It sucks to even have to think about money when someone dies, but it’s a reality. In my case, I’m inheriting full responsibility for a shitty, run-down old house that I need to maintain from here on out. You would expect that when a persons whole family dies over the course of 5 years or so, including an accidental death (re: double indemnity) that the beneficiary would be left with some considerable money. I know people who have had just one family member die, and been left with some seriously life altering amounts of cash. Well, it comes as no surprise to me that when the dust clears I will be left with little more than some new bills to pay. The money I’ll be left with from the insurance policies isn’t enough to improve even one room of this fucked up old house. It won’t be enough to clear my old debts and repair my credit, and it sure as shit won’t begin to do anything that involves “a new life”.

Like I said, it’s pretty much what I expected. But it really would have been nice to have just one pleasant surprise in this wretched existence, especially during such a fucked up time.

I was planning to write a post just pointing out the new design of this site and some other casual shit like that. And then someone else died.

As I sit here, it’s after midnight on the morning of February 3, which is my grandmother’s 86th birthday. She died a few hours ago. Late last week I came in the house from some lame appointment I had, to find that she had fallen down the stairs to the basement. Actually, the first thing I saw was Darwin crying his eyes out in the living room. I knew something was up. Apparently she had gone downstairs to get something, and lost her balance on the way back up. She fell straight back and hit the deck pretty hard. Now, even by your average 85 year old person standards, this woman was in pretty bad shape. She can barely move around on flat ground, let alone stairs. She always uses a cane to prop her up, and sometimes a walker. She absolutely knew better than to even make an attempt at these stairs. ESPECIALLY while watching my son.

I walked in just shortly after it happened, and I called 911 right away. That was the last time I saw her. She was conscious, in some pain, but it surely didn’t appear to be critical condition. I made several calls to speak with a doctor or nurse about her condition, but as usual, the staff over at the ol’ Crozer-Chester Medical Center proved to be less than helpful. The only update I got was “She had some MRI’s and she’ll be fine”. A little over 24 hours later she was dead.

She and I couldn’t have been more different. Having said that, she was my primary care-giver/guardian from birth through my teen years. She was super old fashioned, relatively closed-minded, and extremely giving despite the fact that her decades as a factory worker left her on the wrong side of middle class. And now her pain is over.

• MOST IMPROVED •

The Mars Volta / Octahedron

I’ve always tried to like The Mars Volta. Each album has had some interesting, memorable moments, but as a whole I found each of them to be damn near impossible to sit through. And don’t even get me started on the bullshit jam-session live performances. But Octahedron finally sees the band craft more focused pieces that can actually be called songs. The lyrics are still artsy-fartsy stoner baloney, but that’s fine in this case. I can sit all the way through this album, and I did so pretty often this year.

• WASTED HYPE •

Them Crooked Vultures / self-titled

If this was a debut album made by three guys that you’ve never heard of, it would not be getting anywhere near the kind of reviews or hype it has gotten. It’s a decent album at best, with a fairly dull lead singer. Everyone that loves this band loved it before they ever heard a single song.

• BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENTS •

Chris Cornell / Scream

This was simply the biggest wrong turn that a great artist could have made. What the fuck Chris was thinking here is completely beyond me. I just hope it was a very short-lived phase that never rears its head again. I hesitated to even put it on this list because I want to just forget about it and pretend it never existed. Horrendous.

Green Day / 21st Century Breakdown

I loved American Idiot, so I was eager to get into this album. Unfortunately I never could. It sounded weak from the first time I listened to it, and nothing grabbed me. Fail.

• HONORABLE MENTIONS •

Alice In Chains / Black Gives Way To Blue

There’s a certain faction of people that just aren’t willing to get over the whole “It’s not Layne so I don’t like it” bullshit. And trust me, I was skeptical coming in. Layne was special, and can’t be replaced. Luckily William Duvall never pretends to be Layne. He fits the aesthetic of the music, and he does it with skill and class. Does this rank up there with ‘Dirt’? No. But neither did the last album with Layne. This is a very good Alice In Chains album, powered mainly by Jerry Cantrell, just like all Alice In Chains albums.

