The Sweetest Place On Earth

When did Central Pennsylvania become a hotbed for underground music? I remember going to see a few shows in small, makeshift venues growing up (i.e. Godsmack in the City Island lawn-mower garage), but nothing like the sort of underground, independent post-hardcore shows I began attending once I moved to Philly. Hershey, Harrisburg, Lancaster; we were never at a loss for live shows to attend, but recently it seems more and more awesome bands are starting to come out of the area (and surroundings) I grew up in. I mean, we had LIVE and Fuel (meh, I know) who came from our hometowns, but nothing of the sort of music I have grown to love and adore. Please check out some of the awesome acts which have been forming the last few years.

BALANCE AND COMPOSURE - Doylestown, PA

Neighbors of one of my favorite bands, Circa Survive, Balance and Composure have been fighting to fill the hand-me-down shoes of bands like Brand New and mewithoutYou. Their most recent release, "Separation" finally solidifies this group with a voice their own, and leaves them equals with their forefathers.

TIGERS JAW - Scranton, PA

There's more to Scranton, Pennsylvania than Michael Scott and Royal's swimming fans (4-1-4 what's up!!!). While a lot of indie rock bands are striving to be weirder and more out there, Tigers Jaw are doing exactly the opposite: they're writing classic, catchy songs, reminiscent of their late '90s influences.

KOJI - Harrisburg, PA

Hailing from the 7-1-7, Andrew "Koji" Shiraki grew up screaming his lungs out fronting several post-hardcore outfits around central PA. Now, at age 24, he realized it's not how loud you scream, but what you say that holds the most water. Still retaining social justice and politics as themes in his lyrics, he's using his music to inspire both inner peace as well as build a new peace in the world around him.

KOJI - Giants Sleeping from If You Make It on Vimeo.

TEXAS IN JULY - Ephrata, PA

I recently had the pleasure of catching Texas In July killing it as the first opening act on this years Take Action! Tour in support of Silverstein and Bayside. Carrying on the metalcore torch, TIJ aren't tackling any new ground, but instead, bringing small town aesthetic to it. There are a few risky (and risque, me-yow) moments on the band's full-length debut being released on Equal Vision later this year. Still, fans of metal both old and new will certainly enjoy Texas In July for years to come.

AUGUST BURNS RED - Lancaster, PA

Most of you probably remember August Burns Red from the adorable video of Charlie playing drums to "The Eleventh Hour". What you might not realize is ABR has been tearing apart the metal scene for eight years, leaving few survivors in their wake. They are known for the ability to weave flowing melody in with incredibly brutal breakdowns and off-meter riffs.

There you go folks. Listen and enjoy.

The day is soon coming when turning your back won't be an option...

Change Is A Sound

I’ve been writing a lot about change over the last few months. The biggest reason is because over the last year I’ve been beginning to feel different. I’m starting to notice more about the world around me, feeling more grown up, but still keeping the “youth” aspect my family is known.

Change in a necessity in life; it helps people grow and become better people. If we always stayed the same, we’d run the grave risk of growing stagnant and uninteresting. I like when I notice a change in me, both positive and negative. Negative changes are obviously, not a good thing, but seeing these downward movements can often times lead to positive changes as well.

Geoff Rickly recently wrote about how the way he write lyrics has changed since he has grown up:

…I'm not a kid anymore and I don't think in the same ways that I used to. I don't push the band to go faster, use stranger time signatures or thrash harder. I write songs that turn inward now. Songs that rely on subtlety. Songs that are meant for headphones and car stereos. Songs that are experienced by one person at a time. Even when these songs are played in front of a crowd, everyone in the room will be listening to them alone.

Obviously, I’m not musician, but it’s weirdly comforting to see someone I not only look up to, but also consider one of my peers going through similar changes himself. I don’t have the musical platform he does to show off his growth and maturity and evolution. Personally, when I feel different, I like to make myself different. I get bored with who I look at in the mirror. I’m quickly approaching thirty, and I know I don’t want to hit July twenty-four with the same body I’ve had the last few years.

It’s time for a tattoo.

For me, as with most, tattoos hold personal meaning to the person who is getting their flesh altered. I like to take it one literal step forward: despite whatever the story is behind the artwork, the new addition acts as a reminder that at this moment in time, I am a different person. I am permanently changing who I am physically because internally I’m not the same Mallick who you hung out with last year. It’s an eternal timeline reflecting how many times I’ve gone through major transformations.

It’s almost an instinct when the times comes; my skin begins to itch, but it’s a bit stronger than the normal tattoo craving we are all warned about.

