My life has been pretty interesting lately. I have been doing lots of really cool life-changeing type stuff.
But I can't write about it.
For the past two months I have been traveling and seeing people and just really great stuff has been happening.
I broke up with my girlfriend and moved in with my dad in l.a.
All I can think about, however, is the same thing. A fender amp emitting the soothing sounds of a mildly distorted power-chording. A fuzzy bass guitar vibrating my feet. A small drum set raining down a steady pulse. The sensation of my voice box rumbling from a whisper to a yell. Jumping around. The guidance counselor says to make your passion into your profession. Me, I am passionate about yelling and screaming and jumping around, but I seldom allow myself to do it, let alone make it my profession.
Two things I could tell somebody else how to do, but no way I could do them for myself, are, writing a novel and starting a band.
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I've been reading Lester Bangs lately. I think he's an asshole, and a lot of his stuff is crap, but I keep reading because like me, he has some sick attachment to Rock and Roll. He makes mention of this magical power in it. In an interview with Richard Hell, they talk about the capacity for Creating Your Self via Rock and Roll. Now, it's not like I'm unhappy with myself and need to recreate it. As a matter of fact, I am pretty dang proud of myself and what I've done with my life up until this moment, back at daddy's and everything. But there is one thing missing. One hole I need to fill. I've been practicing and learning how to fill it for about three years, and now it seems like a matter of courage.
Funny thing, I learned a little lesson about courage in Montana. We were jumping off rocks, and that type of shit scares the living hell out of me to the point where I have no problem pussing out, but this day I had decided that I was going to do it all the way. I started small, like 10 feet or something. I felt lame for doing it, but shit, I was scared at that height and I had to work my way up to the top, which was about 30 or 35 feet. Next one was about 20 feet, and that was where I learned the trick. You can't give yourself the opportunity to think. Once the moment comes you have to kind of shut down your brain and become an animal with a goal. JUMP OFF THE ROCK INTO THE WATER.
After that I went to the top and flew. I can see the view down to the water in my mind right now. It is beautiful up there in space with the adrenaline taking over and nothing below you but crystal blue. I became addicted. Still shit scared, but addicted. I jumped off the big rock over and over until it was time to leave. I landed poorly on the last jump and my right arm was covered with bruises for the next day. I showed it off with the line "It was worth it."
I only wish forming a functioning rock and roll band was as simple as jumping off a rock. I suppose, somehow, I've got to translate this lesson about fear into the realm of long term goals.
