A Death-Grip On Yesterday

Death is often a hard subject to talk about. Usually when someone I know passes away, I tend to avoid confronting the situation (living on the other side of the country helps). It’s a tough thing to digest, especially when you are close to said person. One moment someone is there, the next they’re gone. I grieved a bit when I lost my friend Alex, but haven’t come to grips with it yet, since I still get upset nine years later. I didn’t have time to prepare for it, and never got a chance to say goodbye.

I can remember a few years back taking a week’s vacation back home. My grandfather was still alive at the time. I can remember packing up my suitcase at my folks’ house, about to make the drive down to Philly to catch my flight back to LA. My grandfather wanted to make the drive with my dad and I; I wanted him to come to along as well because I wouldn’t see him again until Xmas. However my dad said due to Pap’s age, his sickness (cancer) and a weak bladder, he wouldn’t make for a smooth trip. Pap thought he was coming along, but I guess he wasn’t told he would be staying home. As we pulled away, I saw Pap standing on the porch, extra-large shorts and t-shirt draped over his now frail frame, waving goodbye. At that moment, I knew it was the last time I would see my grandfather.

*NOTE: I don’t believe in an afterlife; it kinda falls hand-in-hand with being an atheist. FYI: Only about 10% of atheists believe in absolutely no higher power. I think everything in the universe is connected. Knowing the time I have on this planet is limited helps me make sure I live this life to the fullest, and live with no regrets.

When the call came the following November saying Pap passed away, it came as no surprise. I had hoped for one last chance to see him over the holidays, but I knew it was a huge hope. Although I never took the time to pour out over his passing, I made sure to prepare myself for Pap’s trip to Valhalla. I never did get to say a proper goodbye, but when the time came, I was ready. I got up that morning and drove to MTV, took a half-day, and met Johnny at James’ Beach later to talk about all the good times we shared during my childhood.

I could see the future for my grandfather. But what if I was on the other side? What if you knew the end was coming, what would you do to face your own destiny? Or even crazier, what if you could control your own destiny?

Pap knew his time was short the summer before he passed. He and my Mom went to clean out his old house in Shenandoah, PA. When my grandparents got sick (Pap had cancer, and Gram has Alzheimer’s), they moved out of their house and moved in with their daughter and son-in-law, inheriting my old bedroom. Going through the attic, Pap found a stack of winter gloves he had been hoarding. He looked at my mom and said, “Over the years I’ve been saving these gloves just in case. Now look, I’ll never get a chance to wear them.” In a sense of foreshadowing, he prophesized his own demise. It was if he knew he wouldn’t make it to winter and have the chance to wear the gloves he’d been saving. Much like I knew when I pulled out of our old driveway, I would never see or speak to him again.

In a similar vein, my mom told me a story the other day about an afternoon she spent with my Great-Aunt Nancy. Aunt Nancy is getting on in years, and is very ill and can’t driver herself anymore; my mom usually has to play chauffer. My Uncle Frank, Nancy’s husband, passed away a few years back. On this particular afternoon, it was a bit warmer than usual, so they went and visited my Uncle’s grave. My mom overheard Aunt Nancy say something, which struck me. She said, “Frank, I think I’ll be coming to see you soon.” It was an incredible notion, assuming she might be joining her husband soon in heaven.

Besides knowing you’re time is approaching, is it possible to control your own death? (Naturally speaking of course. Suicide is another issue.) My swim coach growing up used to tell us a tale about our fellow teammate, and Olympic gold medalist, Anita Nall. We used to do meditation and visualization exercises before big races. He regaled us with a tale of Anita before a National meet, where she had a sore leg muscle, and through the power of meditation, she successfully willed the pain right out of her leg. Along the same lines, there were even times when I felt sick and continuously repeated to myself, “You won’t puke you won’t puke you won’t puke,” and never got sick. My coach taught me the mind is a very powerful tool. I think it’s possible to use this mental agility to not only heal thyself, but aid in your trip to the next adventure.

My friend Pascual lost his grandparents two weeks apart of each other. I believe his grandmother passed first, followed by his grandfather. At the time of the first passing, Pascual’s grandfather was completely healthy. When he entered the hospital, it was completely out of the blue, because he showed no signs of an approaching health complication of any kind. I remember talking to Pascual about it, and he diagnosed his grandpa death as the result of a broken heart. He lost the love if his life, and possibly willed himself to the next horizon. Is it possible he didn’t want to go on, knowing he had done everything he wanted to with his life, and with his partner gone, he spoke to the universe, and the universe took him away?

