"The time has come," the Walrus said, "to talk of may things."

I've been feeling very quiet lately, which is probably why I haven't posted in a while. I'm not sad or super happy, I'm somewhere in the middle. I feel the sort of contentment you do when a lot has changed but you come out the other side of, yet another failed something or other, and you've survived, so it's ok.

I'm living with my dad(s) now officially. I'm all unpacked and I absolutely adore living there. It's really, really lovely. I like spending the time with my dad(s) and there isn't a lot of overhead lighting. I'm surrounded by beautiful things and there's always something on the stove or in the fryer.

I was walking through downtown Ferndale the other day and I felt really content. I love fall and I love this town and all of the people in it. I feel like I've taken some sort of happy pill/sedative combo. I have no idea what i want out of anything, from anyone or what i want to do with my life. And I'm really ok with that.

Right now, not knowing is the greatest feeling ever. I've known too much this year, carried so much weight on my shoulders that a break from that sort of responisibility/anxiety is so incredibly fabulous, I'm having a hard time expressing it w/o sounding incredibly cheesy/lame.



I thought about throwing my phone in the pond yesterday and not to be emo or dramatic; it just seemed like a good idea. But if there was an emergency id be fucked/out of the loop, so i didn't. But I really like this sort of disconnect I've felt these past few weeks.

It's even stranger b/c of the election and the state of our nation/the economy. There are so many things to freak out about. But I've done the best I can thus far and I will do my part again in november and there's not much i can change beyond that, so why get all worked up?

See, what I mean? It's creepy how calm I've been lately. Although, I should specify that by "calm", I mean I have basically avoided anything that would upset me.

For instance... any and all serious conversations are pretty much avoided completely whether they are via text, in person, over the phone (ps, i HATE talking on the phone to most anyone save for the people who live out of state who i never get to see) or email or whatever. I drop everything even slightly scary like a hot potato/bad habit/some other cliche and walk away. I just don't care.

I don't think I have the capacity to care for much right now. I'm a little tapped out in that department.

Lately, I identify a lot with this guy:



I've got sort of a hallow-tin-chest thing going on. It's really nice, though. Trust me. This is me being honest, not emo. I feel fantastic.

A lot of shit has gone down this year and I feel like I'm finally seeing a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. I feel like I'm doing a good bit of growing up too, which is pretty awesome.

I spend most of my nights at home working on music and watching my girlfriend on the teevee.



[Sidenote: I stage managed a production of The Wiz once. It was pretty awesome. When i went searching for a picture of The Tin Man, I thought back to the show I worked on at HFCC (ps: i think i learned more there than i did anywhere else even though i hated being there. they were underfunded and the director was a jack ass and everything smelled like a rotten appendage. but, dammit, i learned how to run a show and adopted a newfound aversion to sardines, almonds and shirts with holes in them. Anyway, here's a picture from that production.]



As of late, I have been fighting a bitch of a cold. I have officially annoyed the shit out of the few people I work with because of my incessant coughing. I have promised them on a number of occasions that I am doing everything in my power to fight the coughing. But still, the coughing continues. I'd stay home from work, but I'd rather be making money. And I've always had this rule, first put in place by my mother: "if you're not projectile vomiting, you're fine. go to work/school/wherevs". And she's right. I mean, personal obligations, like dinner plans or a movie or something, I've been cancelling those left and right cause I'm basically a walking sess pool of germs. But I will not skip out on work. I've never skipped out on work for a cold in my entire life.

Once, I had a tooth pulled on my lunch break, went back to work and finished out the day, gauze and all. Another time I lost my voice for three days in a row and I still went in every single day I was scheduled. I had my wisdom teeth pulled on a friday and by sunday i was still really swollen and miserable and the power was out in our house and most of our town and it was the dead of winter, but I still went to work because I was scheduled and we had generators to sell.

So, I definitely did not give even a moment's thought to not coming in to work. I don't care how annoying I am with my coughing. I want a normal paycheck, dammit. And since they won't put me on the health care plan yet, I feel like they deserve to listen to my cough.

