2 weeks ago we were down in Florida due to our dad passing away from the virus. Got home Monday and the next day we learned that our eldest cousin, my uncle’s firstborn, passed away suddenly. A few days later my buddy Stretch called me crying because he just learned his 30 year old nephew had died. A few days later our drummer Infinito learned that his mom had died from the virus down in Bolivia. We spoke this morning, both of us crying. He’s devastated. Justifiably so.
As I type all this it seems impossible that it can all be real. Denial. I’ve been sick with various maladies for a few weeks. Saw four different doctors this week. Hard to even keep track of the different things we’re talking to the doctors about. It’s occurred to me that this physical breakdown is probably due to the impossible task of trying to mentally and emotionally integrate this bombardment of tragedy and death everywhere.
One death overshadows the one before and so on. And then you come back to that prior one. And then back to the next one and the next. An endless cycle.
What I’ve been trying to do at a minimum is stay in touch with family and friends as much as possible to communicate with and support them through this hard time. Physically I’m down for the count. I think that’s part of the process. Mentally I’m in a foggy daze. Not even aure what I feel. I know what I’m supposed to feel. But it’s too much. Too heavy.
My brother texted me earlier and just wrote “horrible times man” about all of it. There’s a part of me that wants to acknowledge that. Hard to argue with it. Another part of me wants to believe that any minute we’re going to come out of it and everything is going to be great again. And admittedly things are “great” for some people; those who haven’t been touched in any way by the virus.
Though I do believe we were all traumatized if not permanently scarred by the surreal insanity and horror of the last four years we just came out of. For many of us we weren’t around for the tragedy and chaos of the 60s or vietnam or watergate etc. These were just stories we read about years later. We didn’t fully understand the deep seated trauma those years had on society or each person individually. It really wasn’t until the last few years that we had a personal experience of it ourselves.
That kind of shock and horror. A visceral experience. The way it kept builidng, each day worse than the last, going to bed each night and waking up everyday for years terrified of what we’d hear next from the White House. The way it continued to get worse and worse and culminated in a horrific tragic and terrifying ending on January 6th.
I’d like to report that the survival of the republic as evidenced by the surreal inauguration healed all the wounds inflected. Granted it was a relief. They tried hard. They did their best. We all did. But we’ll always look back at those weeks as a swirling mess of emotions. How could we not? We had just come out of the capital riots and mass deaths were still circling our day to day lives hourly.
As valiant an attempt as the inauguration tried to be — and it had many moments, it couldn’t, and shouldn’t, dispel the shock we had and have all lived through. A part of me feels that we owe it to ourselves and to those who passed to remember. To grieve. To mourn. To contemplate. Not forever perhaps. But definitely not cut it too short.
Frankly I’m not sure I’d be able to cut it short even if I wanted to. I’m trying to do what’s right. To feel what’s right. To be respectful of the near half a million of our fellow citizens who have died this past year.
And as well to honor the anger I feel toward the pansy-assed members of the GOP who didn’t have the courage or nobility to stand up for what’s right or sacred in our democracy. I miss guys like John McCain a lot. Mitt Romney comes to mind. Thank God for him. But we need more of them. It can’t just be 5 to 10 Republicans out of tens of millions who see things straight. What’s to stop it from happening again?
I can hear friends now advising me that I’m confusing and conflating the issues. This mass explosion of death all around us with the deeply divided politics destroying us from within. But it’s hard for me not to. Both events have deeply affected us. I’ll never dismissively ignore division or coups or civil wars in other countries again, as if “it’s not my business”.
Nor will I ever again take for granted the cooperative peace and unity we enjoy in the U.S. That’s something to cherish and work on maintaining. It’s a noble goal.
In my mind i keep hearing that scene from All That Jazz play… “Death man… death man… Death is in… death is in….” If we picture the Vietnam memorial in DC, as large and foreboding as it is, we’d need ten of those to honor the fallen of just the past year. None of us are getting away from that reality unscathed. Only the coldest and most heartless among us perhaps.
Don’t get me wrong. I want to. I’m beyond overwhelmed and over it like everyone else. People are now starting to talk about the coming “roaring 20s”… I find it hard to go there still being surrounded by so many passing. It feels disrespectful.
In Tenet, people from the future are willing to destroy everyone in the past in order to save themselves in the future. Part of me feels like that’s what we’re trying to do now… Sacrificially ignoring everyone who has stacked up in the afterlife in order to move on with all of us who are “still alive”.
But that may just be part of the grieving and integration process. I get that. I think it may come down to those who have lost someone and those who haven’t. At some point we do all have to move on. If we had any hard proof of an afterlife maybe we could pick and choose… But we don’t. So the only thing we do have is our innate instinct as organic life forms to keep going, here, in life. We owe it to them I suppose. Or not. I’m torn about that theory frankly. Again, probably part of the grieving process.
I guess what it comes down to for me is this deeply rooted feeling that we need to do our absolute best to honor those who passed this past 12 months.
We didn’t do a good job of it over the last year. Due to inept leadership we ignored and denied and dishonored our dead because it wasn’t “politically convenient”. It was the greatest shared national shame I’ve ever experienced since I’ve been alive.
Luckily that’s changed. But we still have work to do. We need to acknowledge our shared loss, name them in our hearts and out loud, remember them, honor them, recognize that it’s okay that we miss them and love them and mourn for them. And then eventually, hopefully, we can all heal.
Suicide Solution
The living may not “like” it, but suicide is not necessarily “bad or “wrong”…
I
Hold on to your bootstraps because we’re going to rapid-fire this one, due to the fact that my wife has issued a personal challenge to me to finish at least one of the 22 different books I’ve started in the course of my short adventurous life. I’ve always maintained that “writing” — proper writing or authoring of proper books and such, is “something I will do when I am older”. To me it was enough to take plenty of notes on each and every book that came to me, a discipline that I’ve stuck with diligently for more than twenty years now. I do everything necessary to eventually write the book at some point. Except actually write it. I just always figured that writing was something I would fall back on once I got too old to make music for a living. But for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is the fact that making music for a living has fast become an oxymoron due to ever increasing faltering sales and revenue growth in general in the music business; it would appear that “when I’m older” time period I envisioned for the last twenty years or so may have finally arrived to the here-now.
I must admit, I mean it’s only fair, that it does seem a bit odd that some of these 22 odd books that I have completed in various stages and have up to 400 or more pages typed within them — (thousands in the case of The Adventures of Fishy series…) and I have still yet to complete or release one of them. THIS is what so confounds my wife. And I can totally understand her frustration. Especially since I still find time to write in these here Transcendence Diaries on a regular basis. Ahhhh, I’d be a very rich man indeed if I had a nickel for every time over the last year or two Princess Little Tree has said to me “if you would just write the exact same number of pages in one or more of your books as you write in your Diaries every week, then you’d be finished with half the books already! Maybe all of them! So just get to it boy!” And i fully admit that I see the logic in that.