I like to believe everything in this world can be explained logically or scientifically, even if the cause and effect haven’t been discovered yet. Death can be as random as the lottery, but there are strong connections in this universe; powers we possess which we are all not aware of. When the reaper approaches, he gives us fair warning. Whether it’s the person moving on, or the family and friends being left behind. It’s up to us to see the signs and listen to the stories, and make sure we take the time to listen and cherish the few experiences we have left.

Here's to lowering caskets of old friends… Choice and consequence… We'll birth a new day with the death of an old…

A Letter To Anyone Who Cares, Written While I Listen To Alexisonfire

[Fuck they are a great band.]

Dear Poor Decision Maker,

After being there through all the heartache, and witnessing all the bullshit you went through, why would you insert yourself back in that situation? It doesn’t make sense to me. The only thing worse is he could’ve had your parents killed. I don’t know if it’s a permanent thing or not, but still. I’m not judging your feelings, or any decisions you choose to make regarding your future. I’m not innocent enough to judge. God forbid I, of all people, tell someone not to follow their heart. I consider myself to be a forgiving soul, but you have a heart the side of Asia to jump that hurdle.

What really upsets me is how you introduced him into an environment you were invited into by someone who saved you at your time of dying. We were all there, and I know we all feel betrayed. To be upset with the person who took you in because the guest you brought is not welcome there is unforgiveable. You have no right. You know how much hate we all have for that boy because of what he did.

I’ve seen a change in you this past year; one I don’t fault you for. I believe it all stemmed from being tossed into a hurricane of emotion and not really knowing where you were going to end up once the clouds cleared. I can sympathize with that scenario. When someone is put to the test like that, the best outcome is to grow and learn and become better, faster, stronger than your previous self. Sadly, I feel you make have gone slightly in the other direction, and knowing he is most likely the cause of it, brings up new resentment knowing he has reentered your life.

Like I stated earlier, I am a firm believer in forgiveness when it is deserved. However, so little time has passed since the infraction, he hasn’t time himself to grow and learn from his major mistakes. He is no greater than I am, and the demons he possesses aren’t easily scared away, and it took me two separate years of growth to be the great member of the social society I am today.

All I can say for now is good luck. I’m not sure if I can be there standing and watching as this goes down. I hope the change you seek has come to be.

Signed with Much Love,

Ursus Rex

I stay in time and watch you pass by… I draw this line and hope you’ll take my side… You shouldn’t have to fight alone… It’s nobody’s battle but your own…

Fully Collapsed

There are times you and your friends sit, reminiscing about the good old days and all the fun you had. There was the first trip to Tahoe, the limo ride from Tiki Bob’s to West Chester, and the time you busted in on your friend having sex. But then there are moments and experiences, which rip you from your current reality, totally placing your brain right back there, allowing you to relive the amazing moment again. One week ago I experienced one of these space-time continuum-bending moments.

I went to a concert. But not just any concert: it was the ten-year anniversary of the release of an album, which completely sent my life askew. Thursday’s FULL COLLAPSE. And the boys from New Brunswick played each delicious track from start to finish.

[Not to short change either of the other two acts I witnessed that night; Animals As Leaders is like listening to an epic movie soundtrack. You want to storm the castle and take on the whole Uruk-hai nation (look it up) while being bombarded by dueling eight-string guitars and a punishing drum section. Something so simple making the earth shake with the power of a thousand Orc armies. And Underoath constantly uping the ante with each year they are in existence, tearing through the rooms ear drums leaving each concert with a little less aural power. They are slowly perfecting their brand of metal, being led by the strongly poetic lyrics of Spencer Chamberlain, who is slowly becoming my favorite front man.]

The drums beats of “Understanding In A Car Crash” were the first thing to catch my ear. I remember stumbling through the dorm room on the second floor of St. George Hall. MTV2 was playing in the background as I packed my bag, preparing for my day of classes after an especially brutal morning workout. I almost tripped over the hand-me-down couch acting as the centerpiece of the living space I shared with my best friend Todd.