One good thing about staying in and not getting sloshed on an all too regular basis is that I don't wake up feeling like shit anymore. Even with the cold, I feel better in the morning than I have in years. I know it's not rocket science, but some of us(mostly just me, probably) are a lot slower at learning some things.

I've become a little loopy and a lot goofier, I think. Exhibit A: band practice this past friday. I was swaying around a lot more than usual and doing a sort of interpretive dance to a couple songs. I think I probably acted a lot like I do when I'm drunk, just a lot quieter.



So, let's play catch-up on everything that you've missed since I last posted something here (a month and a half ago, ps)...

My dad's birthday was a hot mess. This photo really captures how ridiculous/fun that night was.



Then, less than a week later, I had my birthday. Jack Sparrow made me a hat. It was supposed to be a platypus.



Then, McMannus had her birthday. It started with hand made unicorn costumes...



and ended, like so many other nights at Soho do: on the 9 mile pony...



Roughly a week or so later (give or take, my memory is cloudy), I invented the bluetooth. You're welcome.



A few weeks after that, someone wrote this on the bathroom stall. And, ps, as of a few weeks ago, Soho started smelling absolutely awful. I mean, make you wanna vom, awful. It basically smelled like musty basement, wet, stale cigarettes, 3 day old caramelizing beer, and poopy shit.

The women's bathroom smelled like crotch rotch. And i apologize for using the term, but it is completely and totally accurate. I threw up in my mouth a little bit and i only had one drink. Trust me. It was bad.

I think it was because no one was cleaning the bathroom. There was a red shirt in the big handicapped stall that remained there for at least a week. I know, because i took pictures of it on my phone and sent it to Chelsea.

the nasty ass shirt:


the writing on the wall:


The other night at band practice, I caught Noel's cat Onyx drinking out of the toilet.



Thanks, to a one, Ms. Chelsea Fucking Carter, I have been listening to Adele somewhat obsessively. Now, before you start talking crazy, I am still madly in love with Missy Higgins and I've been playing "Secret" a lot lately (on the guitar. it's 3 notes, ps. ha!). But! I cannot get this song out of my head:

"Cold Shoulder" - Adele


And can we talk about how amazing Amy Poehler is at rapping?



I literally LOL-ed when I saw this the first time. Love, love, love it. I mean, she's soooo ready to pop and she's rapping with guys dressed up as Eskimos while shooting a different guy in a moose costume. I can't believe she's still on the show cause that kid is gonna come popping out in 2.5. Seriously. I feel like her water's gonna break in the middle of a show. And how funny is that kid gonna be? For anyone who doesn't already know, she's married to Will Arnett from Arrested Development (one of the greatest shows ever, ps) and Blades of Glory. They played husband and wife in the former and brother and sister in the latter. Both were hysterical.



Remember when "that's what she said" entered popular culture? Yeah, I do. It was funny, maybe the first 100 times I heard it and then a good friend of mine (for the sake of anonymity, we'll call him "Joe") picked it up and decided to run with it. I am not exaggerating when I say that, for the better part of a year, he could be counted on to say it after every single slight innuendo that would come up in conversation.

When he started saying it before anyone spoke, we knew it was probably time to cut him off.

Now, it's been quite some time since I've heard anyone throw the phrase around, but I made the mistake of talking about how much I hate it the other day while emailing Dave and Jen. This is what transpired after:

JEN's FRIEND: I had some fries today, for shame. I didn't eat too many, though, b/c they were thick and I like skinny, crispy ones.
JEN: Where did you go?
JEN'S FRIEND: Campus.
JEN: Jealous. I like the big thick ones.

JEN'S RESPONSE (to her own comment): That's what she said.

And then I heard from Dave...

JEN: Elida hates when people end things with "that's what she said". We have to be sure to start doing it around her a lot.
DAVE: That's what she said.

I can honestly say that I literally LOLed at their emails. Oh, btw, I think they stand a good chance at posing as the couples inside picture frames. Exhibit A:




I <3 Dave and Jen!