Though you’ve heard me say this before… I don’t just enjoy writing the Transcendence Diaries. I need to write them. There’s something very therapeutic about the process for me. Yes it’s occurred to me more than once that there is probably a lot more money in finishing small to medium sized books than there are in these Diaries… (the fact is there is very little to no money to be made in a blog — especially the kind of non-commercial, not-sponsored one that I demand to run). It’s also occurred to me that there may be something of an “instant gratification fix” to these Diaries that I wouldn’t necessarily be able to obtain from finishing a book. After all, I am able to write these entries in ONE sitting, anywhere from 500 to 5,000 words, and release it all in one go of it. From thought to expression in a matter of minutes to hours. One fulfilling mental and emotional release. No need to ever go back and review or edit or amend. And certainly no concern for readability or demographics or target audience or the potential for publication or other mass consumption worries. It’s a very selfish endeavor, I admit. But again… it’s MY endeavor. And in years or decades from now, when they look back and say “you know there wasn’t one damned thing he DIDN’T write about in all those years in those damn Diaries?!” my ghost, wherever it shall be, will surely be smiling. Maintaining these Transcendence Diaries over the last 13 years has been a thoroughly satisfying process.
But alas it is true. I have promised to complete at least one or more of the books this summer. So I am trying my best to refrain from coming here to whittle away the hours in self obsession. But sometimes I just have to. Right this very minute is one of those moments. And I’ll tell you why.
II
Over the last few days the world of social media has lit up in a way that we have NEVER seen before. It could be because of the subject matter — namely the death of Robin Williams, OR it could just be that we are presently peaking in the social media aspect of the Personal Expression Age. My guess is that it’s a little bit of both. But for whatever reason, social media is abuzz with posts and articles related in one way or another to Robin Williams and his alleged “suicide”. Today I was studying a graph that showed that there were over 5,000 articles a day being released online in the United States related to Robin Williams on Tuesday and Wednesday. That figure has calmed down over the last 48 hours. To a mere 2,000 or so. Still an amazing quantity of information and opinion being created over one subject.
For me personally the most heinous aspect — and there have been many — of this phenomenon has been the number of people who have felt compelled to come on one platform or another and bitch about how “selfish or cowardly Robin Williams is for committing suicide”. I know I know… People don’t have anything better to do, and God bless them for having a platform to express their emotions. Lord only knows how these impassioned feelings would be expressed if it weren’t for social media. Things could be a lot worse. People are FEELING a lot right now and need to get it out. People just want to have a voice.
After all, THIS is exactly what the Personal Expression Age is all about — giving people a voice who never have had one historically and would normally never have one. Lord knows I appreciate that aspect of the Age. I think it’s more than healthy. For ALL of us. Especially for those who would otherwise be victims of those who can’t find any other vehicle for their emotional need to vent. But this one meme, the idea of Williams somehow being wrong or bad or irresponsible or at fault because he decided to choose suicide is really rubbing me the wrong way. For several different reasons, not just one.
Before we go there though, let us first just collectively vent how annoying this new fad of coming onto social media and giving speeches about depression and addiction has become. My God. What an obnoxious craze this is. As if all of a sudden, literally overnight, everybody and their brother is an expert in mental health. I think we can all agree that engaging in an intelligent discourse about depression is healthy for the country and for our species in general. God knows we’ve hit some bumps in the road with it in the past. Remember that whole Tom Cruise and Brooke Shields fiasco a few years ago? But this has gotten way out of hand. All of a sudden everyone is an expert on depression. Shooting out hotline numbers and even their own cell phone numbers, saying things like “I promise I’ll take your call and get you through the night to the next day.” I’m not making this up. I’ve read this more than once. If you’re alive and breathing, surely you too have been reading the same type of posts or similar ones.
Besides just being generally annoying, can we step back for a moment and acknowledge that we don’t even know the real story yet regarding how Williams died? Sure his wife and publicist ran for the throttle in order to control how the story was going to be told. Whose family wouldn’t? Especially when dealing with a franchise as large and profitable as Williams’ is. So they’ve got the whole world discussing “depression” before we even have ample evidence of HOW he died. Yes they claim it was “suicide”… But considering the other options, as non-preferable as suicide is, it surely seems the better option. Better than “he was really high and just screwing around” or “accidental asphyxiation” or “accidental death due to drug overdose”. All of which are perfectly legitimate options still. The truth is we just won’t know until the whole story comes out. And that’s IF and WHEN the whole story comes out, IF it ever does.
Another question that comes to mind is this one: Where the hell was Williams’ wife during those 14 hours that he was allegedly alone in the house? She immediately posted that she lost her “husband and best friend” after his death was announced, and we know that he was in rehab at the time for possibly regressing back to “using”; so what kind of wife or “best friend” goes to bed at 10 PM, wakes up in the morning and leaves the house to “run errands” without first checking in on her husband who’s STILL IN rehab for substance abuse? Especially if they’re “best friends”? And especially if he “was suffering from severe depression” as she is so wanting to make sure the public is aware of?
I must admit that I personally have had a tough time with just the story that she “went to bed in another room and left Williams by himself in his office at 10 PM”. Even that seems strange for a married couple. Especially when one of them is so apparently “sick”. And especially if they are “best friends”. I know my wife and I have never encountered that scenario in all our years of marriage. If I ever regressed in my staying off of drugs you better believe that there isn’t a chance in hell that Princess Little Tree would ever leave me alone in my office at 10 o’clock at night and go to bed without making sure that I came to bed with her. And let’s say that they had some sort of altercation or argument in that moment, as some have suggested — she was mad and went to bed by herself alone and hurt, one would think that she would still come straight to his room in the morning just to see what he was doing or how he was doing, considering that he was officially checked into a rehab facility at the time. ESPECIALLY if he was “severely depressed” as she claims.
Frankly the whole story just doesn’t vibe. Now that we have had some time to recover from the shock of it all, the pieces of the puzzle just aren’t adding up. But eventually I am sure we will learn what really happened. Like many, I personally am not expecting a clean toxicology report. In fact, I admit that I believe that part of me is maybe even HOPING for some substances to be in his body just to make sense of the whole thing… I assume this is just denial on my part. A hidden desire to not believe that Williams was THAT depressed and THAT discouraged… to have gone THAT far. Suicide seems so drastic major and final.
The whole affair seems a bit like Williams’ wife and publicist got together very quickly over the phone to strategically plan HOW they would spin the discussion around his death. And to be fair, they’ve done’ a fantastic job of it so far. The whole country is busy talking about “depression” instead of any of the other details regarding the case like where SHE was, or more importantly where she wasn’t; and why the hell was Williams found in such a strange position? Seated but with a belt around his neck for God’s sake? And we’re supposed to believe this was a suicide? But he was seated?
One would think that if he really intended suicide that he would have implemented a more elegant way to do it, especially someone of his wealth. He could have easily obtained — most likely already had in his possession — plenty of pharmaceuticals to do the trick in a much cleaner manner. IF this was deliberate. So why the belt around the neck? Seated in a chair? Seriously? Suicide? I don’t know… Just seems a bit sketchy. Suicides for people in Williams’ position are usually of the cleaner more elegant pharmaceutical kind. A belt around the neck sounds more like what you me and everyone else doesn’t care to admit: that he was high, got a little screwed up in the head, was just fucking around and next thing you know he stopped breathing and didn’t know it.
But even if it WAS that, how and why would we love the man any less? That’s what gets me about all these self righteous know it alls popping up all of a sudden making all these claims that they suddenly dislike Williams because of how he died. Fucking a talk about fair weather friends. If you WERE a fan, then why not be a FAN now? What’s the difference? Whether he did it on purpose or he was just fucking around and killed himself by accident, either way it’s sad if you’re a fan or even just a compassionate human being.