The world and it’s people are in a contact state of flux and you hope it’s moving in a positive direction, no matter what it make look like during the different stages of existence. Sometimes you notice these adjustments; the earth is forever altered. Sometimes its something so small it doesn’t have any noticeable effect; the person sports a newfound smile they only know the reason behind. I know when I begin to make a new impression and begin writing a new chapter in my life, I like to title page to have some nice artwork on it.

Reaching out for something, but we dunno what we need… As time slowly passes by, grey hair appears behind your eyes…

Your US Tax Dollars At Work

We still don't have an approved budget. And by "we", I mean the United States Government. How is it mid-April, and we don't have an official breakdown for government spending? I have an idea: maybe it's because we spend "our" money on frivolous things, like sending FBI agents and Secret Service men to follow a few punk bands around on tour.

Wednesday, October 27, 2004 – Bad Religion was headlining the Electric Factory, one of the greatest concert venues in Philadelphia. Supporting, on their first national tour, was Rise Against, along with the fledgling band From First To Last, who were hand picked by Bad Religion to be part of the bill. The tour was called the “Rock Against Bush Tour” and was supported by Punk Voter.Com, an organization striving to educate young voters on the issues surrounding the upcoming election, and urge them to get out and vote. Oh, and they were trying to get those two dictators out of office as well.

Much like I have been prone to do in the past, I arrived at the show early to make sure I caught each act’s set in its entirety. I expected the usual when I approached the front doors: the men and women would queue in separate lines to be patted down. I would empty my pockets of their contents to make the pat down easier. I’d present my ID to get a wristband to enter the bar area, although I rarely ever drank at shows. I’d go inside, do a lap to see if any of the regulars were in attendance before finding the best vantage point to watch the opening acts and prime myself for movement into the pit.

This night, however, followed a different chain of events. The usual concert “Security” wasn’t guarding the door to the musical palace, dawning their yellow polo shirts. Tonight, there were men in black suits waiting to assist me with my concert experience. I felt a little uneasy. I emptied my pockets as per usual, but instead of being spun a hundred and eighty degrees for the normal frisk, I was told to put all my belongings in a bowl to be scanned by a metal detector. I was then asked to stand against a wall and “spread ‘em” (how cliché). I was examined so thoroughly that if I repeated the same routine outside of this situation, I would probably be slapped with an assault charge.

After I was stamped “safe” by a gentleman wearing sunglasses at night (who the fuck does that?), I was escorted to a table where I had to show my driver’s license to another man in a black suit. At this point, I realized something was up. My first thought was during a prior show, someone, somehow got a weapon in, past security, creating an unsafe situation, which served no legitimate purpose, and the E-Factory was taking all the necessary precautions.

I showed this next sir my driver’s license, which he wrote down every detail, asked me several times if this was my real address. It wasn’t technically; I still had my parents’ address on my license. I had to give them both of my parents’ full names before revealing my current residence. They tried to get as much of my personal information out of me before telling me to “enjoy myself.” I’ve never been more confused in my life. Why does the E-Factory care what my car’s license plate number is?

The show started and I put the weird greeting behind me. That was until Bad Religion took the stage. After their opening number, Greg Graffin addressed the crowd. He welcomed everyone to the show, thanked the opening acts, and thanked the masses for being in attendance. Who he thanked next brought everything out into the open and enlightened us all to what we were all a part of this particular night. He individually pointed out, by first and last name, each of the Secret Service agents who were keeping a close eye on the multitudes. I looked around each time he introduced one, feeling Big Brother bearing down on me more and more, and for the first time noticing the only yellow polo shirted “Security” working, manned the four corners and the front of the stage. Men in black suits had us surrounded.

Greg explained then-President (and I use that term loosely) Bush was worried the “Rock Against Bush Tours” (there were a few gallivanting across our country at the time) would insight riots; teenagers and young adults pouring out into the streets with (GASP) their own thoughts on politics, creating a world filled with anarchy. We were told Cheney didn’t trust the message Bad Religion, Rise Against, and Punk Voter were preaching, and had his men take down the names and personal information of everyone in attendance at these shows. We would all be put on a list to be kept watch over. Our “fearless” leader was scared; scared the youth would, for the first time in a very long time, stand up for what is right and just.

Newspapers and statisticians all claimed the tours had no effect at all on the young voter turn out from the previous election. What was left out, however, from all of these reports was the explanation of THE FACTS. The youth vote represented seventeen percent of the total votes counted, exactly the same percentage as the 2000 election. However, the 2004 election set a record for the greatest voter turn out for an election ever. To put it simply, seventeen percent of a greater number of total voters from the 2000 election, means more younger voters made their way to voter booths in 2004. I’d say whatever “we” did was a success. (And by we, I mean those of us wearing t-shirts sporting Bush’s ugly mug with “Not My President” printed underneath.)