So, it's fall and the leaves are turning colors and I want to go for a walk or go to a cider mill or something. Oh! And i wanna bake apple pies. I freaking love apple pies. I would sell my first born into slavery for one of my mom's apple crisps. I swear to allah, i would totally do it.

I'd like to leave you with the following three videos:

1. "Run So Fast" Missy Higgins Live @ The Blind Pig 10.12.08: Chelsea took this video with my camera. Missy is so damn good and you won't find this song anywhere else yet...


2. Rachel Maddow (aka my gf): she rocks my world.


3. Julia Nunes: this girl tears some shit up on the ukulele. Check out her cover of "Survivor" by Destiny's Child:

i'm so hungry right now, i could eat your leg off. and i'm a vegetarian.

This year has been rough. I know I've mentioned it maybe one hundred times, but it has been. Furthermore, I am more than aware that it could be worse for me, for anyone, now, in the past, something that hasn't even happened yet. I know it all too well. Yet, I still feel so incredibly frustrated by the course the year has taken.

January was interesting. I cut out an longtime friend, was in the throws of a new relationship, gave up on another friend, started a band and was the subject of an intervention of sorts.

In February, I hadn't even drifted to sleep after a night of confessions when I saw the flames billowing. Days later I dug my shit out of the wreckage, said goodbye and left a message. Less than a week later, I was laid off by the worst employer I have ever encountered. Never, ever work for a law firm, unless you are a masochist or like working with lawyers, or enjoy working with assholes that treat you like shit. Just a suggestion.

Anyway, that job was gone and I was crashing literally and figuratively in a hollowed out cave of an apt. down the street from the one I used to call home. It was cold and the ceilings were high, the floors bare. Every move was echoed.

I hated that place. The way the rabbits would claw at the bottoms of their cages, hoping against all odds, that this time, they'd free themselves. And for what? I'm not sure. Ever if those damn things somehow found freedom, they'd probably freeze in terror. You see, rabbits are not very thoughtful creatures.

Everything was put on hold in February. I waited and waited for a job and the cold winds wouldn't let up, so we clung to each other, her and I. And we watched movies and made the same food for dinner every night.

One night, I was hit in the face with a fig newton.

In March, I landed a job. It seriously dropped straight out of the sky. I didn't apply, didn't interview. After maybe four emails total, I received a phone call: "you start Monday."

I started Monday.

The job began slowly. There was a lot of waiting around, a lot of checking and re-checking Facebook and making conversation with a mother-daughter team I could barely stand. I don't do well with adults who speak in baby voices. Never have. I think it is bar none, one of the most unacceptable forms of speaking, regardless of age.

The days and weeks between then and now are considerably blurry. A lot of shit has gone down. A lot with her. Lost a friend, gained some new ones, got the band going again, got the cops called on us.

And those cops, let me tell you... They loved us. From the moment they crossed the threshold, they were apologies and "you guys sound really good. who's singing? you? wow, your voice in incredible. Who was on the drums? you were awesome...you shook the porch though and your neighbors are pissed. I'm not kidding the house was vibrating."

There were a lot of bar nights, but responsible ones this year, which means that Chelsea ate a lot of chicken fingers. I started drinking beer, which I have long since lobbied against. I can thank Chelsea for that. Those damn Corona's.

There was a period of maybe two weeks when I felt so completely on edge that I feared I would never learn to plan for the future again. I thought I was going to lose her forever. And come to think of it, I still feel that way, especially now. I don't know when I'll be able to function in any other way than trying to power through each day, one at a time, head down. With the job market and the gas prices and this stupid job and some other shit with her that I am not at liberty to mention.

There's a lot. The summer would be looking up a bit more, except now I can't think of much else besides food. My belly has given up on me after only two days of what some would argue as a dangerous lack of sustenance. But I'm too terrified to eat much of anything. I will probably lose this job, the second one this year, a week from today. I learned from the last time, so I do have some money in savings.

