I messed up again. They all warn me how I am when I drink, but I went out to work, and later went for a night cap. Next thing you know, I'm fighting my own mother, asking why she let me fall like this. She's my mom for Christ's sake. The worst I've done, you've read about, well mostly anyway. I still think it's a valid question, but everyone looks at me like a friggin' drunk. I wish I had the balls to ask that question sober. I suppose it's easier for her, and the rest of my family to say “that boy is nuts” than answer a simple question. You would think after the thousandth time I've asked a question to thirty different people, I could at least get one honest, intelligent answer, but I don't see it on the horizon. Why not answer “You weren't worth the trouble.”, or “I really did try, but I couldn't do anything.” Even when I break down into tears, it's nothing more than a “breakdown” to people. Can't anyone see the real pain inside a person? How dare a mother ask how she can help, and turn her back at the answer, especially when a simple hug would do. I'm beginning to feel exiled from the human race.....
The nightmares began again. Not nearly as bad as the night before, but enough to wake me up at seven in the morning. Startled awake, I looked around, as much as I could, and realized I was on the bottom of my best dream. Three completely hot guys all squished together next to me. I took it all in, with smiles, and a camera phone. This is the most unlikely foursome you'd ever see. Keith, Mr. Macho, Rory, Cute and sensual, Shawn, Surfer and adorable, and me, boy next door. It made me smile thinking about how this all came about, and how comfortable I've become around these people in such a short period of time. 'Aw hell with it' I thought, when I set my ass in the crease between Shawn's legs, resting my own legs on Rory's and Keith's, using the arm rest as a pillow. I needed to go back to sleep.....
“Comfortable babe?” I'm sure at that point all I did is moan a little bit. “Do you like this?” (Most likely more moaning, although I don't know why.) “How 'bout this?” Someone is pinching my nipples, so I hop up yelling “What the fuck?!?” Next thing you know, I'm hit in the face by five pounds of flour, and I can hear the camera snap. Seriously, who antiques people anymore? I had to remind myself that all is great that is fun. With my attitude in check, I would have worn it all day if my babes didn't run up with a towel. “Babe, it wasn't me, it was Keith, I swear. He said your feet were violating him, and before I could do anything, he had Rory whispering sweet nothings in your ear...” Shawn begged. It took a good fifteen minutes to calm him down, and to think I was the one that was supposed to be pissed. When I think back on the times, I could be woken up like that every day, and I'd still wear an ear-to-ear every day.
That morning I realized not a single one of us are morning people, but I kind of don't have a choice. I wake from my dreams with a start, but everyone else has no problem sleeping until noon. After I finally picked the raw biscuits out of my hair, I looked back at the couch and all three of them were sleeping again. With a little more respect than the majority of the rest of the band, I opted to pick up an acoustic and jam out in the far corner of the garage. I always play the slower stuff when I play the echos, rather than the electric, and by myself I chose the songs that make me feel, rather than make others feel. After playing a few Lennon songs, a bunch of Zeppelin, and a couple of J.D. Blackfoot, I played a song that I hold close to the heart, and punctuates my experiences up until that day; Under The Bridge (Red Hot Chili Peppers).
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By the time I finished, they were awake, slack mouthed, and wide eyed. I did not intend for them to hear that. “We are soooo adding that” Rory yelled across the room. “You could totally use that as your solo when we take a break, bro”, Shawn added. Apparently, Keith was still looking on the floor for his mandibles, because he just sat in silence, looking at me like an alien. Reluctantly, I agreed. I might as well open up to these people, as they seem to know their shit, and I'm on cloud nine because of them. Working on the equalizer, they got me zeroed in, and ready for tomorrow's performance. Somehow, in the process, Shawn decided it was a good idea to get “all the friends” over for a dry run this evening. I guessed it was go time; after our practice that is.
Well, practice was practice. Nothing spectacular, minus me falling on my ass a couple times trying to show off, which is a feat in itself. I never show off, where did all this confidence spring from? Was it Shawn showing me life is grand, or is it the acceptance from a band I never thought I would be able to join? Either way, it was as grueling as it was yesterday, plus the added pressure of going live with the set list tonight. One thing I noticed is the apologies for giving lead for the majority of the songs to Shawn. I didn't get it. I jump into the band and took lead away from Shawn, he's the one that requires apologies, but even he didn't seem to mind. We worked, no matter who was lead. We were a group, not a leader followed by a group.
Stevie showed up first, and did the single most unexpected thing. He planted a wet one on my lips (wet dream to soon follow), and said with a wink, “Looks like Uncle Steve solves all. Did you get in his pants yet?” I think he forgot that I was still bigger than him, so I flopped him with ease. Backs and asses to the ground, I looked over and thanked him for picking up the pieces to my broken soul. “It's my ticket into Heaven, asshole”, he snickered.