I heard the “snap-snap” of Tucker Rule’s snare drum, followed by musical chaos, reminiscent of At The Drive-In’s “Relationship Of Command” for which I discovered earlier that year. I had to stop and listen and watch the video; I needed to figure out what the name of the band performing on Todd’s television. I remember sitting there so intently, mesmerized by the live video. I couldn’t miss the info that would inevitably pop up on the bottom left of the screen, and inevitably change my personal musical landscape forever. I also recall this was the first time I really related to a band, on a personal level. The guys in Thursday weren’t gods who were out of reach to the common man, but rather average people my own age, playing music I love. I was listening to peers.

Until last night, looking back at the last ten years and at how much of this world I traversed (both physically and metaphorically), I never realized how much an affect this album had on me. To remember where I was when I first heard it and see where I am now. Growing and evolving along side the band and the music they have produced over the last decade.

Full Collapse dropped at a time in my college career when I was trying to figure out who I was, what I believed in, and Thursday steered me in the right direction, introducing me to a world void of major labels and the shit music and fashion sense being shoved down our throats. Each time I entered a new stage in my life, Thursday seemed to release a new album of post-hardcore goodness. Over the last ten years, I have changed both internally and externally. Still, through each major era in my existence, there was always one constant: Thursday and Full Collapse.

And I always go back…

Full Collapse

Released: April 10, 2001 on Victory Records

Track Listing:

1. A0001

2. Understanding In A Car Crash

3. Concealer

4. Autobiography Of A Nation

5. A Hole In The World

6. Cross Out The Eyes

7. Paris In Flames

8. I Am The Killer

9. Standing On The Edge Of Summer

10. Wind Up

11. How Long Is The Night?

12. i1100

It's the sound of your racing heart… That beats in time with every start… That reaches up and across the sky… It makes you want to rise…

These Go To Eleven

I can easily say 2010 was the most interesting year of my life. It was definitely a year of polar extremes. I found out where my rock bottom was, but at the same time, it was the happiest year of my life. It was a year of change: two of my basic ideas I had about the direction I wanted to take my life flipped (a relation to my happiness). There were things and experiences in my life I never planned on happening, and now I want these things more than anything. It was a year where I saw my relationships alter. I made a lot of new friends, a few of which I am now very close with; I had a few friendships tested, seeing just how strong the ties we built were, and we either became closer or we slipped; and sadly I lost a few friends, either by choice, deception, or the natural fade into the oblivion.

After looking back at what I hoped to accomplish in 2010, I feel I did a pretty good job.

1) Run a marathon.

I have spoke at length about this in two prior posts, which you can check out here and here. I still can’t believe I ran one, and as I write this (and hopefully you read this) I am nine weeks out from marathon number two. I ran a few other races in there, a half-marathon, a few 10k’s, and a 5K or two. I am happy to say I am in the best shape I’ve been in since college.

2) Break my routine and try new things.

Check number two. Thanks in part to someone very important, I was taken out of my comfort zone several times. The biggest way I did this was by moving out of The Hotel. I got my own one-bedroom apartment, still in Venice. I was really scared to move out; I have never lived anywhere else since I’ve moved to Los Angeles, but I knew it was time. My biggest fear lies with the fact I have never lived alone. I have always had roommates, had someone to bullshit with when I came home from work. I wasn’t sure I could handle the silence. Strangely, after about two days in my new place, it felt like home. I still have moments where I get a bit of cabin fever and reach out to anyone I can find to talk to, but for the most part, I’m enjoying my own space.

3) Stop taking the beach for granted.

Well, this one could go either way. I only made it out in the water a few more times than last year, but I definitely made sure to utilize more than the ocean. I ran along the beach as much as humanly possible. I went and walked the boardwalk and said hello to friends at the skatepark and friends working at the bars and enjoyed what little nice weather we had. And I drank up and took photos of as many beautiful sunsets as I could.

4) Learn a musical instrument.

This is one I added by accident last year. I had an acquaintance teach me the basics about reading tab and I’ve been slowly teaching myself to play bass guitar. I had to take a few weeks off when I got hit by a car while riding my bike. I’m by no means a musician, but I can play a few songs start to finish, and it’s a cool way to kill some time.


2011

This past year I was definitely pushed to the extreme, both mentally and physically. I only hope what I learned this past year about my self, and the world around me, will help me grow in this coming year.


1) Make it back home more.