Let us say that we believe the current narrative. Just out of respect for the deceased if for no other reason. What the hell is wrong with these people coming on social media saying that they “don’t respect Robin Williams anymore” or “will never look at him the same way now” or “his legacy will always be tainted now in my book”. These are all direct quotes of things I’ve read online over the last 48 hours from various people. Some more than others are writing lengthy rants about how deathly tragic the situation is AND at the same time demonizing Williams for choosing to commit suicide. They’ve fallen for the story hook line and sinker AND have now taken to being judge and jury about the ethical and criminal nature of suicide, some calling it “cowardly”, others calling it “the most selfish act someone can take”, and still others claiming that “murder is a crime, so isn’t it just as criminal to kill one’s self?” I am not making this up. Human beings continue to amaze with their short-sightedness, ignorance and arrogance.
Before we go demonizing Robin Williams for “choosing” suicide, we need to first be sure that that’s what happened. But let’s say that we just assume it is, out of respect for him and his family… IF that’s truly what transpired, shouldn’t we examine the finer points of the matter of suicide first? Before we go casting judgment?
Number one, since when did we collectively decide that LIFE, or being alive here in this form on planet earth, was the end-all be-all BEST option for everyone? You may have to step back for this one, but think about it: WE the living only know life, so we choose to believe that “life” is the best of all possible worlds for ourselves and everyone else. But do we really KNOW this for sure? That “life” in this form is the best of all possible options?
If we can all admit that we have no idea what else may possibly lay on the other side of death…. then perhaps everyone would quiet down and contemplate more how Williams and plenty of others were feeling at the time of their “suicide”…. Perhaps they were thinking that life on the other side might be better than it is here. We really don’t know without a suicide note of some kind. We can only guess. And at best we can give the person at least a wee bit of the benefit of the doubt.
Let’s be honest, almost everyone claims to believe in some kind of an “afterlife”. Most people choose to believe in a GOOD afterlife of some kind in fact, something akin to “heaven” or nirvana or “union with God or The Divine” usually. So the question is, what would be so bad about that? What would be so bad about a person choosing to go to heaven a few years early if that’s what they so decide?
Even if someone doesn’t believe in heaven but instead believes in an afterlife comprised of some kind of a spirit world, or an afterlife as a waiting station for reincarnation… all of these different options still present a relatively healthy alternative to suffering here on earth. IF we’re to assume that Williams really committed suicide, then we are to assume he did it for a good reason.
(Unless he was just really fucked up and not thinking straight. Now I know… Plenty of people have been writing long blog posts and articles and status updates about how “irrational people get when they are plagued with the disease of depression” And that may be so. Lord knows I’ve had my share of severe battles with depression through the years. It’s a horrible monster. As if our own mind is our enemy — because no matter what we are doing or what we take, we just always feel “sad” or worthless or devastated or discouraged…. as if life is unbearable and we’d be happier dead than alive. Yep. Been there. More than once. I get it. But let’s give the guy some credit. He was working. He was functional. He was just at an art gallery exhibit the day before hobnobbing with the locals. If he made the decision to commit suicide — which again, is a big IF, who are we to say that he’s irresponsible, selfish, or even “wrong” in his decision? We just can’t. Because we aren’t HIM.)
The truth is we have NO idea what lay on the other side of “death”. So all we’re really doing is lamenting the fact that the person is “not here for us” any longer. THAT’S what’s really going on. We aren’t sad for those we lost to suicide. We’re sad for ourselves. We believe that what they did is “wrong”, one, because we are going to miss them — they cut their own life short and therefore cut the time WE will have with them short, and two, because of the stigma attached to suicide. People still judge suicide to be bad or wrong or sinful in some way. So they often judge people who commit suicide in a negative light. And so too the loved ones who are left behind. As if they have to live in a nasty world for the rest of their lives where everyone is talking about them behind their backs. But truth be told this is ONLY because we are pretending that because we are ALIVE that being alive is the best of all possible worlds, totally forgetting to consider that death may be not only a viable option for some — someone who is terminally ill or in pain for example, but might even be a better place than being HERE NOW. WE just don’t know. Someone who commits suicide –depending on their belief system or religious faith tradition — may hold a belief that life after death may be a groovier place than life here on earth. They may believe that their soul disconnects from their body and floats off to “be with God” for an eternity. And being that beliefs create experience, who are WE to deny them that reality? Just because WE may not believe that? I call bullshit.
In terms of suicide being cowardly, says who? For some it may seem cowardly… IF they are coming from the viewpoint that “life is hard yeah sometimes it really sucks but you just HAVE TO endure it no matter what and if you don’t then you’re a pussy” I suppose. But really…. says who? That may be one person’s viewpoint, but it certainly isn’t everyone else’s. And to assume so is just yet another example of the short-sighted arrogance of many human beings currently walking the planet making life unbearable for the rest of us because they are constantly assuming THEIR viewpoint is the only one and should apply to every one else. Someone else may consider suicide to be the bravest thing one can ever fathom doing. Frankly I have always tended to lean in this direction, personally feeling that suicide would be a terribly frightening thing to do; I would be way too scared myself to commit suicide. It sounds extremely frightening to me. And therefore I do not see how a person would be cowardly to do it. I am unsure as to how someone else could possibly label another person a coward for doing it. It is obviously a major life decision, and like most major life decisions there doesn’t seem to be anything cowardly about it.
Now I know that many of the people who are labeling suicide “cowardly” are doing so because they are self-described atheists. It isn’t the absence of a God or creator that is operating here as much as an absence of belief in any kind of afterlife. To them, suicide literally means “the end of it all”, as in nothing left, it’s over, the person is gone forever. They hold a view that after life there is literally “nothingness” or “just ashes” once one passes from these mortal coils. And yes we must acknowledge that there are plenty of people who now who hold this belief to be true. They ONLY believe in THIS life and that’s it. Which is perfectly acceptable if that’s what serves THEM. It just doesn’t mean that it applies to others. Human consciousness is large enough to encompass ALL possible beliefs that human beings can come up with. And even more. ALL of them have the potential to be “true” and possible. The truth is that we just don’t know yet WHAT lies beyond human consciousness once the body ceases to exist. But to those who choose to wholeheartedly subscribe to this idea that they definitely KNOW that NOTHING exists beyond human consciousness in a body, yes, one can see that to take one’s life through suicide may seem cowardly — as it’s a final act that literally leads to “nothingness”. It’s as if it’s “an easy way out” because once you make that final decision and have breathed your last breath, that’s it, the whole kit and caboodle is over. No more pain, no more responsibility, no more struggle or heartache or depression.
