Wednesday, August 1, 2018


There's this little noise she makes when she's asleep, like in that deep, good sleep that comes after a really great day with people she loves. It's not a moan or a yelp but, kind of in between. When I hear that noise I look over and try to see her through the dark. In those moments everything inside of me is screaming, I FUCKING LOVE YOU!

It sounds better than the best Frank Turner song.

Maybe one night I will scream I FUCKING LOVE YOU when she makes that sound. One does want a bit of the surreal in a marriage after all.

But then I think, I want to live.

Anyway, I miss that noise when she's away.

Have a day.

Friday, July 13, 2018

I was just thinking

I met a young airman yesterday.

He has two dogs and two cats but, he wants a lot more.

He casually mentioned that his husband won't let him get more until they buy a house.

It was nothing. It was like me mentioning my wife.

It was beautiful.

It was heartbreaking.

I am old enough to remember the days before Don't Ask, Don't Tell.  We had an airman get booted when I was at DLI for being caught with another man.

And here I was talking to this sweet kid about dogs and his husband like it was the most normal thing in the world.

And my mind turned to #45 and his homophonic supporters. The religious asshats who already made it easy for him to go after trans military members. The same asshats who are pushing to make it okay to deny services to people based solely on how they love.

His kicking out people who were promised a life here in return for their service.

You can't tell me he won't go after gays in the military. I've seen too much to believe he won't hurt people based on the most trivial of differences.

45 is bad people you guys. I don't understand why that is so hard to see.

Have a day

Sunday, July 1, 2018

All the best words have been taken

A song writer friend of mine once said, write a song. I said, all the best songs have been written already.

I have an amazing poster on my wall imploring me to just fucking write something. It was a gift from an awesome nerd.

I want to tell you that I write all the time. I don't.

I want to tell you that a writer is always writing even when he isn't because he is observing, absorbing, being inspired. He isn't.

When I drove Skinny Lister on tour I was reminded that being a rockstar is a lot of fucking work and that work is hard. I knew that from doing comedy but, clearly I forgot.

Why should writing be any different?

Well, Rudy, because all it takes is sitting down and clickity click clicking on your keyboard. Any slightly evolved monkey can do that! 

Yesterday I was taking a piss and it hit me that I missed TGB. She is away in Nashville. As I washed my hands I panicked as thoughts of her dying in a crash on the way home flashed through my mind.

Will she know how much I love her, how rich she made this life as she lie dying on the side of the road?

I should write that story. 

That story was already written and turned into a movie. 


A friend asked me to take him on the road for a week next summer. A short comedy tour.

I haven't done comedy in two years. I need to knock off a lot of rust.

Why haven't I done comedy? Sobriety and happiness.

My particular comedy pulled the funny out of the darkness in my life. Death, cancer, racism, molestation, all ripe for my comedic talents.

Katie is waiting for pages.

Charlie is waiting for pages.

You're waiting for a story.

I'm going to go watch a movie.

Have a day.

Tuesday, June 26, 2018

Let the hate flow through you

Hate gets a bad rap.

Hating people who believe people who look or love different are somehow less than is not only fun but, the right fucking thing to do.

Hating wannabe nazis is good.

Hating policy makers that advocate separating children from their parents simply because they travel here the wrong way, looking for a better life, is more than okay.

This idea that hate is always bad, that it leads to the dark side is misguided and silly.

If you think Americans didn't hate taxation without representation, you might be a wee bit stupid.

If you think slaves didn't hate slave masters and being slaves or, black people didn't hate separate but equal you might be a special kind of stupid.

Hate is just a word. It is neither good nor bad, it simply is... until you put it to use.

I hate 45 and most of his policies. I hate that people who support him make excuses for shitting on those they deem less than. I hate that his supporters make excuses for deplorable behavior.

45 hates anyone who does not fall at his feet. He hates people he can't understand. He hates those he considers less than. He uses hate to work up his base and they eat it up and love (irony alert) him for it. He uses that hate to advocate policies that would turn so many human beings into other and less than then pointing and blaming those same others for all that is wrong and his supporters eat that shit up.

I hate policies that seek to exclude the marginalized and weakest among us. I hate the people who jump through mental hoops to justify those policies.

I'm a hateful motherfucker.

Have a day.

Monday, June 25, 2018

The world's more interesting than that, Dana

You have to learn to separate the stuff from the stuff. 

It's a favorite line of mine written by Aaron Sorkin and uttered by William H. Macy as Sam Donovan during the Dana Get Your Gun episode.

A known white supremacist takes a role effecting (affecting?) policy with 45's administration. He pushes policies that would seek to harm those who seek asylum or, heaven forbid, simply want a better life.