Sadly, with the price of flights and the airlines doing everything possible to make it awful to travel, this isn’t something I can start doing on a monthly basis. However, it would be nice to make it back more than just at Xmas. I’d like to make it back in the spring, maybe for my sister’s birthday or for the Dad Vail Regatta. It would nice to be in Philadelphia when the weather is nice out. There is also a “Row For The Cure” in October, which a few of my college teammate participate in. I do “Race For The Cure” every fall, and it might be cool to raise money for breast cancer in a different way for a change.

2) Cook more meals.

I got in the habit of eating healthy over the last few years, but sometimes that consisted of cooking simple meals. Last year I started off cooking a few nights a week very healthy meals for Lindsey and myself, and I loved it. Towards the end of the year, I slacked off in the good meal department. I already started cooking good meals, with veggies and proteins, and damn I missed cooking. I love cooking, and I like to think I am damn good at it.

3) Stick with the not drinking.

Part of what I think is keeping me as healthy as I am, is my lack of alcohol intake. I slipped a few times and I paid for it. My addictive personality kicked in and boy howdy, was it bad. I did a few stupid things again, and I don’t want to do that ever. I like who I am without booze, and I know I am a better man without it. Being the designated driver is a pretty good time; another way I can make sure I put my friends first. Also, I really don’t miss having hangovers.

4) Stay positive.

I got down on myself a lot this past year, and those of you closest to me know why. I’m at heart a very positive person, and as much as I tried to keep my personal shit from affecting those around me, somehow I don’t seem to very good at it. I need to take whatever is negative in my head and transform it into a fire up my ass.

5) Super secret resolution.

One last thing I want to do this year is something I need to tackle on my own. It’s not like an inner demon, nothing of that sort. I’ve taken a great deal of myself and put it into something this past year, something I believe greatly in. I need to figure out how to deal with it, whatever that means.

Watch it all change and watch it go away… Watch it all never be the same again… Watch it all, all be nothing like we thought before…

If You Need Bail Money, Give Me A Call

In the last few weeks, I began posting on Facebook something called a “Random Start”. It’s an idea I stole from Riley Breckinridge’s blog Hermitology. Basically, my reason behind beginning this mostly-daily ritual was three-fold: to hopefully reintroduce myself to some of the music on my iPod I may have become estranged from, to maybe reintroduce some of my friends and followers to a band they have forgotten about, and finally (and maybe the most important reason) was to get myself writing again. I’ve slacked a bit in the creative writing department this year. (Honestly, I think somewhere along the line I lost my muse.) I noticed how RB writes a little bit each day about his “Random Start,” and thought it was a good way to get my creative juices flowing, even if it’s merely a quick little thought.

Since I began, twice (haha Thrice) Pearl Jam started my day. When “Faithful”, the second Seattle wake up call happened, it brought me back to my first Pearl Jam concert experience.

It was the summer of 2005 and I had recently begun working on Hack, my first paying job. The show took place at Hershey Stadium, and my good friend Suzanne was my partner in crime.

I have a strict concert policy I like to follow: No alcohol in my body. I don’t like to drink at shows. I get enough of a rush feeding off the energy of the live show and I want to remember every inch of what happens on stage. When I attended punk and hardcore shows, I didn’t want anything to impede my coordination as I crashed around in the pit. Suzanne begged and pleaded for me to go and buy some booze. After an intense verbal struggle, against my better judgment, I gave in and we went and bought 40s. See, Sue was a month shy of her twenty-first birthday, so I was the one of responsible drinking age who could legally make the purchase.

Hershey used to allow the occasional tailgating. I, trying to keep things as low key as possible, made sure were came prepared to the parking lot. We had opaque Y100 plastic cups and kept our bottles in a small cooler under a blanket on the floor of the backseat of my car.

We had a great time hanging out in the field turned parking lot across the street from the stadium. While we were drinking our first 40, we noticed a group of high school kids across the lane having a grand old time with a beer pong. At one point, two of the boys ventured out among the cars, presumably to track down other friends. Upon their return, Sue yelled to them, asking if they were two of the guys with the bong. They confirmed her suspicion and invited her to join. She declined, but not before a bicycle cop rolled up on the situation. Now is where the fun begins.

The cop makes the four of us line up and present our IDs. I, being legal, handed my driver’s license over no problem. They came Sue’s turn. I looked over and she was almost in tears. Damnit, I forgot: a month shy of turning twenty-one. The two other guys admitted to being underage right off the bat. Now, to the competent observer, you could easily draw the conclusion those two guys were not with us. They were yelling at us from several cars away. But no, this cop [read: pig] completely ignored the facts and began to ask me, rather condescendingly, why I would buy beer for my extremely young friends. My reply was simply the truth: “I don’t know those guys at all and I didn’t buy them anything.”