But last time, I was writing songs on the couch at night for a month, hoping to hear back from the dozens of applications I had sent out. And you know, it just sucks so much more this time around. This is easily, the best job I have ever had. I make my own hours, work alone most of the time, unless I feel like socializing. I meet new people everyday, make my own appointments. I've discovered nearly all there is to Ann Arbor at this point, and I like it. I was just starting to feel comfortable.

But then last week Friday there was a conversation that closed with a hand shake and a "thanks for all your hard work. we hope to work with you again in the future." And that conversation was right after one telling me I'd have work here indefinitely. And then there was a phone call, "We'd like you to come back on the 9th." And then another phone call, "Actually, can you start back Tuesday? We really need your help."

And then there was a secret email sent around with instructions not to share it with me. But I have made friends with the right people, and so I was handed the confidential email, this one stating, "elida's last day is next week Friday...please do not mention anything to her...run all assignments through me...I'll be handling the planning of her last week."

And like that, I'm on the streets again. In less than a week, there will be no job in Ann Arbor and school is gently screaming in my ear that I'm not done yet, not even close. And there's a video I've been working on that needs to be completed for my sister. There is no alternative. I made a promise. And there are shows to be played. And rent to be paid. And money that is owed, that cannot go without being repaid for another day. It simply can't. And then, there's my belly again, aching for something...

I just want things to turn around, more than I've ever wanted them to. Well, actually, that's not true. I wanted it the most when my mom was sick. But she's better now.

So, technically this is the second most desperate I've felt for a change in pace, luck, karma, anything. And it might. But I'm not gonna bet on it anytime soon. The preceding events have proven that even when it gets better, it only stays that way for a hot second. Eh. Whatevs. I'm done rambling now. Apologizes all around for my sunny disposition and/or desire to return phone calls. I need to figure this shit out.

and whiskers on kittens

I got an email from Kailtyn that made me laugh so hard that my team leader at work was like, "what the hell is so funny over there? [to her daughter/my coworker]: Elida's checking her email again."

Go here and watch the clip I'm talking about.

let's get something out of the way...



I went to a candle light vigil for Miller last night. The picture above really doesn't do it justice. It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my entire life. I felt like the entire city of Trenton was on her front lawn holding candles in silence. It was incredible. I would go on an on about it but the point of this post and my writing efforts right now is to steer my brain (and hopefully yours too) in a less painful/stressful/agonizing direction.

Because, you know, through all that's happened so far this year--and i don't know that you'd believe me if i told you all of it--i've grown up a lot and realized that a lot of cliches are true. And maybe they're been repeated ad nauseam for a reason. When it rains it pours... That's been my year thus far.

But, you know, I'm not alone. Whenever I feel like I'm in the middle of the shittiest storm of all time, I get a call from a friend who needs a shoulder or an ear, who's life is shattering simultaneously with mine. And you know what I do? I give it to them. I give them that ear, or that shoulder and ask if there's anything else I can do.

Because, no matter what, someone, somewhere ALWAYS has it worse that you. So, in the wise words of Diane, "put your big girl panties on, pull up your boot straps, and let's go. it's gonna get worse before it gets better."

So, buck up. Call me if you need me. I will be there for you. And when I say, no matter what, absolutely anything, etc... I fucking mean it. I know what it's like. Let's band together through all of our proverbial shit storms, put on our big girl panties and remind ourselves of why we get out of bed in the morning.

If, for some reason, you cannot think of a reason and you're reading this blog, um, there's your reason. There's shit you haven't read yet. So much, especially if you're here. I have so many wonderful things that I'm going to share with you. So, you know, thanks for reading. I promise you, someone does love you and will miss you one day.

If you don't believe me, call me and I'll tell you more about Miller and the vigil and her mother and the entire city of trenton reaching out to a girl who never felt accepted. Trust me. Someone cares.

now onto the reason you're still reading...
Last night I was feeling like a total bell jar, so i went to my favorite spot. See, I used to go jogging, all the time, (and yes that was a soft "j" in jogging) and there was one spot on my route that always made me feel good. I have no idea why it makes me feel that way. It's along what it technically a drainage ditch, but looks more like a stream, there are train tracks within spitting distance and it's not super easy to get to.