Pearl Jam / Backspacer

Pearl Jam can do no wrong in my eyes, so admittedly, they have an easy ride onto any list that I create. Despite being the shortest album of the bands long career, Backspacer never disappoints. The band managed to pull out maybe the most hard rocking PJ song ever, “Gonna See My Friend” and one of their sweetest ballads, “Just Breathe”. Yet another great album from our finest living Classic Rock band.

AFI / Crash Love

It took AFI some time to settle into being a great rock band, which is what they are now. Crash Love is a timeless rock album. I don’t know that it can touch ‘Sing The Sorrow’ as the pinnacle of the bands creativity, but it far surpasses ‘Decemberunderground’. AFI have grown up and found their true voice. Great album.

• ALBUM OF THE YEAR •

dredg / The Pariah, The Parrot, The Delusion

Not only is this the album of the year, and very possibly the decade, but it will likely go down as one of my favorite albums of all time. It really is just about as perfect as an album can be. The production is absolutely flawless. Every nuance of every instrument is crystal clear, and mixed beautifully. The songs are all well-crafted, intelligent, and touching. This is very possibly the highlight of one of America’s finest, most creative bands ever. If you haven’t given this album your undivided attention for at least a few spins, you are really missing out on something special.

I have to wonder, just how often do most people think about dying? I guess it varies depending on a person’s age and infinite combinations of life situations. An 85 year old woman with cancer probably thinks about it more often than your average 31 year old man with no obvious health issues. But I suppose that means I’m not your average 31 year old man.

I think about it a lot. Like, a lot. I wonder how I’ll die, how it will feel, who (if anyone) will be near me. And I always give lots of thought about the idea of taking my own life. Again, this is no suicide note or anything, I’m just saying it’s a thing that happens, and it’s something I think about. I like to be in control of things in my own life, and frankly, I would like to be in control of my own death as well. I think that is my right.

How would I do it? Hmm. I guess you have your standards; cutting, hanging, and the good ol’ “self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head”. I can never imagine me sitting in a bathtub cutting my own arms, legs or throat and just waiting to bleed out. I think that would induce so much panic and anxiety. It just doesn’t seem pleasant at all. Hanging is not my style at all, I would surely just fall on the floor with god knows what tied around my neck and sprain my ankle or hurt my back. Fuck that. And the gun thing? I don’t know. It’s relatively simple and quick, with a romantic air of violence to it. But there are always those stories about the people that tried that and lived through it, only to endure more suffering in life. Not to mention they end up looking like an asshole for not even being able to kill themselves properly. Plus, guns are expensive right? Money is a huge contributor to most suicides, so adding to the cost is just silly.

I would want something that happens fast, and leaves little or no chance of accidental survival. Something free of monetary cost. I’ve also never wanted any kind of bullshit funeral for phony people to come to and pretend that they ever liked or understood me. So whatever it is shouldn’t leave much behind for any kind of viewing or debate about what to do with the body. What would do that? I know, a bomb! Duh, who the fuck has a bomb? Not me. Jumping out of a plane or off a huge building? Ehh, too involved. Oooohh, I think I know.

Whenever I’m waiting for the R2, or at the park near the Norwood train station, those super fast Acela/Amtrak trains fly by at up to 150 mph, and I just always think “Wow, what if someone was standing right there?”. What must it feel like to be the man standing there, knowing that train is coming. Feeling the end of everything bear down on you, creeping closer by the second as the ground vibrates harder and harder. Surely your jaw and fists would be clenched harder than ever before. Your heart racing. What an inconceivable rush that must be. By the time that train is close enough to notice, you surely wouldn’t have time to even carry out whatever final thoughts your brain would initiate. And all of a sudden, gone. No pain, no stress. No more fights, no more threats, no more bills to pay, no more people to disappoint. And in this case, I would imagine no body left behind. It seems so scary and violent, but at the same time, so very simple and liberating.

How much of your daily life can be described as “simple and liberating”? For me, about 0.0% of it. There’s not a single fucking moment that goes by that feels anything like simple and/or liberating in any way. I can’t seem to make a single move without it having some strings or a price tag attached to it. I want to do “the right thing”, but there is no such thing. What’s right in one direction, causes wrong in the other direction. The perfect balance doesn’t exist. Not for me anyway, and it makes life seem unbearable most of the time.