Officer Shitdick, “Bullshit, Don’t lie to me. I’m a cop. You know them.”

Oh, so we’re gonna play that game. I explained to the officer several times I didn’t know them, never met them, and in fact, still don’t know them. Literally seconds before he rolled up on his high horse, I didn’t even know they existed. Hell, I never even spoke to them. He didn’t buy it. Sue tried to explain it to him. The two high school kids explained it to him. Nope, still didn’t believe us. Finally, a second, female, officer rolled up on the scene and butted in. Lucky for me, she was a very nice woman who listened to my side of the story, and believed me. I think she assumed Sue and I were dating and wouldn’t be hanging out with younger kids anyway.

Seeing he was temporarily defeated, the first cop pulled me aside and began in on me again.

“Now obviously you and this chick here are here together, and since she is under age, you bought the booze for her.’ I agreed with his statement. I figured he saw our licenses and would give Sue and me a free pass since she was so close to being legal. Nope, wrong again Mallick. I always forget how much the law enforcement in Pennsylvania loves me. He started to threaten me with a thousand dollar fine and the possibility of three months in jail.

Oh, look, it’s my turn to roll the dice.

During his threatening speech, my cell phone rang. It was Josh Richards. I proceeded to cut him off and told him I needed to take this call. He stood there in complete shock, mouth agape, just cutting him off. Josh had called me, forgetting I was home for the weekend and not around to hang out in Philly for the night. I explained to him the situation which was unfolding. He laughed, and said to me, “Well buddy, if you need bail money, give me a call.” What a great friend. Love that man.

I went back to the cop, who had reteamed up with his female counterpart, and he was explaining to Sue the consequences of her actions. The male cop asked me who called. I told him it was my boss. “I hope you don’t get fired for getting arrested.”

“Nah, actually he thought it was pretty funny. I worked in television man. I could get busted with a pound of coke, and no one would give a shit.” I was so over this guy trying to belittle me with his inflated head. I then proceeded to have a lengthy discussion with the female cop about my job, getting all chummy. As it turned out, Hack was one of her favorite shows. She ended up giving me what was left of the high schooler’s beer; like a case and a half of Bass (who bongs Bass Ale?! amateurs) and their bong. All while the male stood there, fuming.

I walked away pretty unscathed from the whole situation. I got fined a hundred and fifty bucks and was charged with, and I quote, “Creating a situation that served no legitimate purpose.” That’s actually something pretty funny to have on my record. Sue got the worst of it: a couple hundred-dollar fine and a loss of her driver’s license for six months.

The moral of the story: most cops are dicks, but there are those few, wonderful little loopholes, which let you go with a slap on the wrist. Also, it gave me another really entertaining story to tell people.

Belief in the game, controls that keep us in a box of fear… We never listen…

Failure Leaves Such A Bitter Taste In My Mouth*

“What would school have been like if you never had to worry about getting an F? Students at West Potomac High School in Alexandria, Va., are about to find out…”

A few days ago, I came across this article by Mira Jacob on Yahoo and it really got under my skin. To give you a summary of what is taking place in Virginia, school officials have done away with the standard failing mark, the “F”, and replaced with the letter “I” for incomplete. The argument the article is trying to address is if this is “…an inspired move to get those marginal students on track and learning, or just another way in which we’re coddling underachieving kids and hobbling the rest [.]”

I think we’re coddling the little fuckers. Failure should be an option.

Back in the day when I swam for the once glorious Mountain View Crawdads (my summer league team) there was a rule in the league stating if you team lost every meet, they were to move down a division. On the contrary, if you won every meet, your team advanced to a higher echelon. There has to be consequences on both sides of the spectrum to give incentive and make kids work towards goals.

There should be a threat of failure; no child likes to be left back. My junior year of high school, I almost failed my Honors history class; history was not my strongest subject by far. By the end of my first quarter, my teach informed me I should drop the honors class and take the standard Academic level course. I didn’t want to leave the entertaining and more advanced learning of the Honors level course, but at the same time, failing would have been a huge blemish on my academic career. This fear forced me to sit down and read my notes over every night; I rewrote every page of my notes until I remembered every word that was taught to me that day. I sat down with my folks and had them quiz me every night. It was probably the hardest I ever worked for any type of class in my life, high school or college. And by the time mid-terms came around, I was back on track, scoring “A’s” in the class.