But here’s the deal: SO WHAT? So what if that’s what a person decides is best for them? Who are we to declare that they’ve made the wrong decision? After all it’s THEIR life, is it not? Again, I get the feeling that the primary motivating force for those holding this viewpoint is that THEY want the person to stay alive for THEM — regardless of how much struggle or pain or heartache this person may be going through or enduring. They don’t care. They just feel that this other person — the one in pain — owes it to them to stay alive and endure anything and everything just so they can be there for THEM. So in reality it is really the person wanting the person to hang on that is being selfish; NOT the person wanting to commit suicide. They’re thrusting their own views about life onto others because they desire certain people to “stay alive” for THEIR sakes and for THEIR pleasure or happiness, and they’ll do and say anything to try to do this. They’ll tell the person “life is a precious gift” or “you owe it to the ones you love to stay alive as long as you can” etc etc. But these are all just stories, myths, fabrications all in the name of attempting to keep another person alive so YOU can get out of them whatever it is that you believe you’re getting out of them. You’re not really thinking about the other person or what is best for THEM. You’re making their life all about YOU.
So much for the argument that “suicide is the most selfish act a person can make”. Hey maybe it is. It’s certainly major and final. That’s for sure. But if there’s one thing we learn along the path of life out of all the myriad lessons obtained it is that only WE are ultimately responsible for ourselves. No one else is going to be there for us the way that we are. No one else is going to help us as much as we are going to need and have to. No one is going to be there for us as loyally as we are. And NO ONE is going to feel our pain or our struggle as much as we are. It is true, we DON’T have a choice in being born or not. It’s something that is thrown at us indiscriminately without our say in the matter. Then as we’re growing up everyone around us is constantly saying things like “life is such a blessing”, “we should feel so blessed to have the gift of life”…. When in reality, for some, for many millions and millions of people being born all over the world every minute of every day, life is pure hell from the moment they are born till the moment they breathe their last breath of relief.
We have no choice in being born into this life; we try our best to make it enjoyable, or for many just “bearable”. That doesn’t sound like a gift or a blessing to me. It sounds like what it really is. Random obligation of necessity. A spin of the wheel and out we pop and we are expected to not only do well at it, but to enjoy it and even consider it “a blessing”. It’s funny when you start to look at life more realistically. It ain’t as black and white as everyone would like.
With the fact that we had no choice in being born in the first place, no choice in who our family is, or where we grow up or who we grow up with, the one thing we SHOULD have a choice in is when and how we die. And one thing we DO know is that we have fought very hard over the centuries to secure for ourselves a certain level of freedom and liberty. At the very least each of us should be permitted the freedom and liberty to decide what WE want to do with OUR life, or our death to be more exact. That should be one of the most basic freedoms of any “free” society. And in many countries it is. This whole idea that “taking someone else’s life is murder and illegal, so why shouldn’t taking one’s own life be considered murder and be illegal” is a ridiculous non-sequitor. It’s completely illogical. So that shouldn’t even be something being discussed. And it is true that only the greatest of fools are saying it. Suicide is frowned upon in society because it seems to go against our most basic primordial survival instincts. But we aren’t animals struggling in the jungle to keep the species alive anymore. We’ve evolved. We’ve transcended mere survival. In fact one could easily argue that we have evolved to a state at this point that transcends “survival” being priority number one. Perhaps self determinism is priority number one now at this stage in our evolution as a species. And rule numero uno of self determinism surely is the freedom to decide is we want to be alive or not and for how long.
Granted, it IS terribly sad for those left behind. That’s a given. It’s downright tragic for them. But see, our presence here is a GIFT to those around us — IF we’re so blessed to have people around us who care for us that much, but it’s NOT a guarantee. Our presence here is not guaranteed and it certainly isn’t meant to be forever. The truth is there’s just no guarantee about anything regarding our lives here, nor the lives of others. So any amount of time we have to spend with those we love is a gift and a blessing. And if one day one of us decides that we are thoroughly finished with being alive here in this form and on this planet, so be it. That’s a decision that only we can decide for ourselves, each of us on our own, in our own way and in our own time.
The idea of Living Wills as an example address this issue squarely and directly. The basic idea of them is that while we’re alive and healthy and fully cognizant we create a Living Will that states what our loved ones should do with us in case we should ever become physically or mentally incapacitated; whether or not we should be placed on life support and for how long etc. These are decisions that are regularly suggested by medical doctors for everyone of sound mind and body to make AND to put it in writing. So if a person does get into an accident and tragically gets put into a vegetative state mentally or is unable to move or function physically, it is THEY who make the decision whether or not they are left for years on a hospital bed hooked up to a bunch of wires and machines, OR if the plugs are pulled and they are left to pass away quickly and quietly in a more natural manner. Everyone in civilized societies across the globe agrees that this is the “right thing to do”. (Whether or not it is, I cant say for sure. I can see arguments for both sides equally. But that isn’t the point.) The fact of the matter is that we have already reached this state of civilized self realization and self determinism. Good.
So why shouldn’t that same person, being of sound mind and body, be able to make that decision in cases where they are NOT in a coma or a vegetative state? Let us say that in the case of Robin Williams that he was just overtly depressed — and again we have no proof of this yet… or, as his wife now implies, that he “recently learned that he had Parkinsons Disease” and THAT was the reason that he decided to end his life early… again we just don’t know for sure — but let us say that he just decided that he didn’t want to live like that anymore… Should that decision of whether or not he lives be up to us? Or up to his family? Or up to him? I’d submit that every time no matter how many times the question is posed that that decision should solely and wholly be HIS decision and no one else’s to make. And the same for every and any one else in the world we live in.
I’m as shocked and saddened by Robin Williams’ death and the WAY in which he went as anyone else. In fact I have been surprised by how hard the news was for me, and the after shock. But I am certainly not feeling any negative feelings towards the man. Not labeling him irresponsible or selfish or cowardly or weak or anything else of that nature. If anything I remain intrigued by the details surrounding the event and especially concerning his decision IF it turns out that that’s what really happened. I am curious as to what he’s presently experiencing, if anything. Did he get to meet the Big Man or the Divine Mother? Did he turn into an angel and is currently floating around the earthly realm caring for those in need and making other angels laugh in hysterics with his latest impersonation of the Archangel Gabriel? If he burning in hell as punishment for taking his own life as the Catholics propose? Is he laying in wait in some strange state of limbo or Purgatory? Or has he already reincarnated and is celebrating his one month old birthday in Korea or Paraguay or Zimbabwe? If so, is he funny? Is he even human? Or is he a cow or a dog or a fruit fly? We don’t know. Truth is, we have no freaking clue. For all we know he could just be dead, done, finished, over, mission complete. Regardless of what happened to the man or where he is or isn’t, that isn’t our business, but only his. And that is what we call a truly free democratic point of view. People need to step off their soap boxes and back away from their homemade pulpits and just allow the man and his work to breathe a little. He gave us so much for so long. That’s the least that we can do in return.
Yours truly, sincerely and very much still alive,
Fishy,
AKA The Ambassador,
AKA Ed Hale
xoxoxoxo
Celebrating Robin Williams
By now the world is just waking up to the reality that comedian, actor and humanitarian Robin Williams has passed away. This one is going to be a sad one. This feels almost unspeakable. Continued shock… and more sadness. A real mind blower. Smack dab in the middle of all this mess, he decides to leave us? Now? We Americans are going to take it the worst. He was one of us, one of our own, one of our finest exports to the world. He started out as a rough and tumble comedian, trash talking a mile a minute, a big mass of hair and sweat. He was by all accounts a mess. But we loved him for it. Yes indeed he was raunchy in his early days, as some people have pointed out; in fact, truth be told, when we were kids we weren’t “allowed” to watch Robin Williams when he came on TV by our parents. So unlike many of my peers I don’t have a recollection of Mork and Mindy, and certainly not Happy Days…. Our puritanical Christian upbringing and all. But on the occasion when our parents were out, we would sneak a peak at him up there on the stage, doing stand up, acting all wild and crazy, cracking himself up, going a million miles an hour, a real coke hound obviously; even as kids we could tell that this guy was on something, that there was something just not right there, but he was sooooo freaking funny.
