Remembering.

Ghost Ship in a Storm
Jim O’Rourke
Eureka
Drag City : 1999
[Listen] [Buy]

Muscle Cars
Mylo
Destroy Rock n’ Roll
Breastfed Records : 2004
[Listen] [Buy]

Gut Feeling
Devo
Q: Are We Not Men? A: We are Devo!
Virgin Records : 1978
[Listen] [Buy]

Iambic 9 Poetry
Squarepusher
Ultravisitor
Warp Records : 2004
[Listen] [Buy]

I’m Tired of Giving
Spinners
Spinners/8
Atlantic : 1977
[Listen] [Buy]

Evil
Howlin’ Wolf
Moanin’ in the Moonlight
Chess : 1965
[Listen] [Buy]

Have you ever hurt someone?

Have you ever made another person cry? Have you ever pushed someone who didn’t want to budge? Or, let words slip your mind and mouth without thinking twice? Have you ever knocked someone down and never let them get back up?

Have you ever cast someone aside without ever knowing quite why?

More importantly, have you ever been hurt?

I’m sure you can remember the feeling well. It is the simplest emotion or memory to dial up, to recall. Of all the happy, joyous things we’ve experienced in life, there are those dimmer moments that jut out awkwardly, rub against the grain, irritate and agitate the senses to the point that they can never be ignored.

Some of us have done it more than once, done it many times, made it a habit, a reflex, a part of the unconscious. It often happens without prior knowledge, but always leaves a mark.

These memories come back easily to me, from both perspectives. The caustic sting of pain being inflicted upon me, the harsh sensation sinking in, the slow realization of what’s going on. It takes a few moments for the mind and body to synchronize and transmit that sensation throughout, until you feel nothing else but that acute force flowing through your heart, your brain, your limbs.

It’s inescapable, unavoidable, a necessary chapter in life.

I’ll never forget – the slip and fall on Pamplona’s wet cobbled streets, and watching the bulls charge past me, just inches from my vulnerable, prostate body. The methadone dreams while under the knife for yet another 6-hour surgery, imagining the scalpel easing through the layers of skin and viscera, and watching my organs get tugged out of their niches one by one.

The first girl who broke my heart, behind the Science Buildings at school, telling me I was too good for her or some other playground bullshit. Saying goodbye to my father at the airport more times than I can remember, as I boarded yet another plane back to the US and away from him.

The first time I went to prison and saw D. in the jumpsuit, and the guard who yelled at me for shaking D’s hand. The doctors’ stern words, the liability waivers, the chemo drugs, the vomit, the Christmas I spent huddled on a couch away from my family, struggling alone.

No matter what I do in my lifetime, these few fleeting moments inevitably rise to the surface, a counterpoint to joy, the balancing force that keeps me grounded and makes me realize I’m still human.

We’re all still susceptible to the cycle of life, the ups and the downs regardless of where we end up or how much money is in the bank, or whether we live in a palm tree-shaded paradise or another inner-city row house with astronomical rent.

Walking around town, the people we pass in the streets experience the same peaks and troughs, just like us, no matter how bleak things seem there’s always worse to be found. Remember to breathe, take stock, focus. Remember those feelings well, if for nothing else than to make the bright times feel that much brighter.

Look at how far you’ve come, know that the road up or down is the same distance either way, and we’re better for it. Humility is such a lost art in our saturated world.

These songs, for better or worse, keep me grounded. Atmospheric, some with lyrics that make you laugh and acknowledge their truth, some with instrumental crescendos that help you open your eyes and remember both the good and the bad.

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More tomorrow.