It's quiet, dead quiet, save for the train that passes by occasionally and the water reflects the sky vividly but abstractly enough to resemble a Monet. There is a little bridge and the water is calm as it passes by underneath me. I stare into the water and announce that if i could, I would pay $10,000 to be able to jump into the sky I see in the water. If it were possible, I would jump into that water and transport myself into the sky, flying around in some parallel universe, where they don't have fatal car crashes, buildings don't burn and no one has an illness.

I've stared at that water for hours before, wishing to fly. And, you know, the wishing is enough for me. I can totally imagine myself floating around, feeling the wind on my face, looking down on the Earth from so far away.

the weather
Living in Michigan is not exaclty synomomous with "great" weather. But, sometimes, I feel like we stick around for that odd day when she sun is out and the wind is a slight breeze and we can roll our windows down and not be hot or cold. We can share our music with the rest of the roadways, via open windows, and feel like there are other people in the world. The kids come out to play and ride their bikes and my street isn't just the sound of wind chimes.

Yesterday was like that. It was so beautiful. I got out work early and then proceeded to get sucked into the worst three errands of my life that included: three trips to two different banks and half of my life at the secretary of state. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs.

stay with me...
But then... "Seek & Destroy" came on. I turned that shit up so loud I thought I was gonna blow my speakers and my eardrums. But it felt so damn good. I'm sure everyone has a song like that. I have a few, actually. And I would like to share them with you. Maybe you'll like one, or all, or none. I think they're pretty eclectic, but whatevs. Anyway...

Seek & Detroy
When I'm pissed off, this song is perfect for blasting. Classic Metallica.


Since U Been Gone
No matter my mood, this song makes me wanna go out and have a blast. On a nice day, it's like nirvana for a few minutes.


Nineteen
I heart Tegan and Sara and this is my favorite song by them.


Caring Is Creepy
This song has gotten me through some pretty tough days. It's easily one of my favorite songs of all time.


Shadow of the Day
This is my song of the moment. I don't even like Linkin Park very much. But this song is ballin.


PS, this story makes me really happy...

so...
i was in the car with Chelsea and Noel last weekend on our way to Toledo. We had practiced for a little while before we left and I think, in general, we feel really good about the music and us playing together, live, recording, what have you. We were already in a good mood and pumped for Gilda's and then "Since U Been Gone" came on the radio and Chelsea and I squealed like little girls for one good solid breath and then pulled it together in time to belt out the entire song.

Saturdays
For the first time in a long time, I love Saturdays something fierce. I have a 9-5, mon-fri job right now, so Saturdays are my fav. It usually means I don't need to wake up at any certain time and the chances of practicing are generally pretty good. Since the music thing is usually coupled with a trip out to the bar somewhere with some of my favorite ladies, it makes for a great day. AND i usually lay in bed for a really long time on Sunday, so knowing that all day Saturday is pretty good too.

finding shit you thought you lost forever
I cleaned my car out the other day and found two of my Zippos that I was certain had been sucked into the vortex with Papi. But, there they were, under my seat. One of them has the Vitruvian man and the other is my original Jack Daniels lighter. So, I mean, it was a really big deal for me. I thought they had left me forever.

It's just as good as finding money in an old pair of jeans, getting off work early on a nice day, minus the secretary of state, which, ps, was only miserable because i was number "00" and they were on "55" when I got there. And I had to bring everything to a screeching hault because they ran out of numbers. I went up to the counter and asked the woman for more and I could feel the whole room shift, like they were all thinking, you stupid fucking bitch. I am number 57, and I'm late for something really important and my father is sick and i have a headache and if i don't get out of here soon, i will have a meltdown.

The lady went to grab more and was walking at a glacial pace and then the room shifted and they wanted to burn her at the stake in the town square and then click the cover of the number thing was closed and she said, "pull carefully."

