what’s my name, bitch?

   I was playing in wreckless fate at the time. It was a small turn out show, not many people in the building but then again we were not that good. One person I remember being there is part of a local family. Him and his family were known to be dangerous. There are three or four of them I have met, this is just about one of them though. His face looked like a drunken potato at best, and fifty seventh in most handsome white trash competition at medium, not even sure what at best. The reason I know he was there is because he was drunk as shit to the extent he would shout “(first name) mother fuck’n (last name), all the mother fucking time.” I know that is not the most compelling to read, but I warned you I am no fucking snitch. This is not meant to be an inside story, but I guess it is one. I think we can all understand though, it was like a drunken uncle you barely knew showing up somewhere he was not invited to drunk not to use racial slurs when he showed up. He yelled this only when we were playing. We couldn’t keep it together. I know I tried my ass off but had to take a break to laugh. I think our singer even gave him a mic for a full song. It may have not been a show but an open mic music night, it has been too long to remember which, and as you can tell one drunk was the highlight of the night.

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buliding a bridge out of c4

   Say what you will, but the best music can not be made without suffering, drug use, or a mix of both. Great music can be made by what people consider shit humans. Luckily there was only one musician I knew that was one, that story is for another time. I am to happy to make myself that fucking mad right now, plus I am a little stoned so I forget if I wrote it already. You want honesty in writing you are getting it motherfuckers. 

 

   It was creation through self destruction. Pills, booze, cocaine, mushrooms, poppy tea, every form of weed that was out at the time made my a person someone they knew could trust. I stuck with drinking and cigarettes as I mentioned before. If you want to think I am lying that is fine I am not expecting people to believe everything that I write in this anyway.

 

   Killing time, killing ourselves, trying to laugh away the bullshit while we could and how we could. Music was an outlet and a reason. It got us together, as we listened to bastard hymns of worse times and possibly better people. You were not getting christian contemporary that is for fucking sure.

 

Some people would go in the back and do coke before or after their sets, it would not effect their playing since it was nothing new or exciting. Mad men making madder music for heathens, working class, drunks, druggies, degenerates, and other hell bound souls. The craziness kept us sane. The booze kept us war. The bonds kept us sane.

come one, come all

One of the first shows in the back room, the p.a system was not working. Labor force came all the way from Cleveland to play. They fixed what was wrong with the p.a since they had more experience with it than I did. The show the night before was insane and bodies flew everywhere,sometimes things stop working when that happens. Other bands came from just as far including one from Chicago. The show was awesome, small but fun. There is a guy that showed up with at least one other person. One of the regulars thought the person was gay and that was the night he decided to start getting aggressive. He made his thoughts and intentions clear, I had to go in to bouncer mode. No fight was had even though I wanted to knock his teeth in. I tried to resolve it the best I could and escorted the accused out when he left with his friend to make sure safety was guaranteed. A night of no bullshit ended when the show did. No one else cared or at least let it be known they did verbally that there was someone that might be gay around.

 

That night I realized two things. A stupid piece of shit showed his true colors finally. The other was that no matter how labor force is on CD they are better live and better guys.

 

There will be two other stories at least that have the homophobic prick. A few more with labor force as well.

trainwreck the musical

There is a guy I knew and was in a band with when he was still straight edge, after that he wanted to be Hunter S Thompson so badly that he could not hide it in a pitch black room. It seemed like he went from nothing to hallucinogens . He could never play guitar well but embraced it more than ever. I am not sure how he started playing at the clubhouse but I know I never signed off on it. He went under the name deathcat. To say the music was horrible is an understatement or a flat out lie like heroin has the same effects as speed.Somehow he got a band to play with him. I do not know how, I am guessing drugs.They say those kinds of things can increase creativity but they do not increase talent that is for rucking sure. I am not trying to make this a German porn and just shit on the guy publicly. Imagine jazz with the soul taken out played by a scrawny young white guy that has not truly lived and you start to understand. I talked to Mike one night, he said the kid is night but holy shit was the music awful. I have brought up shitheads before but he was not one really at least when he played around us. Proof that the worse the music is the nicer you have to be.

Run motherfucker, run!

We were on the hunt. A lot of the people I mentioned so far were around. Word was a man overstepped his boundaries with the petafylers bassists girlfriend. We were not positive who and were trying to figure it out. Our anger was up and all we knew for sure is it was not one of ours. There was blood in the water and the sharks were fucking starving. I talked to one guy that I thought was it, was about to let loose when I was told it was not him, the gutless peice of shit already left, he realized he was not safe and all of us knew different places that were good to hide a body. It may have seemed like a room of drunks, that just means more pain, might have to hit you twice as much to get the point across but that means twice the damage. It did not come to that lucky for him and possibly luckily for us because who knows what would have happened and at what point we would have stopped.

We had a scumbag code of ethics. Don’t over step to any women, don’t fight for no reason, and make sure that when a job needed to be done that the target was the right one.

polishing a burn victom

Not every night was golden. There were problems on a regular basis, the door money being skimmed, regulars that came in for trouble only, no cops besides twice for noise reasons at least when I was there all the time. I knew and know why cops do not show up.

There were a lot of nights I was not sure things could keep going. Between drinking like my liver was sentenced to death, a few people that could never be gangster but wanted to be, people skimming from the door, driving nights I clearly shouldn’t. We were reckless, some of us didn’t make it. The amount of booze, the cocaine (done by others), the over stepping by idiots not the band but crazy motherfuckers not thinking. That is normal in a lot of places though.

The rose colored glasses are off for this one. I forget if I already covered uncle Donnie committing suicide, the time where the police were somewhat welcomed due to someone trying to go wild with a broken bottle (I wasn’t there for that one), the hostage situation or standoff depending on how you look at it, the guy hiding in the couch for three days I do not remember why. I was there for the more peaceful time and all that happened during my time there.

It was safe due to basically a gang of us keeping an eye. The place brought the best and worst of many of us. The supposed hand stabbing (I wasn’t there for that and if I was you wouldn’t get the names out of me). At times I miss the clubhouse , at others I don’t knowing I shouldn’t because I found the place when I was early 20s and am 34 now. No way I would survive going at that pace so long. I got lucky where others have not in the alcohol fueld life.

I know it isn’t the same now, nowhere is though. It is about the people not the place unless you a farmer possibly.

I have heard when cops are called four cop cars would show up because they knew it was going to be a dangerous situation. There is beauty in that to me. I like where police are not welcome. With that can come trouble. I was not there when the cops were called that was before my time.

I know one person was drugged, I was not there when it happened but still know it to be true. Luckily it did not go further than that. You can never keep all the bad away, and sometimes the guilty have quicker feet than the time you have to prove it.

One glove

Early on I mentioned someone that was or is part of a gospel family. I have seen him with his band pi, if you get a chance do not pass it up. He plays bass with one glove on kind of like Michael Jackson if he had more musical talent instead of just singing. I expected some stuff that was maybe a little raunchy but he is more tongue and cheek and plays bass more smoothly than anyone else I have seen. It just comes across completely natural. I could say a lot about him as a man but that is for people that know him which if you are reading this I am guessing you don’t even if you do.

 

He was around a lot and asked me to play bass for pi at one point. It never happened and I am glad it didn’t I do not have that level of skill. It was an honor to be asked none the less. I am guessing he was drunker than he seemed. The church is good at covering up how drunk or fucked up someone actually is in my experience.