He’d get going and not be able to stop himself, even when he was supposed to, even when he wanted to; he couldn’t help it. Something else would pop into his brain and pop out of his mouth. Again and again and again. Those late 70s, early 80s stand up routines of his… nothing like them. He invented that style. That manic hyper coked up genius routine was his. He invented it. Yeah sure a ton of other characters soon came on the New York comedy scene doing a similar schtick, but everyone knew who started it. Robin Williams. He went to the outermost edges, had you pissing yourself, and then he went beyond, and then beyond again, creating a routine and a style that was so singular and extreme that he enabled cats like Richard Belzer and Stephen Wright to invent a completely different style just by leaning to the opposite side. That was just one of the hallmarks of his genius. But that put a lot of pressure on Robin. You could see it in his eyes when he would be up there, especially with Billy and Whoopy. The pressure to be that good, to be HIM. Sure, they were his peers, supposed stars in their own right…. But everyone knew, everyone just accepted that Robin was special; he wasn’t just a star; he was a constellation, he was fireworks. He was a magician, a spitfire, a sherman tank, a civil war.
And then something miraculous happened. Somebody got the craziest idea: cast Robin Williams in a Hollywood movie. But not a comedy. Throw him in a drama. Something sad and tragic and heartbreaking. Because we all know that comedians, real comedians at least, are just manic depressives playing out their manic side. So they know tragedy better than anyone. That’s what makes them so damn funny. They’re not just cracking jokes. They’re on some kind of an unnatural neurological bender in the moment, ready to crack at any second; but for God’s sake get it on camera man! They’re attempting to do battle with the dragon of despair that haunts us all, but they’re doing it in real time, in the public eye, unabashedly brazenly brave and stupid at the same time. They’re fighting for their very sanity in those moments, for their survival. If you can control them long enough to get them to act in a movie of some kind, a good movie… forget about it. They’re going to blow you away. Because no one understands sadness and loss better than a comic. And blow us away Robin Williams did. From his first to his last, Moscow on the Hudson to The Angriest Man in Brooklyn, Robin Williams epitomized the everyday man fighting against the tragedy of truth and humanity. Dead Poets Society, Good Will Hunting, Good Morning Vietnam. This is all off the top of my head mind you. No googling necessary. Because THAT’s how good the man was. If Robin Williams was in a movie, you knew it was going to be not just good, but that it had the potential to be fucking great. He was one of the few actors of his generation who could give you a guarantee like that.
But why? How? Because Robin Williams wasn’t acting. Anyone who worked with him will tell you that; it’s the same thing over and over. He wasn’t reading lines. He could get underneath the skin of and inside the bones of just about any human (or not so human) character and embody them. Because he truly understood the bare naked truth of it all: that at our essence we are all the same inside. That was another aspect of his gift. He was madness and mayhem personified, sure; but he was also one hell of a perceptive philosopher and observer of humanity who just happened to be able to disguise it well beneath all those jokes.
He understood that madness and mayhem of the human condition, because let’s face it: life on earth is a terribly complex and perplexing ball of dichotomy and confusion; it’s a fucked up scene on the verge of exploding into total chaos at any minute where everyone is on their best behavior pretending to be cool about that. It’s one giant anomalous contradiction where everyone pretends to believe they know what’s going on even though deep inside they’re just as panicked as the next guy when they allow themselves for a moment to realize that they have no freaking clue what’s really going on. But see… only certain people see and know this. A lot of people don’t even recognize this about life; they do their best to just get along and that’s that. But other people, they see through all the pretense and bullshit. They’ve faced the devil of uncertainty that comes from knowing too much and ends at “we have no idea what’s really going on do we?” and they’ve survived. And to a certain degree, that’s their curse. Hell, we openly call it “the curse”. It’s an inside joke. It’s also a deep source of unbearable pain to many, because the joke is on us: for whatever reason, no matter how far we push it, no matter how far off the deep end we travel, tempt fate or tease God, we stay alive for some reason. God in his mysterious and humorous style keeps us alive. At least for a while. Long enough to go bonkers and bananas a few dozen times. In the process some of us produce some incredible works, as Robin did. So when his wife exclaims “I hope we take this time to just reflect on his amazing life and talent…” that’s really the thing, his life and work. The how and why of his death is going to be history long before we are finished discussing his amazing body of work.
But yeah we knew, we saw this coming for years, decades; we knew it cost him a lot, to reach that kind of a manic place, day after day and night after night… God knows it both does come easy and doesn’t necessarily come naturally “all the time”… that kind of manic hyperspeeding style of thought and expression that he brought. So the news is not surprising…. It’s sad. As with Philip Seymour Hoffman before, we are deeply saddened by the news, but not surprised. We knew he was battling, for years, had been battling for a long time… part of me really felt like he had kicked it this time, found some kind of inner peace, with his returning to TV and everything… He could be closer to home more often… Or so we told ourselves. We heard about the rehabs and the clinics… Lord knows we’ve all been there ourselves, time and time again…. Sanctuaries for the “insane who are too sane”.
That kind of knowing is hard; that kind of unity with the human spirit. I have a friend right now who’s all over social media posting all this stuff about “addicts” — in reference to Robin’s death. That’s amazingly sad and pathetic. You can tell he really wants to summarize the whole kit and caboodle of this man’s life through that tiny lens. But what he doesn’t realize — or perhaps does realize and just refuses to accept — is that this kind of thing has nothing to do with a person being “an addict” or not. It’s the other way around. The addiction is the symptom of the problem, ONE of the symptoms, but it’s not the problem. People “use” because there’s something messed up in there; something not quite right. Hell, it’s the spark that makes people laugh and cry and be so moved by their work in the first place. Who else acts like that? Except the insane? What most don’t realize is that it’s also a source of great suffering for the person doing the entertaining. WE know it; WE talk about it amongst ourselves; WE confide and cry in the confines of the loving arms of our spouses or the offices of our rabbis and pastors and psychiatrists; and we even try to tell other people about it. About “how hard it is in there”. And drugs do seem to make it better. They really do. Trust me when I say that it’s no coincidence, this drug thing. It’s not like we were all born the same year and grew up in the same small town…. If you get my meaning…. We have absolutely NOTHING in common…. and yet, there’s this something else that we do seem to have in common there that has nothing to do with where we were born or who raised us or anything like that. It’s something deeper, much closer and more primal. It’s a life or death thing. It’s a secretly putting on your underwear backwards when no one’s looking thing.