I said thank you and spied a little girl trying to sneak her way to the numbers before me. I knew instantly that she was either, a very over anxious child that was told she could pull the number, OR, she had a bitch for a mother who was using her kid as a pawn to get to the numbers before me EVEN THOUGH THEY CAME IN AFTER ME. Either way, I was like, fuck you little girl and/or your mother. I was here first.

So the secretary of state employee woman walked away and i wedged my way in front of this little girl who barely cleared my knee caps and pulled the "00".

But I got out of there alive and finished my errands and picked up the amp I've been waiting for and came home and played with it, and holy shit, it is easily the coolest thing ever.

I would like to leave you with...
one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite bands. I wanted to save it for the end. This song is so effing good. Give it a go. Trust me. As Tall As Lions rock my world in all sorts of ways, including this song:

Ghost of York

2008: Hello. Hi. Please don't suck like last year.

It has been seven days since my last post. Since then, I have drafted and then adandoned at least half a dozen attempts. I am just that cool.

Right now I am very, very tired. I haven't slept much these past few days. Dyke drama is ridic., especially around the holidays, I'm thinking. Maybe? Yes? Probs def yes.

This video has been my favorite thing this week, and maybe my favorite online video ever. It's less than 30 seconds and I LOLed so hard at this thing that I couldn't breath. There really are no words...



Oh, and then, there's this instant classic that I re-watched maybe four times with Frank after watching it at work with Kaitlyn at least three times.



Priceless.

Well, I kind of feel like I'm recapping stuff from the news right now, but this crap is so awesome, I just have to share it. With this next bit, it's not so bad since the story involves people I actually know like, you know, me and Kaitlyn.

Apparantly Jamie-Lynn Spears is pregnant. I know this, because everyone else on this entire planet knows this, so it's my turn now. That's how these things work. I don't have TV, so i rely on most of my friends to filter through all the info that I might want to know. I sometimes check news sites, but those are just filtered in a different way anyhow. So it doesn't really make a difference anyway.

SO...

She's pregnant. Kaitlyn and I went online to investigate because we were bored at work and there's only so many times you can watch either of the videos from above before they lose their brilliance.

So, we looked up Ms. Spears and the tool that knocked her up.




Kaitlyn and I got a good laugh about the whole thing, especially when we tried imagining what might have transpired between little Jamie-Lynn and her proud mother. It said somewhere that she told her mom via a handwritten note that she handed her. We think it looked a little something like this:




Moving on...

I am currently enjoying a peanut butter & jelly & frito's sandwich on wheat bread. Yum! It is approximately the 7,842nd sandwich I've had like that this week. Clearly, I am on a kick. Jean (this woman I work with) said that my sandwich reminds her of something you'd eat in prison, even though she's never been to prison and never tried the sandwich. It's totally delicious, ps.

So, Christmas is seriously less than a week away and I am totally unprepared. I know I've said that in many years past, but this time I really, really mean it. I haven't even thought about what I'm doing present-wise.

Atcually, that's a bit of an exaggeration. (Shocker!) I thought about what I'll make for presents when I was on my lunch break today while I talked to JP (holla!) on the phone and hunted for an art store.

PS: There are NO art stores in garden city. Probs cause there's just an Arby's. And this office.

So, I totally know what I'm making for everyone. And by everyone, I mean some of my family and a few friends who have already gotten me something. I would prefer to take everyone out to the bar and then buy a round of shots, but not everyone drinks. I mean, why wouldn't you? But whatevs. Moving on...or rather, back.

I plan on getting maybe ONE present done before Christmas cause that's how I roll. I wait until the last second and then take on way more than I can handle, thus leaving me empty-handed when said holiday/birthday/anniversary rolls around.

Basically, I am a total loser when it comes to presents. And ya wanna know why? Because I have mastered the art (and I don't use either of those terms lightly) of doing nothing while still both appearing and feeling incredibly busy. I have no idea how I got so good at it because my parents are the exact opposite. My mother had her PDA implanted into her skull and my father is prone to taking on elaborate tasks like his garden, any meal, decorating for Halloween and baking cookies. They both find ways to finish everything in a resonable amount of time and always, always, always, at the very least, complete their tasks.

