Damn You Bobby McFerrin

This morning, a pal on Facebook posted a video for Bobby McFerrin's nauseatingly optimistic anthem "Don't Worry Be Happy". I didn't even watch the video and the song has STILL been in my head all morning. That's because it also happens to be nauseatingly catchy and memorable.

Like hearing any song older than a year or two, it instantly sent me back to when it was all over the radio.

I was a young teenage skateboarder with more anxieties than pimples. I lived a very simple life.

Ditch school to smoke drugs with pals.

Hide from girls on the bus. (As if they were looking for me.)

Skate.

Repeat.

Before I really got into making music, my entire life was skateboarding. When I couldn't skate, I was reading Thrasher, listening to all the punk rock bands that Thrasher told me to listen to, watching 5th generation copies of skate videos or drawing boobies on anything that would hold ink.

As I said. Simple life.

Clearly, Mr.McFerrin played a larger role in the soundtrack of that era than I would have guessed, because as soon as I got that "do do. do do. do do." shit in my head, I was right back on my board skating the streets of Wenatchee with my pals Danny, Jamie and Cho. Or down-hilling on 15th Street with David. Or maybe even working up the balls to drop in on the intimidating half-pipe ramp in Andy's backyard.

This sent me into a massive panic attack. Not JUST because I was afraid I would never get that fucking song outta my head. But because I was abruptly aware of my life now as it related to my life then. It was unrecognizable. These are the things that come with age, naturally. There have been countless writers and philosophers that have handled the subject much more eloquently than I could ever attempt, so I do realize this is nothing new.

Except that it is for me. I'm probably the world's least nostalgic guy. Looking back tends to only make me feel creepy. But I was sad today when I realized that there was no going back to those days. Partially because I'm 35 now and don't even OWN a skateboard. Partially because Jamie and Cho moved away and Danny, David and Andy are all dead now. There's nothing I could possibly do in this world to make that skate session happen.

That's the sad part. That's the part that caused my panic attack.

I like my life right now. It's going in a good direction. I have moved on from most of my crippling anxieties and I would say I'm mostly optimistic. Not Bobby McFuckinFerrin optimistic, but still.

Some things I can't change. Some things I can.

I had some money I was saving to order a larger print job for my comic Edgar Rue. Today, after work I'm using it to buy a new skateboard. 12 year old Ronnie would kick me in the sack and steal my drugs if he knew how long 35 year old Ronnie had been without one.

The Wasp Factory

One of favorite books is "The Wasp Factory" by Iain Banks. I won't go into any detail about the content of the book, but I will say that I do not recommend it. In fact, if it were not for the twist at the end, I would have flat out hated it. It's horrible. In a good way? I don't really think so. But anything that nestles into your brain and continuously bothers you, years after the fact, must be good on some level.

Anyway, I was compelled to write a song based on this book. I'm certainly not the first. Paul D'Amour (TooL, Lusk) is down right obsessed with the book, and it's author. Others have quoted this book through song. But I never felt it was properly summed up, musically. So, I wrote my own interpretation. Not of the subject matter, but the feeling of the book in general. The tension that it builds in your fragile mind as you anticipate the next awful chapter. The worry of worry itself.

So, I came up with this little ditty. It fills me with dread and anxiousness every single time I play it. I love it. I hate it. It was a rare case where I set out to make something, and the final outcome fit the bill perfectly.

Many people might find it dull. Or pointless. I accept that. But close your eyes and clear your mind and press play. If your thoughts are filled with pleasantries, than you, my friend are dead inside.

First Podcast!

Christopher Hart, Jon Mark Pitts and I have started a new podcast called "Tales from the Spacepod". We have wacky discussions about ufos, cryptids and the paranormal. Not safe for work by any means. So, headphones on!

Until I can figure out how to get this shit up on iTunes etc, I will be posting these here.