That’s a photo of my Mother holding me up by my crotch in 1978, the year I was born.

She died early Sunday morning (September 6), sometime shortly after midnight or so. She was 51 years old. How did she die? Well, I’m sure official medical records will show something involving complications from cirrhosis, or something like that. I would call it suicide. Slow, reckless suicide. She started abusing her body at age 9, and (aside from hospital stays) never went a day without intentionally ingesting some form of poison into herself. Cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, “medication”, whatever it was, it was always something.

Like so many people I know, she just liked to party. Consistently. She wasn’t some dark junkie laying a corner, unable to function. Well, not until much later, anyway. She liked to go out, and she liked to have fun. Luckily for her, having a child didn’t have to slow her down too much, thanks to her adopted parents, otherwise known as my “grandparents”. If it weren’t for them, I have no idea what my life would have been like. I spent the vast majority of my childhood and adolescence living with them, with my mom also living there on and off. Mostly on. She would disappear for hours, and sometimes days or longer with not so much as a mention as to where she might be going or what she might be doing. Of course, at a certain age that part became more clear to me.

It was this fucked up behavior, combined with her young age (she had me at age 20) that made her so obviously the “cool mom” to all of my friends and trouble-making teenagers in my neighborhood. She took us to the drive-in, the mall, concerts, and there wasn’t much that was off-limits. You could smoke, drink, curse, and puff on some joints all under the watchful eye of my mother. As a rebellious kid who thrived on dirty rock n roll and heavy metal, I knew that it was my job to be nothing like my parents. So my path was clear from pretty early on; I had to be straight edge. Thanks, Mom.

Speaking of music, I have to thank her for that one as well. As a kid, my mom had music playing constantly. Too many to name, but the list was as diverse as my current music library. Black Sabbath and Teena Marie were among her first gifts to me, along with the first Mötley Crüe album. Queen, Dio, W.A.S.P., AC/DC… she was a rocker. She took me to my first concert (Michael Jackson/The Jacksons) on September 2, 1984, my second concert (Iron Maiden) on July 22, 1988, and countless others after that. When I was a teenager, it was more like her just going to the same show I was going to because we dug the same bands. Like White Zombie for example. I can’t tell you how often my Mom had on a fucking White Zombie t-shirt. She bought me my first bass when I was in high school, and was always very supportive of my musical endeavors.

In the end, she was stubborn. As medical issues started to appear, she could have altered her behavior. She knew what she was doing, and chose to continue on her path. And make no mistake, the vice that did the most damage to my mother, without question, was cigarette smoking. Yeah she fucked with some hard drugs in her day, and she had some periods of frequent drinking, but those cigarettes were constant.

My relationship with her was up and down for sure. I’ve felt close to her at times, but also extremely angry and resentful. I hated the fact that she did so much wrong, but seemed to be given such an easy ride. Constantly forgiven and bailed out of everything she got herself into. I’ve also made it clear that those people, mainly my grandmother, contributed greatly to her untimely demise by never forcing her to do things right. My Mom knew that no matter how much of a fuck-up she was, that she had a free house to live in, with virtually no responsibilities whatsoever. I was very vocal about the fact that she should be thrown out of the house and forced to be an adult, for her own good. That never happened, she never learned to be responsible, and she’s dead at 51 because of it.

Darwin will grow up without grandparents from my side, which is very sad to me. My dad is technically still alive, but as far as I’m concerned, he’s as dead as my mother is. This was the final step in taking away everything that I can call family, aside from Darwin.

Despite my hesitance to express it in recent years, I did love my Mother. I’m sad that she’s gone, especially for Darwin’s sake, and I’m sorry that it had to happen the way it did. Peace out, Mom.

It took a long time to actually get on a focused path for this new album. The future of DDC was pretty uncertain after the Human Condition version of the band ended. I wanted some new challenges, but I also wasn’t feeling overly confident. Eventually, I got collaborating with some folks (Anthony Orsino, John Bozzuto, Tom Roller) and the new music started to take shape.