Me? I will say something like, "I'll see you in an hour, I'm just gonna take a quick shower." That statement is always met with eye rolling and replies like, "Yeah, okay. I guess I'll see you later tonight? Tomorrow? Maybe? Probably not."

And the thing is, I have no idea why I suck so bad at getting my shit together. I really don't. And I have a sneaky suspision that working on this blog is not helping. Anyway, moving on...

I would now like to write and open letter to 2008, the year of the tiger. Maybe. I'm not sure. I just made that up. I don't do the whole zodiac thing.

Dear 2008,

Hello. Hi. Please don't suck like last year.

Now, I'm not saying that the year was on par with the shit sandwich that Bette endured in season 2, but it was not the greatest.




I started last year still a little cloudy from being worried all the time about my mom. And then I was a chicken shit. And then Eric left and my aunt died. But I got a tattoo that day, so it was interesting, the day of her funeral. That day I gave a reading that I wanted to back out of, but didnt and then cried and cried and cried.




Eric left and i cried some more. I tied up the ends of a ridiculous little non-affair, Jessy moved in. I began loathing the cat more than mustard and FOX News. Frank's whole world fell apart and I tried to be there, but it wasn't always easy. I did it and i'd do it again, but I was oh so very tired.




And so I drank and drank and drank and had classes that I sometimes went to and production meetings that I always attended with at least a near crippling hangover. I watched the L word at the bar and never finished an episode sober. I started smoking a lot more and therefore reading more David Sedaris on the stoop shivering in the cold, more coughing, more drinking.







I went out a lot. Painted a lot. Picked up the guitar. Frank got better. I missed Eric. Jessy and I grew a lot closer. Made a lot of new friends out in bars and clubs. Met a lot of girls. She whispered in my ear and we both embarassed ourselves and I just kept on pretending. There was a ball. Eric came and so did Jarvis.







Winter faded into spring and not much changed. Went to Menjo's more than once, which is way more times than anyone should ever go. Met some more girls. Drank. Smoked. Was late to everything a lot more than usual. Still worried. Still felt heartbroken and foolish. Made some more new friends.







The spring quickly turned to summer and the show was over; no more hungover production meetings, no more Kurtz (thank god), no more Aku (not so great). The summer was fantastic. I kept up with what I was doing. You know the story already: girls, cloves, jack & coke (with a lime), and so on and so forth.




Made a new friend that I quickly severed ties with because it cost me another friend. Still felt the same. Still did the same things. The faces changed, but, really, everything stayed the same.







And then as summer drew to a close I set into motion a series of events that still makes my head spin sometimes. The people and places and things that transpired are much to fresh and private. Suffice as to say, 2007, you sucked a little bit.

I mean, PRIDE was fun and I did enjoy the endless partying, but you also sent me some shit sandwiches.

So, 2008...

Please try and not suck so bad. I would really appreciate it.

all this time is ash and sand that's running through my hands...

“Adair died.”

The text message stopped me dead in my tracks. I went in the other room and stopped the record player. I picked up the phone and I dialed Frank, “are you sure?”

“Yeah.”




And it just makes me think, you know? Of a thousand things, and all of them feel the same, the way these things do when you’re in shock and you lose touch with reality for a second. I feel light, like a swelling balloon, like I might float away.

Sex, drugs and rock and roll, baby, they will fucking kill you one way or another. Drugs have effected me over the years in one way or another. Some of my friends, friends of friends, family, it’s taken all kinds.

My cousin Jonathan overdosed when I was in middle school. He was 23, I think. It’s strange to think about it now. 23 seemed so far away then and I will be 23 in less than a year. I won’t be a model for Calvin Klein, crank out a kid or travel the world on someone else’s dime, not like him. He had done so much by the time he left us.

I felt an extraordinary sadness when Jonathan died. It was new to me then, losing someone, anyone really. And drugs, they were so foreign to me.

