regularly, but this is the beginning of my personal blog. In other words: Shit's about to get real.

With that said, I live a pretty simple life. I spend a lot of time with music, (horror) movies, comic books, and being on my bicycle. Chances are, that's what the majority of this blog will be dedicated to. However, my interests aren't limited to what I just mentioned. Who knows what the hell I am going to ramble about on here. The only way to find out is by coming along for the ride. Since I don't have pegs on my bike, you'll have to ride on the handlebars.

As Ray Arnold once said, "Hold onto your butts."

Your Mother Ate My Dog