We ended practice around five-ish. Stevie came around seven. Once eight-thirty came around, I thought the neighbors would call the cops based on the noise the small crowd of a hundred plus made. We could here them in the garage asking for lighters, joints, and kegs. Have these people never heard of bring your own beer? I helped Keith rig the lights up, simple led par lamps, but enough to set the atmosphere, when I here a hiss, and the smell of cotton candy. Rory decided we needed fog but didn't think it through. We were in an enclosed space, um, duh. “Places (cough, cough), quick, we have to open the door!!!” came from somewhere. Who said it I don't know. The garage door opened and what followed will probably last as my roughest crowd I'd ever have to meet. No bouncer, no stage hands, no security. Just a bunch of drunk twenty one year olds.
I've never been a member of a frat, but I think I could finally imagine how it would go. Someone calls a party at a house, and while the owner of the house is nowhere to be seen, a beer pong table is set up, barrels appear, scantly clad broads appear, and a million good looking guys (and gals, sorry ladies) just materialize out of nowhere. I'm not from that breed; I thought it was a myth. I was proven wrong. Small crowd of one hundred disturbing the neighbors? Nope. The neighbors were there with the (driveway? Nope) lawns full of people. On a Thursday, really? I think I was set up big time. I can see now these people planned on whipping the shit out of my reserved nature. For the second time, I said to hell with it, opening it up for myself and the band with a “Who Wants A SHOT ?!?!?” slamming on a riff. I swear the noise was louder than the Pop's show. This should be fun.
We opened with a Tim McGraw song, something about liking a bar, but it shut everyone up. Instant silence is awesome. Ol' Timmy happened to take up about a third of our set, but that's what was 'cool' at time. We tried not to deviate from the set, but, well, we were drinking too. By the end of the night we were playing Pantera, Iron Maiden, Ozzy, and everything under the sun. We ended the evening with my acoustic solo. Instead of the cell phones this time, I got the lighters. No clue if you've looked out and actually seen a sea of the flames, but it's...it's.... bliss. The power trip, the adrenaline, it's wicked cool. Although I hate to be a cog in the machine, I still had to plug the show. “Show of hands, who wants to see a real show tomorrow? I'll get y’all in for free.....” Everyone's hands, beers, and whatever they happened to have in their mitts at the time went in the air, “7 P.M. Meet at the park in Middletown...”
Now that the gig was up, I could relax and take the manager's advice, and find a way to “sleep in on Friday.” Walking through the crowd there was a lot of mixed comments, from “who the hell are you?” to the common groupie “Hey, you rocked man. I'm ….” It wasn't until I seen my little brother that my heart almost stopped. I hadn't seen this fool since he was knee high in the shit I was involved with almost ten years previous. Don't get me wrong, the sight of my brother was a breath of fresh air, but the memories behind the scenes always prove to be stronger. Before he choked out “Hey brotha!” I was already in tears, and making my way towards the house. Busting through the front door and sitting my ass down on the stairs, Mick, my brother, sat next to me. The newly recruited Navy man embraced me and asked me what was wrong. Me, just being me, didn't answer. He asked me if it was because Mom tossed me on my “bum”, and I quote that, because it sounded weird coming from him. Then came the part I waited years to hear, and never expected it to come from my brother that I abandoned. “I believe you Brian, Dad's not a good guy, never will be. You were nice when it all went down, I would've finished the job.”
Great, tears again. Do they ever fade, or does every good thing that happens to me have to take a toll on the past, and bring the pain to the surface? Screw it, I hadn't seen my brother in years, and the only person that was there that believes me is sitting next to me. Everyone else thinks I actually tried to murder a member of my family. It proves they didn't know me, I keep thinking. “You know Tari is here, right?”, Mick asks. Teri is my sister, I was completely unaware. I asked him if he seen the little show, and that was an “affirmative”, but apparently Teri had just pulled up at the end. Putting complete confidence in my lil' bro, I asked him not to tell her I was here, and invited him to the Middletown show the next night, and asked that he brings my sister. I missed her dearly, but I don't know how to face her, or Mick for that matter. I did try to take their father's life, and if for one second I thought I didn't succeed, I probably would have continued my attack, and I never recovered fully from that thought. It drew up a number of questions for me. My sisters never believed me, but here is the only other male in my family believing me, and I left him there with that animal.
Shawn finally found me sitting on the steps weeping silently. He didn't say a word, just grabbed my right arm with both hands, and placed his head on my shoulder. All he said was “let it go, bro.”, and I did. Someone grabbed my left hand and did the same. It wasn't until present day that I found out it was Teri. I have no clue how I ended up in bed that night, but I did. Okay, I lied, I do have a clue. I was buck naked curled up to a beautiful man again, so....
I'm coming to a near to the end of my story. I'm still drunk, still mad at my mother, but maybe my shrink knows what he's talking about. I am feeling much calmer at the moment. I'm almost in tears at the moment, scared to type the rest. These next two days prove to be the most trying days of my entire life so far. This is a story of a 'Rock Star' but you've obviously never heard of me, so there is turmoil on the horizon. Everything between the lines is a re-creation of both fact and embellished fact/fiction, only to fill in the divide. My shrink really did tell me to do this, back in May of 2011 actually, near the anniversary of the week described in this story. The story actually takes place between May 27th, 2010 – June 2nd, 2010. It's how I found GA actually. I wouldn't listen until now. After chatting with really good people, I felt the need to share my story. It's been so long since I've actually had a conversation, that it was a breath of fresh air.