A human person with no political power or aspirations sees a meme on social media and asks a simple question: what about the people who are here, who did it the way they were supposed to?

Sam Donovan was marveling at the Brown Bess that was sitting in Dana's office. Dana, as a card carrying member of an anti-gun violence group (the name escapes me), Dana was indignant. Then Sam told her the story of a bunch of farmers and nobodies (paraphrasing) who fought off the Brits with little more than a musket and gumption. Then he informed her that he abhors gun violence and, is in fact, a member of the same anti-gun violence group.

You have to learn to separate the stuff from the stuff. 

Have a day.

I couldn't find the Brown Bess scene so here's the Cliff Gardner scene. It's amazing.

Thursday, June 21, 2018

World Salad, June 21, 2018

Had a dream about Florida Man last night. He asked me if I belonged in this country and for documentation to back it up.

Hasn't happened in real life so, I got that going for me.

I've been thinking a lot about Charlie Chaplin. He was a lot of things. A comedian, an actor, a creator who tried to bring good things into this world. He was a philanderer, married four times, he was a father.

Our heroes are never perfect.

It's never a coincidence that our heroes are so very much like us. Some might say that's because we emulate them but, I disagree. I think there is something of us in them whether we see it or not at first.

I admired and loved John Lennon and Eric Clapton long before I learned about their complicated relationships with their mothers. Same with James Dean and Jim Morrison.

As I learned more about them the things I loved in them made more sense. The reasons things they created resonated with me so profoundly took on an even deeper meaning.

My love of Shirley Manson and strong as fuck women in general makes more sense when viewed through the lens of a boy with an absentee (weak willed) mother.

Of course, even with Shirley, it's that bit I learn later that brings it home even more. The struggle with who she is in this world, the self-hate covered by a false bravado, growing up and into her own skin and accepting (to a point) just who she is and being okay with herself just as she is.

When someone tells me they admire me or, gasp, that I am their hero, I think, if you had any idea how fucked up I am, how much I am absolutely faking it, you would change your mind.

And then... sometimes, I hear myself talking to me like I would talk to you:

Why not you? Yeah, you fuck up, maybe even more often than not but, you get up every time, dust yourself off, and keep fighting the fight. And yeah, the fight is mostly with yourself but, so is theirs and if you offer even a glimmer of hope to them fighting theirs then maybe you should cut yourself some slack. Maybe, when you can't get up, they'll be the ones to pick you up.

I used to want to be a hero. When I was a kid.

Now that I am old man my heroes have changed. My heroes are people most of the world have never heard of. They're the small handful of people I hold close who fight their own fights with a courage I aspire to.

There is no real point to this post.

My coffee needs a refill so I will leave you now.

Have a day.

Wednesday, June 20, 2018

No song today. I just don't have it in me.

Watch the above clip and you'll know how I feel about my country lately. 

When people tell me Republicans and Democrats are the same I think, kids, veterans, women. One side uses the three for rhetoric, the other side at least tries to serve them as constituents. 

I texted Kris yesterday that I was not writing much because I am so angry so much of the time and that when I write I angry I come across as nagging. 

We commiserated on our exasperation at what our country has become and went about our day.

I find myself loathing people I once admired. People who are bending over backwards to justify the kind of behavior we used to point to and say, we're better than that.

We aren't better. 

We take children from their parents for political gain. We point to those parents and children and say, they're the problem, they're to blame, if they didn't want their children taken away they shouldn't have come, they're using their children as shields...

We the people have the power to change all of this. It was built into our Constitution. 

We'll protest, we'll shout on social media, we'll blog about it but, when it comes time to doing something about it - actually voting - we sit at home. 

That makes us all complicit. 

I'm done worrying about 45ers anymore. Fuck them and the horse they road in on. 

Anymore, I am going to try to work on the non-voters. Or, better yet, the disenfranchised voter who gave up some time ago for any number of reasons.

It's either that or take a fucking flamethrower to whole fucking thing. 

Have a day. 

Monday, June 18, 2018

Misheard lyric

You always said that Father's Day was just another day...

First, I always hear that lyric wrong. Also, the song from whence it comes is a bit of a downer about a shit relationship with dad but, that particular line means something to me that is a bit anathema to the song itself.

My dad never made me feel obligated or pressured to celebrate Father's Day. It was just another day. Of course, that made me all the more determined to celebrate the man on that day.

Which, now that I think of it, may have been the plan all along. Maybe my dad was just an evil genius.