By telling student if they fail, there is a chance to fix it, you’re teaching them a skewed life lesson. If I didn’t have the fear from my teacher, I might never have worked as hard as I did. I believe the notion of failure in a child’s development shows them life isn’t fair, that you have to work hard if you want to get ahead in this world. If students believe they don’t have to be their best to move on to the next grade, and there’s is always time to fix things, there will be no sense of urgency to better them selves.

If a student is really have trouble keeping up, the school should have different education levels. At Bishop McDevitt, where I did my time, there were three different tracks: Honors for the more advanced students, Academic for the average kids, and Basic for those who might have a little trouble grasping the material. I’m not saying one level is better than another. Everyone learns differently. This system gives students who absorb knowledge differently, options.

There is a flip side to my argument however, because of course, the world isn’t black and white. The problem is the threat almost gives you the feeling that if you mess up, your whole life is over. Parents and teachers like to stress that every decision and choice you make early in school has a rippling effect on your success in life and your career. This is obviously not the case.

I was asked at age fourteen, in my freshman Algebra class, what I wanted to do with my life. I needed to know, so I could plan the rest of my math and science courses correctly to be advanced enough before going away to college. I said I was interested in computers, so I had to make sure I took multiple math classes sophomore year, then I could take this other math class junior year, to make sure I was in Calculus and some other intense math class by my senior year. I hated math; I didn’t want to do that much math. So I said to my Algebra teacher, and I quote, “That’s a lot of math. Eh, screw it, I’ll work in television.” (Luckily, my teacher was a sexist drunk who had more heart attacks than letters in his name, so I didn’t get in trouble for saying screw it.)

You’ll never hear me say this again, but I think a little bit of fear does kids a favor. Learning from one’s mistakes and failure is priceless. The value of learning from losing is one lesson everyone should learn.

Be still and know that they won't lie to you every single time you're facing lies…

[*Easily one of my favorite song lyrics of all time.]

Within A Mile Of Home

The staff of The Hotel arrived in Venice five and a half years ago, during the summer of 2005. When it came time for Thanksgiving, the three of us decided it would be better to stay in Los Angeles for the holiday. We invited old friends and new friends and hosted our very first Hotel Homeless Thanksgiving – a celebration for all those who either couldn’t go home to family or decided against to sit down and eat a very large meal.

As a joke, I put together a call sheet listing the day’s schedule and what everyone was bringing, in case any of our attendees didn’t know what was happening that day. It worked out pretty well and the meal and the event was a complete success. Johnny and I basted the turkey a little too much, and the pan overflowed and caused the gas stove to smoke up something fierce. We couldn’t even see a foot in front of our faces the smoke was so thick. This began the tradition of Johnny, Roger, and I hosting Thanksgiving every year since (the call sheet has since gone the way of the dodo). Every year we have had different dishes, different attendees, and different after meal activities, but there was always one constant: one giant as turkey. Johnny hunts down the biggest turkey possible, with no regard to how many people were actually going to partake.

Traditions begin and end every year. Grandparents pass away, children move, relationships change – there are many reasons why traditions are born and die. For us, it was to save money since we had only recently moved into the new apartment. Tradition is a funny thing, especially when you watch one change. Every year on Xmas eve, my family eats the same seven-course meal. It’s steeped in Polish religious tradition. Sadly, once my grandmother moves on, the meal might not be cooked again, being replaced with different foods, with the single remaining bond being that we all sit down together as an extended family and enjoy each other’s company and gorge ourselves until we pass out watching ELF.

This was the last Thanksgiving with all three original members still living under the same roof. However, the tradition we all share, gorging ourselves to the point of paralysis, will most definitely continue on. Nothing can replace the fun we have waking up early to lather up a thirty pound bird with fake butter, sitting around watching football all day, baking dairy-free pumpkin pie, and making dirty jokes involving a thawed out turkey neck. The tradition may alter itself in someway, maybe the location, or one of us will have a family, but the central core ritual will always remain.

May your day be filled with a full stomach, the love of family, and company of friends.

Happy Thanksgiving everybody.

But take my advice; you'll have to bury me twice ‘cause the first time I won't rest easily… But don't let die still wondering what it was I left behind…