Aside from the staggered start to the making of the album, the biggest issue was the decision to do all the vocals myself. There were a few potential singers in the mix, but none really hit the spot. It was just time to step up and take a shot at using my own voice to convey my ideas for what Dark Disco Club is right now. That also meant I was responsible for all of the lyrics as well. Yikes!

Now that the new album (EP, whatever) is about 96% complete, I can start to get an idea of what we’ve created. And it is surely something I’m proud of. Until an album is complete; mixed, mastered, packaged, etc. you can’t really get the full picture. But it’s moving along well and should be in peoples ears on schedule.

The inspiration for this album came from real life, as usual. I’m not the kind of person that writes elaborate fictional stories or invents characters to populate my songs. I’m also not a person that gets inspired to write much about happiness, joy, or anything positive really. Now, this album does have a bit of… I dunno, cautious optimism, maybe. For example, the song “One Blood” is about a true love and finding a real bond that lasts (hopefully) forever. And while it’s lyrical content is pretty sparse, “Sonrise and the Fall of Man” is just about noticing that one speck of positivity in the midst of a whole world of shit. The other songs touch on sex, hatred, regret, and placing blame for all kinds of good stuff.

Musically, it actually sounds like what I wanted The End to sound like. It’s more “live” and hard rocking than The Human Condition was, but way more diverse and interesting than The End. I’m sure I’ll write more about it when the time gets closer.

A few weeks ago, I was at the playground with Darwin, pushing him on a swing. He was smiling, giggling occasionally. We were having a nice relaxing day together. For whatever reason, it dawned on me that such a thing had never been shared between my father and I. I get really emotional when I slow down and notice all of the little things that he and I do together. Like holding hands and walking, carrying him on my shoulders, playing with a ball, feeding him lunch, listening to music together, laying him down to sleep, kissing him, and just about everything.

Just the other day, while at another little playground with him, I was going over some DDC lyrics in my mind to try to memorize them since we’re now gearing up to perform live. This was the weirdest thing… just a moment after playing back a line that says “and if you should ever fall, you know I’m right behind you”, Darwin fell. Mind you, this is a song written about him. He was climbing some relatively big stairs to get up to a slide, and slipped or took a wrong step. In a split second, he fell backwards and twisted slightly toward the edge of the stairs, essentially aiming him off the side, and down to what would surely have been an ugly incident. But, I was right behind him. I caught him and propped him right back up and he was none the wiser. He went right back to business and went down the slide, smiling all the way. Something my father never did for me.

As these months fly by, I find myself thinking about it more and more. Just watching us in slow motion and trying to enjoy it all while I can. Even on the rough days when he’s being extra difficult, I lay down at night, and he is on my mind. I see that funny face, and hear his silly babbles. I miss him when he’s not with me. He’s inspired artwork, songs, been the subject of an unreasonable amount of photos and videos, and this is just the first 22 months! It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced.

Despite the fact that 99.9999% of my life is one one big regrettable disaster, I can honestly say that I know what true love feels like.

The following statements are true:
21st Century Breakdown is a great album.
21st Century Breakdown is a shitty album.

In creating the follow-up to American Idiot, Green Day made the respectably ambitious choice to go really big. They created another full-blown rock opera that follows a young couple named Christian and Gloria through life in the United States following the presidency of George W. Bush, as they “deal with the mess our 43rd president left behind”. All good.

The good news is that there are a ton of extremely well-written songs here. And really, that’s what the core of any great album has to be. You get plenty of the up-beat rock that Green Day does so well, along with a good mix of epic rockers that would make Queen proud, and some very well executed ballads. If there’s any weakness in the songwriting this time around, it would be some vague lyrics. I think Billie Joe went a little too universal in order to help with the whole grandiose vibe. An issue, but not the end of the world.

Now the bad news. They chose Butch Vig to produce the album. Despite his work on some classic albums from Helmet, AFI, and L7, this turned out to be a horrible choice. Without question, the production killed what this album could have been. It sounds generic and lifeless. Tre’s drums could be a drum machine set to the default rock kit for all I know, and Billie Joe’s voice is just all too sweet and layered. There’s no grit. There’s no humanity. You can’t actually hear any of the playing, if that makes sense. You just hear this too-well-balanced end result. There’s nothing worse than an album being ruined by something that isn’t the music. Ugh.