The depression, the knowing, the drama and trauma of it all, the unenviable burden of being more connected than usual, more than one should be, more than is healthy, is the source of the whole drug thing for 99% of us. Every now and then you’ll find someone who “just likes to have a good time” and that’s why they got into drugs. But they’re not the norm. They’re the exception. Most of the time, for most of those who are doing battle with that particular demon, drugs were a very early add-on in life, a survival tool, a natural inclination to reach for something, a coping mechanism, a means to an end, the cure that no one believes you deserve. And living without drugs can sometimes feel like hell on earth. Never quite normal. And no, there’s no way one can convince another of what it’s like if they don’t have that experience themselves. They just don’t get it. Though some do try and God bless them for that. For whatever reason — and we don’t know yet — Robin either gave up on or lost the battle. Drugs or no drugs. Only time and more data will tell. But he left us too soon. 63 is far too young for a star that bright to burn out.
Yes? And yet maybe not yes. Hell, he probably gave us twice as much as he thought he was ever going to. And that brings a smile to my face. Thinking of him making it for that long…. People like that NEVER expect to live that long. And only those of us who know this can really know this. I never say these words out loud now anymore, because I said it once and the thought was so shocking and sad to my wife that she burst into tears in disbelief, and yet she knew…. she could tell… but she didn’t want to know…. she didn’t want it to be true…. but there are those moments when a look gets by on your face…. and you can see that she sees…. I could just tell that it was better for me not to ever utter it again. Instead we just pretend that all is normal. And I suspect that Robin and his family were doing the same.
The one solace we can take in this passing away of Robin Williams so suddenly, on a fucking Monday no less — talk about a prankster! — is that at least his battle is thru, the ups and downs, the back and forths, the pretending to be happy when you’re clean but you’re really aching inside… trying yet again to “take it one day at a time”. I don’t think anyone can say “oh well he’s in a better place now”, but what we can say is at least he’s not suffering anymore. That part is over. And we…. we were lucky enough to get 35 years out of the man and his amazing talent. That’s something. It was a gift to the entire world that was lucky enough to experience him in one way or another.
Here’s to hoping that his soul really is now resting in peace. Or better yet, perhaps he’s right this very minute making the Creator crack up and bend over howling with laughter. We of course have no way of knowing. But we do know that he was one hell of a talent. Way more talented than a mere comic and ten times more talented than 99% of the people who call themselves “actors”. He was the real thing. He had it all. And we loved him for it. This one is going to be a sad one.
RIP Coney Island Baby Lou Reed
Today’s entry was going to be about Israel. About the not so holy land. I’d already written a lot of it. But due to extenuating circumstances, grueling and devastating circumstances for some us, that one is going to be postponed at least until tomorrow. For we’ve just found out that Lou Reed, yes that Lou Reed… has passed away into the great unknown. This one’s for him. For those that know me, or know of me, it’s a given fact that Lou was my biggest musical influence. Princess Little Tree and I have spent countless hours laughing at the fact that every time I release a new album and do the usual hundred or so interviews with the press to promote it — which now usually come in the form of emails that I dictate and she types out and sends back, there is ALWAYS that SAME question: “Who are your five or six biggest influences on your own music?” Without fail that question shows up. And time and time again I answer that question the same. Bowie, Lou Reed, Donovan, Marc Bolan, John Lennon, Paul, George, Bruce, Joni…. Etc.
I never care that most people don’t know who some of those people are. It just is what it is. You can’t listen to me without hearing Lou and Marc and David if you know their music. And I have no idea why that is except to think that that shit just washes over you and then seeps under your skin, gets inside of you and stays there forever… Becomes a part of you.
So it’s finally happened. We’ve lost one of the BIG ones. One of the REAL greats. No we’re not talking about Michael Jackson or Whitney Houston et al. Sure those artists have a place, somewhere, in the bastions of music I suppose… just not rock and roll. And certainly nothing to do with me. We’re talking about Lou. Yes, THAT Lou. My Lou. Our Lou. Lou Reed. The guy that when you tell people he’s your biggest influence they ask “Who’s that? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him…” which leads slowly down the path to help explain why artists like me, and Lou, have never reached the highest heights obtainable for musical artists. Because most people have never heard of him. Or me. You always have to follow his name with “You know, that song “Hey babe/take a walk on the wild side…?” And then they’re like “Oh yeah I’ve heard that song. Was he a one hit wonder or something?” And of course that’s a very loaded and telling question that speaks tons about contemporary music, and art in general, in the modern world; for what IS a one hit wonder? Most of them are some of the greatest artists to ever burst out of the human genetic tree. But they just aren’t pedestrian enough to achieve massive fame with the unwashed working class masses. Which in a way is grace and glory and in another way is a deeply sad tragedy.
I’ve told this story before. But if there’s one place where it belongs, in perpetuity, it’s here in the Transcendence Diaries. For without Lou Reed there would be no Ed Hale and thus no Fishy, no Transcendence and no Transcendence Diaries. By all accounts I lucked out. I got signed and had my first album come out when I was 17 years old. What is now commonly called The Eddie Album. Yeah me and Beav were psyched. We’d waited for that moment since we were little kids. We knew I’d get signed. Knew I’d release albums all my life. Knew I’d be a rock star. It was a given. But then something that I’ll never forget happened. Something that I for whatever reason believe changed the trajectory of my life and career forever.
Beav and I were sitting on the floor of my bedroom. We were smoking out, pretty high. I was home on break from college. We were talking about big dreams. Our local paper in Pine Ridge had just run a big cover story on me. We were so freaking happy. All our friends were there. It was a scene. I was talking about how big I was gonna be. Bigger than Elvis. Like all kids do I suppose… And then Beav, as he always does, just out of the blue, after minutes of not saying anything — so when he does speak, everyone goes quiet and listens — he says “Nah dude…” he glances down and takes a drag from his cigarette “you’re not gonna be big like that bro…”
“What are you talking about man? Of course I am!” I protest.
“Nah man. What would be cooler is if you were more like Lou man. More underground. More cool. More intelligent. You don’t want to be a sell-out bro. And let’s face it. You’re not really like the kind of artists that make it big bro. You’re short and ugly as hell and you’ve got that giant schnoz of yours…” Everyone starts laughing. But I continue to protest… though I knew he was just ribbing me. I also knew there was some truth to what he was saying.
“What about Prince? HE’S a real artist and HE’S super big!” I exclaim.
“Yeah man but dude… You’re not like Prince. I mean… You don’t dance and sing like that. You’re more like Lou than anyone… Or Marc Bolan…. You’re underground. You’re an acquired taste dude.”
I never thought that Beav even thought about me or my music… let alone had such insight to what I really sounded like or would come off like to millions of people… Especially not when we were still kids… But I thought about it… I went silent… I just sat there thinking about it. I mean, hell, he was right…. Most of the artists that I grew up loving were already dead or dying or at least 30 years in the past and they were all pretty underground… I never listened to contemporary music when it was contemporary. I shunned it for older cooler stuff. For the exact opposite of superstars. Marc Bolan (T. Rex for those of you who don’t know who Marc is. “Bang a Gong” for those of you who don’t know who T. Rex is…), Donovan, Lou Reed, David Bowie, Iggy Pop….
Sure I was a Beatles fan and as a kid with The Toad and Stu Guru we would daydream about being as big as the Beatles like all young up and coming musicians do. But my tastes ran way deeper and more eclectic than just the Beatles. The Beatles days were when I was a kid. As I grew older I began looking for things that were much more intelligent and eccentric than anything the Beatles ever offered. And as an artist on my own, I quickly began to diverge off the commercial path before my second album even came out. Which of course led to it never coming out because it wasn’t “commercial enough”.