Yesterday I hurt for a lot of my friends. The usual faire of thanks mom for pulling double duty posts made me wish they could have met my old man.
I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards and, broken things.
Friends of ours (mine and my siblings) with shit dads loved him because he took them as they were. He loved the kids who felt unlovely, unlovable.

When we had his funeral I had strangers tell me that my dad was there for their kid, for them, when their dad wasn't. He spent time with kids whose fathers wouldn't.

I don't know that there is a better gift than time spent.

A little more time would definitely be nice.

Have a day.

Wednesday, June 13, 2018

If you have my back

My favorite thing about seeing a Frank Turner show is watching people that have never seen him live before get it. That moment when something clicks and they know this is just the first of many more FT shows for them.

Was at the Tabernacle in Atlanta this weekend and when he asked, how many of you are seeing us for the first time I took note to watch some of the hands raised. The show went on and I could see so many moments where those first timers full blown Turnerds.

I had a first of my own in Atlanta. I got to see the Menzingers for the first time ever. They were every bit as good as I had hoped. Next goal: seeing them with my good friend, KK.

The next night, in Orlando, I got to watch friends of mine have their moment. Watching people I love fall in love with Frank makes me smile so big water escapes from the corner of my eyes.

It's like, hey, I love you and here is this part of me and they're all oh my god, I love this part of you and now it's a part of me and you both dance and celebrate because something inside each of you is that much more alive and your bond is a little more unbreakable because of music.

And then, boom, one more Turnerd.

It's way fucking cooler when the men on stage are better human beings than they are musicians. And they are, each of them, beautiful human beings.

Frank hugs like you're the only person on the planet to him. I love that. - TGB.

Yeah. And they play every show like it's their last night on the stage.

I want to do more of everything like that.

Have a day.

Oh yeah, and this happened. But you knew that already.

Saturday, June 9, 2018

It is all of us

I think about suicide a lot. Everyday a lot.

I don't want to die but, it is one of those voices that whispers in my ear.

When things suck, it's almost a scream.

When things are good, it's a constant yeah but...

I am not saying this as a cry for help. I am saying this because of the response to yesterday's dribble.

It was pointed out that, while my post was good and well meaning, maybe, the best course is to be there long before things get to that dark place.

And you know what? The people who say that are right.

It was pointed out that the strongest among us are every bit as likely (arguably more so) to take their own life and that it would be wise and compassionate to check on them, too.

I am telling you that I think about suicide daily because I know my life is, from the outside, a magical thing. And it is, actually.

And yet, that nagging is there.

I tried once and ended up in a psych ward for four days.

Pills and alcohol. A text sent in my haze brought friends to my home. They stood me up, walked me in my yard until an ambulance arrived. I was made to drink charcoal and kept for observation then admitted.

Again, I tell you this not for pity but as an example.

I love the shit out of my life. It is staggeringly beautiful.

And yet... there is always that part of me that just wants to get it over with, a part of me that cannot wait for the relief that I am sure will come with the end.

I approach my tendencies the way I approach my sobriety: one day, one hour, one minute and, when it is particularly dark, one second at a time.

Again, this is not a cry for help. This is my reminder that it is not always the sad, seemingly depressed sorts that take their lives. It's all of us. That smiling kid you see at the show tonight. That woman in love at your office. That guy with the fancy car and new promotion.

It is all of us.

I write this so you know that you are not alone. You are not abnormal. You are not weird. You are just like me. If you are thinking, why would you ever think your life would  be better served without you... well, I wonder the same thing about you and your life.

So lean in. Listen. Love hard as fuck. Let's, all of us, never take each other for granted.

Good talk.

Have nice day.

Friday, June 8, 2018

Thoughts after another suicide

It's a weird thing, suicide.

It's like you decide, okay, this is where my story ends. And then the rest of the world you built gets to clean up the mess.

There's always a question of why and what could we have done to stop it. But that thought always seems to come after. 

But what about now? Like, while I am alive. What can I do to stop you from thinking, I must be going now?

How do I make it clear to you that my life is richer simply by having you in it? And is that even enough?

Is it enough to tell you that if I get that call tomorrow morning I will crumble into a million pieces?

Do I need to scream at the top of my lungs that I not only love you but, I fucking need you?


If I quote your favorite movies or songs or books, will you stay another day?

I'm not a doctor but, if I could I would heal all the broken bits inside of you. If I had to carry that burden for you, I would.

I don't want to wait til after you're gone to wonder what I could have done to keep you here.

I need to know now so I can hold onto your light for as long as possible.

Because that is what you are, a light in my sometimes dark as fuck world. You have helped guide me, kept me smiling, made me laugh, made me simply glad to still be alive.

I love you.

Have a nice day.