This government action made me realize two things this night: 1). Bush & Cheney wouldn't have sent agents of the government out on this assignment if they honestly didn't think the "youth vote" was a serious threat, and 2). For the first time the power and drive young voters have in this country wasn’t underestimated.

Leaders, politicians, and power whores are in line to receive your choice… And you bet your ass, if you give it to them, they will gladly take your voice…

My Favorite Albums Of 2010

It’s been an interesting year for music for me personally. In Riley Breckinridge’s blog Hermitology I have found a new music guru to aid in my appreciation and discovery of new music. I discovered a few new muses in 2010, which has led the reach of my musical landscape to expand. I have felt for a while my musical taste has been broad, but recently it has grown in leaps and bounds. It’s a good mirror of how I’ve changed personally during those twelve months. The spectrum of sounds I fell in love with in 2010 covers a lot of ground. There are many more “lighter” bands and albums on this year’s list, but don’t be fooled, they aren’t any less epic than the fist pumping, head banging LPs which are synonymous with my taste in music.

Circa Survive – “Blue Sky Research”

With their third release, Circa Survive has figured out how to write traditional rock songs while not losing their signature sound. It was a challenge for me to get through “Blue Sky Noise” the first time. I thought I lost another one of my favorite bands to the cult of the major label. Growth is a hard thing to deal with for sometimes. I am however, a victim of my quick judgment. In time, some of the things that I disliked about the album and the band’s “new sound” grew into an understanding of where the band wanted to go with their music, and laid out a clear path to where they plan to trek next. There's no putting a nose up to the fact that Clear Channel might have a band worthy of their bullshit airwaves. There's certainly enough passion in “Blue Sky Noise” to show the masses where rock and roll and great songwriting can meet in a traditional compromise everyone can enjoy.

Frightened Rabbit – “The Winter Of Mixed Drinks”

When I have a variety of people telling me to check out a band, I usually tend to veer away from ever giving their music a chance. It’s the music snob in me, and it’s a bad habit I am learning to break one day at a time. I started with “Midnight Organ Fight” as instructed, and quickly realized my preconceptions of this band were very wrong. The songwriting on “Winter” is sharp and witty throughout, and most of their songs – with themes of escape, freedom and reinvention – have extremely impassioned choruses made to be shouted from the nearest available mountain.

Lewis Black – “Stark Raving Black”

Much like a catchy song makes you want to tap your foot to the beat, Lewis Black persuades you to see society his way. Whether you agree with his position or not, by the end of every album, you find yourself at least understanding where he is coming from, if not completely giving in to his gospel. Black does it again on “Stark Raving Black”, recording seventy-five minutes of pure irritation and pure comedy. Lewis is brutally honest in his jokes, and not more so then when he declares, “Our two party system is a bowl of shit looking in the mirror at itself.” What makes Lewis Black the great topical comic he is (and my favorite comic period) is when he speaks, when you hear his voice, you not only hear the anger and animosity in his voice, but you become enraged yourself.

Underoath – “(Disambiguation)”

With their 2010 release, Underoath continues to progress. This is their first release without vocalist/drummer Aaron Gillespie, making it the first album screamer/growler/vocal beast Spencer Chamberlain has to helm himself. On first listen, “(Disambiguation)” seems a little out of place with the rest of the band’s library. The back and forth banter between Gillespie and Chamberlain is definitely something I miss. However, Chamberlain finds the balance in his own voice, volleying successfully between singing and low octave screaming, giving “Æ” a much darker feel. Underoath has evolved yet again. The more I listen, the more I find myself noticing the individual elements of the music, reminding me once more why Underoath is one of my favorite bands.

Good Old War – “Good Old War”

What makes this Philadelphia band so appealing, besides their classic folk sensibility, is the vocal harmonies utilized in their music. I had a crush on this band when they released “Only Way To Be Alone”, but now I am fully in love. The self titled contains songs like "That's Some Dream", which mixes solo vocals and group harmonies, a central acoustic guitar with an electric guitar coming in to play a solo in the bridge, and some honest lyrics, [“I know everyone would want me to say / That I'm not afraid to be alone / I'm gonna live, I'm all right / I'm gonna die, it's alright / I'm okay"]. “Good Old War” is one of the most real and personal collection of songs I've ever come across.

Norma Jean – “Meridional”

These Atlanta metal heads have found their niche. With “Meridional”, the band revisits their “Botch”-esque style the band often referenced at beginning of their career. It can’t be heard any clearer than on the album’s second track, “The Anthem Of The Dying Brides.” “Meridional” combines the more rock-style elements from Anti-Mother with old school “O’ God The Aftermath” they were playing at the beginning of their career. I believe Norma Jean finally found the “grown up” sound they were looking for, but realized getting older doesn’t mean forgetting the past, but building on it. This album can definitely hold its head up high right there with “Redeemer”.

2^ND RUNNER UP:

Menomena – “Mines”

I listened for months as Mr. Breckinridge discussed ad nauseum about how big a fan he was of Menomena and how he spun “Mines” forty-three times the first week he bought the album. After hearing a few tracks myself, I must agree, I was intrigued by the act. I went out and purchased the aforementioned album and after my first listen, I was as hooked as he was. Menomena exhibit creativity in their music not found in today’s musical gamut. Their previous outings can be compared to a child testing the cold water of a swimming pool, while “Mines” has the trio jumping full force into the freezing ocean. The band chooses each piece of the puzzle carefully before connecting them all in a completed song. Even the lyrics feel like they have been examined to the greatest detail. Regardless of how they're arranging their sounds, Menomena know how to balance them in a mix so that the listener can feel the spatial relationships between them. There's a lot of room for your ear to roam on “Mines”, and it is revealed over the course of your first few listens this is a very enjoyable album worth exploring and revisiting time and time again.

RUNNER UP

Bring Me The Horizon – “There Is A Hell, Believe Me I've Seen It. There Is a Heaven, Let's Keep It a Secret”

My first thought when I first spun “There Is A Hell…” was “Holy fuck. This album is really fucking good.” Everything about this band has improved on this album from the lyrics, to the songwriting, to the musicianship. As much love as I have for old school, I have give credit to Bring Me The Horizon for taking metal in an original direction. As young as they are, I've seen them live three times in the last year, and they can easily stand tall with the greats of heavy metal. A lot of heavier acts have grown into their own this past year and found their true sound, and BMTH have continued to build on “Suicide Season”, advancing further down the musical battlefield. One of the more surprising elements to this album is the guest-starring role of Lights on two tracks, “Crucify Me” and “Don’t Go”. You can’t really find two more contradicting vocal styles than Lights and Oli Sykes, but their dichotomy directly reflects the polarizing nature the album title suggests. Drew Beringer puts it best in his review on AbsolutePunk.net, “Debauchery was the general gist of ‘Suicide Season’, whereas some of the themes of ‘There Is A Hell…’ revolve around the consequences of that album.”

“There Is A Hell Believe Me I’ve Seen It, There Is A Heaven Let’s Keep It A Secret” will destroy all preconceived notions you had about Bring Me The Horizon. The aggression and passion bleeding from each track will stay with you for days, making this album an instant classic. This album cements the Brits' presence as one of the very best within the metal community.

ALBUM OF THE YEAR

Deftones – “Diamond Eyes”

The Deftones shelved their unreleased album, Eros, after bassist Chi Cheng was involved in a devastating car accident where he sustained serious brain trauma, which left him in a coma. The direction of the band was uncertain. Front man Chino Moreno stated:

[A]s we neared completion on Eros, we realized that this record doesn’t best encompass and represent who we are currently as people and as musicians… We needed to return to the studio to do what we felt was right artistically. Our inspiration and unity as a band is stronger than it has ever been before and we needed to channel that energy into our music, and deliver to our fans what you rightly deserve: the best Deftones record that we can make.

And they have done just that.

One of the reasons I love Deftones so much is because there is no other band like them. I haven’t come across one artist who I’ve ever described as “ sounding like the Deftones”. Along the same lines, I have heard many artists discuss their love of this band, but rarely have I ever heard anyone say they’ve tried to mimic the Deftones’ sound. Most likely: because it can’t be done.

The band produced an album that embodies the burden of a fallen comrade and expresses the aggressiveness and anger, which each member has to have endured over the last few years. Their take on metal continues to stretch the definition of the word. The soulful voice of Moreno effortless trades back and forth between ominous howl and bone shattering shriek. The flow of Stephen Carpenter’s guitar and Sergio Vega’s (Quicksand) bass makes one want to mosh and slow dance at the same time. Abe Cunningham’s killer drums and the beautiful fills of Frank Delgado’s samples and keyboards continue to push Diamond Eyes and the Deftones in a positive direction.

The members of Deftones could have done several things upon Cheng’s accident: called it quits, gone on indefinite hiatus, but rather, they chose to push on, creating maybe the best album of the career, and my choice as my favorite album of 2010.

To the edge til we all get off… I will take you away with me… Once and for all…

We Got Older, But We're Still Young

Funny how things change when you get older. I spoke a little bit about what I was going through turning twenty-nine in a previous post. Now I am approaching thirty (an age I am more than excited to reach) and I am beginning to take notice of a few aspects of my life, which are aging with me.

The most recent incident was while at the Thursday/Underoath show I attended. (I’d apologize for using the reference again, but I don’t give a shit.) In preparation for the show, I got myself all jazzed up to make my way into the pit to mosh and dance. However, once it reached show time, I found myself enjoying the show more merely singing along, taking in every nuance of the performance. I’ve been doing this recently at shows, but this was the first time I noticed myself sitting back and taking it all in. (I did dance a little when “Understanding In A Car Crash” started.) It’s like, as I get older, I don’t mind NOT being all beat up and bloody after a show.

The other thing I noticed that night was how the members of my favorite band also we’re beginning to age. The six members are all about the same age as myself, but you could see them slowing down as well. The music they put forth was as pure and amazing as ever, but Geoff Rickly, the lead singer, wasn’t as animated as he was a decade ago when I saw him tear down the Starland Ballroom. This isn’t a bad thing, only an interesting observation of how time moves on.

Gearing up for the age of the thirty also makes me look at the shape my body is in. Honestly, I’m in the best shape of my life since I’ve been in since college (I earned my size thirty-two skinny jeans). I ran over five hundred miles training for this year’s marathon, covering several distances greater than ten miles, and doing in very quickly. Sadly, due to a possible stress fracture in my right ankle, I didn’t get to participate in the forty thousand meter race this morning. It was a tough decision to put myself on the disabled list, hearing ghosts of past coaches telling me to push through the pain, and my own pride calling me a lazy asshole. My body won’t recover as quickly as it could even five years ago. And I love, love, LOVE to run, so the last thing I would want to do is risk taking myself out of the game permanently. If I have to ride my bike for the next week, then so be it.

I’m not trying to say thirty is old either. I’m not my sister telling me she feels like an old lady at twenty-five. (I know she is exaggerating most of the time, she runs almost as much as I do.) I never would have guessed at my age I would be any sort of competitive runner, but I’m out on the streets every night. I scan myself into the freak show known as Gold’s Gym three nights a week to tone up. I’m also awake every Sunday morning bright and early with fourteen of my buddies playing softball. I’m pretty much as active now as I was when I was swimming four hours a day in high school.

It sounds so cliché, but obviously you are only as old as you feel. My dad at fifty-five still weighs the same he did in high school and goes on twenty-plus mile bike rides as often as he can. He also recently took up weight lifting again, which can only add years onto his life. I helped my friend’s dad get back on a bike at age sixty-one and now you can’t keep him off it. He’ll go crush thirty miles in the valley, then before bed, do another hour on the stationary bike in his office. I’m still waiting for my dad to come visit so I can see these two duke it out on Dad’s challenge: one hundred and fifty miles from San Diego to LA.

Also, I quickly wanted to touch on my whole cutting back on the booze. I’ve slowly started having a drink here and there, but only for special occasions. For the most part, I want to continue to enjoy most of my week alcohol free. I hung out with the boss and another producer friend for St. Paddy’s day, I think I can allow myself a beer or two between old friends. I’m mainly over the feeling like crap the next day and having to apologize for being an idiot, which can easily be avoided by enjoying a tall glass of club soda.

I’ve seen what it’s like to give up. There is a gentleman, who shall remain nameless, who frequents a certain drinking establishment, one, which I tend to spend, as some may say, a little too much time in. He is sixty, a mere five years older than my father, who looks like he’s at least twenty-five years older than pops. The short story is he never expected to live that long, so he has pretty much given up on trying to do anything with his life. I assume he’s retired and spends the majority of his waking hours just being. Not doing much, I occasionally see him riding his bike around, but I know when he’s at The Whaler, he sits there, not saying much, watching the world converse and move on around him. It’s a bit of a bummer. If my life ever comes to that, someone kick me square in the nuts.

Age is simply a number. Time moves forward. The world evolves. These notions are what make life interesting. If age, and time, and on a grander scale, life, were constant, then everything we’d hope to experience would have the possibility of being pre-determined.

I don’t know about you, but one I’ve learned is change is not only good, but also necessary. I think if I remained the same person, and never attempted to be better, or funnier, or learn a new skill, or look at things from someone else’s point of view, or lose weight, or question authority, or run from here to Manhattan Beach, then I would live a very boring life. And that sounds pretty lame to me.

[PS: Oh, and if dick and fart jokes ever stop making me laugh, someone kill me.]

We never grew out of this feeling that we won’t give up…

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…