I lost my job. I kinda sorta lost it before when my boss ran out of money, but now it’s really lost. And it could not have happened at a worse time. After that whole moving twice in a row bullshit, I have way less money in my bank account. And in a month (if that), I will have no money whatsoever in my bank account. My bills have piled up, I got royally fucked on my taxes, and now I have no income.

Seriously, I hate my life. I tried so hard to do well. I always wanted to do better than my “family” had done. I was the first to go to college, and sure, it was a shitty college that ended up fucking me in the end, but it was a huge challenge for me, and I got through it. I had grand plans of graduate school, good job, be good to my son, etc. All of it torn down brick by brick. I’m left with no job, a shitty car, and an apartment that I will probably be evicted from for lack of payment. I want so badly to just find stability in a job that pays me enough to get by semi-comfortably. At this point, my dream job pays me $400-$500 per week and let’s me spend my days with Darwin up until 4 PM or so. Everyone’s advice eventually comes down to suggesting that I just take a shitty job “for now”, as if there’s ever a way to dig out of that grave once you’re in it. Sure, I guess i could try to go beg some fast food restaurants for a job, and maybe I’ll have to do just that. But I am not exaggerating one bit when I tell you that I would rather have my face blown off by a shotgun than have that job. I do not want to flip a burger. I do not want to take your order, call your phone, clean up your mess, or stack any fucking boxes.

Life is meant to be lived, and I don’t feel very alive these days. Darwin means everything to me, but all I can think about is how I’m on track to be the huge disappointment that I never wanted to be. I walk through stores, even the supermarket, and see simple things that I want to get for him. And I just can’t get them. Not extravagant things mind you. I’m talking food, clothes, blocks, a book, a puzzle. I am constantly forced to think about money and how I have none, and how I can’t find a job. I was very confident that I was getting that other Digital Music Teacher position that I applied for, but in the end it was given to someone with a doctorate in music education.

I could go on and on, bitching about everything, because trust me there is plenty of bad shit to talk about. It all adds up to the fact that I hate my fucked up life and I really just wish it would end. Emo? Goth? Maybe. But truer than anything I’ve ever said.

THE DARK HERO
The dark heroes are perhaps the toughest of the heroes to write and base a story around, as they become so dark they may turn their audiences and have them rooting for the villain. These heroes are usually driven by some kind of tragedy or traumatic event in their life that turns them against the laws of society and, in some rare cases, nature. Dark heroes do not break the rules like the swashbuckler but simply disregards them to get the job done. The best-suited example would be the millionaire Bruce Wayne. He witnesses the death of his parents , falls into a cave while disturbing a family of bats and become the well-known Batman who illegally punishes lawbreakers in his own unique way. Another character who easily falls into this category is Paul Atreides in Frank Herbert’s Dune. Driven to the deep deserts of Arrakis after a bloody coup led by House Harkonnen, Paul becomes “Muad’Dib.” In the beginning, he is nothing more than a revolutionary, but as the story unfolds so does Paul’s evolution into a messiah. While he does use his powers to liberate Arrakis, Paul also uses his newfound abilities to hold the universe for ransom.

THE CLASSIC VILLAIN
This type of villain embodies all of our fears and insecurities – the Supreme Evil. These villains are the sociopaths or psychopaths of fiction. They act with a purpose (their own purpose), and care little about who or what is in the way of their goals. They are different from the scoundrel and swashbucklers who disregard the rules of society for fun. The classic villains break the rules because they believe the rules are a hindrance – this is something that makes the line between the Dark Hero and the Classic Villain a very thin one indeed. The only difference is that in the end the Dark Hero ultimately still works for the good side as viewed from the general perspective. The Classic Villain works for himself and his/her definition of good (usually what’s good for them).

Lately I’ve been feeling more and more like a villain. And I don’t know that I’m really trying to stop that. I genuinely feel like the world has taken a sharp turn against me. So fuck it.