But this isn’t about me. This is about Lou. Who died today. Yesterday Beav texted me a batch of Lou lyrics. Just yesterday. Little Beav texted me almost ALL the lyrics to Lou’s song “Trade In” from his Twilight Reeling album. See. That’s what most people aren’t going to understand. That’s why I’ll avoid social media like the plague for the next few days. Because now that Lou is dead all the pretenders will come out talking about how great they thought Lou Reed was, but they’ll be full of shit. They might know a song or two but they didn’t love the guy. They usually made fun of him. “Oh that guy who always talks instead of sings his songs…” You know who the Lou Reed fans are. Beav just texted me twenty freaking lines of Lou Reed lyrics because he LOVED Lou. For real loved him. As we all did and do who really knew him and loved him. We didn’t care that he lost his singing voice thirty years ago. We still went and saw him live because we wanted to be in his presence and we wanted to support him. Let the pretenders be damned. In fact, standby; I’m going to post something on social media now to all the wannabes who might dare take advantage of Lou’s death for their own selfish glory. I’ll be right back.
Okay I’m back. Had to do that. Social media is awash with these catfishing self-serving whores who will take advantage of any event to get some attention for themselves. One of the things I loath about it. Though for the most part, I am one of the big fans of social media obviously. On certain days though…. Today, wow. The more it hits me the sadder I get. I am starting to feel that deep sadness, the kind that is there when you are crying uncontrollably. It still hasn’t completely hit me yet. I just cannot get it through my head…. that Lou is really gone. Yes, I was lucky enough to meet Lou a few times. I can’t claim that we were friends. Not many can. Tony can. He actually had ben doing tai chi with Lou a lot over the last few years. So for him and for David (Bowie) I am truly truly sorry. I know they must really be feeling it, maybe even more than I; because they were close to Lou as a person. I was more just close to Lou as an artist. Is there a difference in our grief? in the feeling of loss we feel? How can it be quantified? Not sure it can be.
Today started out like any other. Just another Sunday. Wake up late but just in time to rush to church with Princess Little Tree. Making notes the whole time about this and that, different ideas that would eventually become books or screenplays or blog posts or songs. Then off to Victor’s the closest cool coffee shop in town for a cappuccino and some bakery items. Then home for all the Sunday news shows…. And then BAM! A friend posts something to facebook about Velvet Underground. I see it as a strange. SHE would normally NEVER post anything to social about Lou Reed. That’s odd. Let me check it out… Why would she…? And then I see it. Tony posts something confirming that it’s really true. Lou really passed. Fuck. Wow. Could it really be true? We just had a scare like this with Lou a few months ago. His liver was failing. So we knew this was coming. But man…. Couldn’t we get one more live show in? I really wanted Princess Little Tree to see him live. Just to feel that energy of all that love in the room…. But that’s not going to happen now. Ever. She’ll never get to experience that. And neither will I ever again.
But that’s okay as sad as it is. A few years ago as you know, I had the chance to experience Lou up-close and in person at Carnegie Hall. Along with a handful of other legends. At one of the Tibet House Benefit Concerts. Laurie was there too. (Laurie Anderson, Lou’s genius wife who on her won is one of the most innovative and influential artists of all time). So too was Philip. (Glass). It was an incredible show. When Lou came on you would have thought that Jesus himself had resurrected, again, and walked onto the stage. This was Lou’s home turf after all, New York City, a place that made him famous and that made even more famous just by being him. All you could hear were people screaming “LLLLOOOOOOOUUUUUUUU!!!!!!” It was such an incredible energy. I felt very happy for Lou in that moment. He hadn’t had a great ten years last. Yes he was being lauded by many notables for being the visionary that he was. Wim Wenders and Bono and Julian Schnauble and David Bowie had all done plenty to alert the world to his genius as he got older. But commercially his ship had sailed decades before. And his original albums were not just failing to get anywhere commercially; they were failing to even connect with his small fanbase. The last album that he recorded with Metallica was purely dreadful. To this day I have no idea why he or they did it. It was just a mismatch. I get that they loved him and wanted to work with him. But man when something doesn’t work, it just doesn’t work.
David said once, “The thing about working with Lou is that he will ALWAYS find a way to deliberately fuck things up when you’re in the recording studio. That’s the thing. He doesn’t WANT it to be perfect and polished and commercial sounding.” That quote stayed with me for a long time. Never left actually. I have never forgotten it. For better or worse, from the moment I heard it, I kind of adopted it as an ethos for my own art. I understood from that moment on what it meant to record a Lou Reed Album and why his music always sounded the way it did. He was doing it on purpose. So yes, I can admit it here, I adopted that same principle. That’s how big of an influence Lou was on us, on me I guess I mean to say. There is this strong desire to not suffer this grief alone. I want to call someone. Someone who gets it. But only Beav really gets it out of all the people I know. Most people just don’t love Lou the way I did. Tony is feeling it.
I just texted Tony. Just to connect with someone else who can really understand and who is feeling the same kind of grief. It would be like if David passed, God forbid; I shouldn’t even say such a thing. But it’s that kind of pain and shock. We know it’s inevitable. And God knows that for Lou to last till 72 with the insane lifestyle he had then man was he lucky… but it still comes as a shock. Just one of those things we KNOW is going to happen but we just pretend is NEVER going to happen. That’s being human isn’t it? That knowing combined with that uncanny ability to live in denial as only we can out of all the other animals on the earth…
One of the first things that Princee asked me is “Why is he considered so great? Why is he so loved?” So I went on YouTube and began calling up songs of his to play for her and post to social media. So others could become aware of his great works. At the bottom of this post I will paste the link to a PlayList I created of some of Lou’s greatest musical achievements. It’s just really a start. There is SO MUCH more to his achievements than what is on here. It’s a start. It’ll turn you on to a very small sampling of some of his greatest moments and that’s all. There is plenty more beyond it if you dig what you hear. Lou was one of those very rare artists who continually changed and evolved artistically. He never settled down. He never repeated himself. This is why is so beloved by those that know. For those that do NOT like the usual dreck that dominates the airwaves of today, call them the literati or the cognizati or whatever, they all have a small handful of things in common; a sincere love and respect of Lou Reed being one of them. He was a master wordsmith. Unlike Sir Paul, who can sure write a pretty tune, or even a badass one (“Helter Skelter”), but who often disappointed lyrically, Lou NEVER disappointed lyrically. He was the exact opposite. Like Paul Simon or Elvis Costello, Lou never wasted one word. He never took the easy way out lyrically. He never rhymed just because he needed to. IF he had to, he would forsake the rhyme for the meaning. How FEW artists dare do that in contemporary music?
Listen to the song “Street Hassle” or “Kicks” if you want a taste of what a genius writes like within the confines of modern music. Of course the music isn’t the least bit commercially accessable. But that isn’t why Lou made music. And perhaps that’s why we loved and admired him so. Because he just didn’t care as much about that kind of thing compared with being a great writer. His heroes were real poets, cats like Delmore Shwartz, so he didn’t compare himself to other singer/songwriters… He compared himself to real poets. That had a huge impact on me.