They found Jonathan two weeks after he’d overdosed, accidentally, they said. And that was comforting, I suppose. An accident. They had an open casket and he looked nothing like the boy I knew. His face and neck looked like they were melting. It made me sick to my stomach.

They played “Amazing Grace” on the bagpipes as we stood outside with the wind blowing my hair and my father blowing his nose for the hundredth time that day. The music was so beautiful and heartbreaking. Jonathan’s girlfriend held their young son Jakob in her arms. I studied the little boy, knowing he would never know his father, except for the photographs he left behind. So many photographs…

We made a lap around the casket before we left my uncle and my cousins to bury him alone. Jonathan’s girlfriend made the reluctant lap, holding Jakob in her arms. He ran his tiny hand over the casket and everyone who saw him broke all over again.



(Jakob now)

Drugs are fucking scary as hell. I have always been terrified of anything harder than pot.

This past summer I couldn’t help but notice the comeback that cocaine is making in the clubs and bars around Detroit. I don’t know if it’s the same everywhere, but I feel like it’s the 80’s all over again.

I’m not sure if that’s what Adair overdosed on or not. Frank and I can only make guesses at this point.

Only weeks ago I felt my stomach sink into my feet. It’s impossible for me to watch people I care about make dangerous choices without feeling terrified. It shook me to my core, hearing them tell me how excited they were to try cocaine for the first time, knowing that there was nothing I could do to make it stop. No matter how I begged and pleaded, I knew it wouldn’t make a goddamn difference. I hung my head and tried to swallow the fear. My sadness was instantaneous and profound. When you truly love your friends, it hurts to watch them hurt themselves, to watch them play with fire, to ingest substances into their bodies with abandon, knowing that it could hold such devastating consequences.

Adair is gone. Like my other friend, he had just started sampling the harder stuff. He always lived his life the hard way. He smoked like a chimney and drank like a fish and yet his eyes were telling of the old soul that lay at the heart of his reckless 19 year-old body. He always seemed indestructible to me, one of the few people I felt had a fighting chance under absolutely any circumstance. A part of me always knew he would go young, and I think he did too. Frank has always said he would die young but I have always felt that he would live on, longer than he’d probably care to, and that Adair would be the one to burn out quickly, suddenly, like this. But still, it feels wrong. I think it’s gonna take a lot for the shock to wear off, for the reality of his absence to sink in.




He was an enormous talent. I loved his music, loved that he shared it with me before the rest of the world. Few could say that, and I felt proud and lucky to be in his inner circle of trusted friends. The circumstances that brought him into my life were strange, and even now I wonder at how easy it was for us to write lengthy emails having never spoken on the phone, not even once.

I never knew him as well as I would’ve liked to. But it’s too late for that now.

What I want more than anything else right now is to know that my friends and family will be more careful, that they might consider who they’d be leaving behind before they act so recklessly. I include myself in the mix of people who’ve made poor and terrifying decisions. I have driven when I shouldn’t have. I always made it home safe, but there were many times when I was surprised as hell that I got home in the first place.

It makes me feel foolish to think of it now. And I’m only writing it here because I don’t want anyone to feel like I’m sitting on some kind of high horse.

I mean it when I say I want my friends to be careful. I’ve changed a few things of late, tried to start living my life a little differently, a little cleaner. I quit smoking and I cut back on drinking. For me, it’s been a result of my own personal need to clear my head, to start fresh, to make sense of the course that my life has taken as of late. It’s been a tough semester for me to swallow for a few reasons I’d rather not elaborate on quite yet until I figure it out for myself.

But my point is, I’ve made some changes. I’m making smarter decisions, safer choices and I am begging you, the reader of this rambling entry, please be careful.

No matter who you are, there is someone, somewhere who loves you. I might even be one of those people. So, from someone who cares about you very, very much, I am begging you, pleading with you, I’m on my knees….please be careful. You’re beautiful and I love you and I want you around. Please make smart choices and make it home safe so I can see you soon.