The first time I met Lou was twenty years ago. I was a freshman in college. My own first album had just come out. I had written my final term paper on Lou Reed and Velvet Underground, as crazy as that sounds now. And I was playing on a side stage at an Amnesty International event in Atlanta, GA. So was Lou and a still young U2. I got to meet all these amazing people. I went up to Lou and told him how much I loved him and that I had just written my final on him. His response was something like “That’s nice kid….” and that was it. I didn’t expect any more, but it still stung a bit. But why would he care? Would I now? Do I? In all honesty, it’s not that I don’t, when I am told similar things… It’s more like I just don’t have the time for it… That’s really what it comes down to. It took me years of walking in his shoes a bit to get that. For the little me who got hurt as a young fan to integrate with the larger me that began to do the same things to people as I became older and busier.
A few years later I was on the phone with Laurie’s (Anderson) personal assistant. He told me he was leaving the position. I asked why. Laurie is the BOMB. She’s a freaking genius. “I just can’t take having to deal with Lou” he said. “Is he that bad?” I asked. After all, we were talking because I wanted to cruise over and hang with Laurie but I really wanted to hang with Lou. “How often do you really have to talk to him anyway?” “Well now that he and Laurie are a thing…. even if Lou answers the phone, he’s just so fucking rude and callous sometimes. I can’t deal with it.” This really helped me understand. Lou was still coming out of something. I mean, all that pain that created all that incredible music… Music that could only be created from that kind of pain…. He wasn’t just exploiting it. He was living it. He was it. It was HIS life. And it showed. It hit me… Wow, the reason he is able to touch upon these things… is because he feels this pain, he lives it. And unfortunately for those who have to deal with him on a day to day basis, it can be hard to handle at times.
A few years before, I was at Rudy’s Music, the famed guitar dealer in New York City, this is back in the Acoustic In New York days, circa ’95. Fame was about to come and go yet again for me. Or at least any semblance of importance or relevance in the music business. I was sleeping on couches and knocking on doors. Again. Trying to get this new album out that I had recorded for SONY that now was never going to be released because “the songs were too long”. (This was just one of the many aspects of Lou’s influence…. the ironic balance between the quest we had to achieve at least enough appeal to the suits to be able to release our music but our totally fuck it all attitude to the rules and constraints of the business of music to the point where it became harmful to our ability to achieve any kind of real commercial success…. I mean, without Lou…. I don’t know if I would have ever known to reach that far… In terms of artistic reach…. song length…. the need to tell the whole story regardless of how long the song ended up being…. a lot of that came from Lou….)
Around this time I wanted to buy an original Lou Reed black Telecaster. As close to original and as close to Lou’s as I could. So I went to the source. I knew Lou has all his guitars made and repaired by Rudy. Rudy just flat out told me that yes Lou was a special customer but he was a total dick to work for. That again upset and disappointed me. Beav kept telling me to “go bang on Lou’s door and reintroduce yourself and make friends with him man!” But I kept hearing these things that didn’t bode very well for something like that. As much as I would have loved it. Like Bob did with Woody or Lou himself did with Delmore…. I always pictured myself doing it with Lou. But reality told me that it wasn’t going to play out like that. Speaking with Laurie’s assistant, who I’m deliberately not naming, was the closest I came and I really wanted it to happen. But he assured me that if he were to even get up the desire to do me the favor that it would not turn out the way I imagined. Laurie, sure, no problem. But Lou, not a chance. So it never happened back then. Then I got older and my own star started to reignite.
Tony shares things with me. Evidently Lou became much more kind and docile over the last few years. Which makes me happy. He got clean. He went on antidepressants. He had to. He went all natural, which is always good. Started doing tai chi. Tony said he even became nearly personable. But I just didn’t have the chance now at this stage in my own career; I had become so busy… it’s strange how that happens. I could have made the effort to take just half a day to make the pilgrimage, to share with the man how much he meant to me… But I could never make the time. So there’s that too. Just regret. I could have taken the time. I always just figured there would be time. And maybe that’s one of the lessons to be plucked from this great loss. The intense need there is for us to take the time to do things that are most meaningful and important to us. So we DON’T spend the rest of our lives in regret.
For those that know me, I guess it’s enough just to acknowledge what has happened today and that will provide plenty of context as to why I might be MIA for a while, as well as to help explain what and how I’m feeling… If I come off angry or hostile or overtly down…. I really can’t find the words. I feel as though I’ve lost a family member. And more so than most family members I have truth be told. More so certainly than any kind of sadness I might feel if and when my own father passes. But alas you all will understand the other side of that as well. It hurts. I’ve not yet reached the point of tears.
Because I just feel so goddamned angry still. Mad that it’s happened now. Mad that I’m in bumfuck nowhere instead of New York where I should be at a time like this. Nowhere Lou or Laurie or Tony or any Lou fans, nowhere near any vigils that are going to be taking place tonight all over Manhattan. Just mad that it happened. Mad that I never took the time to go pay my respects when I could. Mad that he’s gone forever now and there’s no chance for that “one more great album from Lou”…. The anger is masking my sadness. But I can feel the pain swelling up inside my chest past my throat and into my face. Pain. Deep painful hurtful pain. Lou is one of the last of them. Besides the obvious ones and I’m not going to name them. But God he was still so young.
It wouldn’t be fair to write about Lou without saying a big FUCK YOU to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for not inducting Lou as solo artist until AFTER he’s dead. For surely NOW they will rush to induct him next year. Even though every fucking year his name comes up and they’ve been passing it up; assuming they had plenty of years to do it still and besides “we’ve already inducted him once with the Velvets….” But no that wasn’t good enough. And now like with so many you’re going to end up doing it posthumously. And that sucks. For Lou, who really wanted it, and for all of us who believed that he should have gotten in there long before half the people who are in there now. I mean, this is the guy who gave us “Walk on wild side,” “Sweet Jane” “Satellite of love” “Coney Island Baby” “Street Hassle” “New York” “Blue Mask” “Berlin” on and on and on. On one else gave us what Lou gave us.
He deserved more recognition in his lifetime than he received. I am sure there is going to be plenty now that he has passed. And that’s one of the many aspects of who and how we are that enrages me to no end. But that’s politics. Today should be a day for remembering WHY we love Lou so much. All those songs man. All that brilliant poetry that spoke in a voice that only he could. That white soul groove that he laid down in song. That razor guitar sound and that wall of noise with that mid-toned nasally New York accented voice that hauntingly floated just above all of it speaking truths about the world and the human condition more honestly and more poetically than almost anyone else before or since. “Hey hey Lou Reed/ there aint no way you’ll ever be a human being….” “And some people they’ve got no choice/ and they can never find a voice/ to talk with or even call their own/ so the first thing that they see/ that gives them the right to be/ why they follow it/ and you know man/ it’s called bad luck”
Lou Reed I’m going to miss you. I loved you dearly. Without you there could never be a me. I’ve never been ashamed or too proud or selfish to admit that. Wish I would have told you that in person when I was older, more as peers and not from such a distance as is created by age. But I know you knew how influential you were to guys like me. To so many. I hope you passed on easily and confidentially knowing how important you were and always will be. And how truly loved admired and respected. Here’s to you Coney Island Baby New York City Man.
Here’s a playlist of just a few of Lou’s greatest contributions to modern music: