the story of t rex
it's been raining for days now. days. and the whole household is feeling the boredom of being stuck inside the house. eva has developed some new neurosis - she has decided that rain and thunder are constant companions, and since she is now afraid of thunder, all rain is potentially bad, and she refuses to go out in it. to get her to use the grass - i actually have to go out into the yard with her, like a living security blanket against loud noises.
there should be a remedy for this malaise - some easy fix for the rainy week blues. it does seem from my life experience that music of some kind should be inserted here - something to sooth the soul and relieve me of the melancholy i'm accruing. but, music is not always a joy for me. it is not always a companion for happy times, for life affirming events.
sometimes music is sad.
for me, music is attached to everything. every thing. every single thing i touch, or hear, or think about or say. it is all music. except for a while after my mom died, when there was no music. there was no sound, really, except for crying, and the racing of my heart with each panic attack. but normally - it is all music. so naturally, when good things happen there are songs attached. conversely, though, it means when sad things happen, there are songs attached.
many years ago, when my parents were both still alive, so the late 90s, 97 or 98, i was working at a record store that was not my own. i had been there a few years, and was accustomed to the poor people who sold records, the local bands who sold records, the junkies in need of cash who stole and sold records. i saw, daily, an incredible stream of used vinyl filter in the door, and often times had first crack at any of the things i wanted to buy. in the case of it being great music, and me not needing it, someone i knew was always ready to get that call - the great call about some hard to find album they had been dying for. holy cow did i see a lot of records come and go.
how did all this start? when did this music obsession begin? the constant need for an accompaniment of sound, the shutting off of the rest of the world to only hear the lyrics of daydreams? i have some points to highlight, i know mostly how it all came to be.
family. it was family. starting with my mom loving bob dylan, and my siblings constantly playing music and going to concerts. CONSTANTLY. which, for someone like me, who loves music, is a good thing.
my siblings are all older. their influence on me was huge. i heard a lot of neil young, emerson lake and palmer, jimi hendrix. boston, blue oyster cult. music was on non-stop in our house. thanksgiving day parties with arlo guthrie as the main course. my siblings, and their friends.
my brothers had a friend name joe, we called him joey, and he lived down the street less than a mile. it seems like he was always there, in the time line i mean, and so he in my mind is like a third brother. he and larry were so close. he liked glam rock in the early 80s and loved to get dressed up. he was friends with the guys in seduce and went to the bar every weekend to see bands. he dated my sister for a little while, and on occasion baby sat me when needed. i remember one halloween when he stopped by after i had come home from trick or treating - he was dressed up as a pirate in these tight white satin pants and a black frilly shirt, with make up and a pirates hat. he had a big beer mug full of coins, because back then you could go out as an adult and get change from people and they would not yell at you or tell you off. joey stopped by to have a drink and visit my mom and talk about life.
i was about 14 when my brother larry came home to visit from florida, and i got to hang out with the guys - who, at that time, were about 26. they seemed like rock stars to me - they traveled, they went to concerts, they were cool. and while larry drove down the street, he and joey snorted coke off a cassette tape case in the car. yep, while driving and with their 14 year old sister in the car. it seemed normal to me - that was how life was lived.
you see, i grew up surrounded by people with addictions - drugs, alcohol, sex, speed, violence - it almost seemed as if my family was a magnet for the wildest people on earth, and it was all a big game to everyone involved. adrenaline - how much can you pack into each second of each day? how high can you get, and how high can you get next time? this was all topped off by the fact my parents were skydivers, and all their friends loved to jump out of planes. what a wild ride my life has been.
so yeah, joey and larry and billy partied a lot. and listened to music. in fact, t rex was joey's favorite. in the late 90s, working at that record store for someone else, i thought of him over and over. how may times i wanted to call him and say, "oh my god, joey - the most incredible t rex albums are coming into the shop! you have to come see them!! imports, picture discs, stuff no one here has ever seen!!". but instead i called my friends and told them about the awesome cache of albums coming in, and we all bought t rex albums and listened to them screamingly loud and sang along. it was extremely good times!!
at christmas that year, i drove past joey's house on my way back from the mall. i had been out christmas shopping, and on my way home i passed his house and my parents house, but did not stop. even though he was only 4 or 5 houses from the corner i was at, i just kept driving. i'll call him later, i said to myself. he'll be around.
i got home, and did some things, who knows what now that it has been so many years, and then i called my mom, who was not home. instead, my dad answered the phone. he started telling me my mom was really sick, that she had this incredible drinking problem and was addicted to pills, and since dad was the one who always lied and made up stories and was the true alcoholic, i did not believe him. but then he said, "you know, if she is not careful she is gonna go POOF! like joey - and she'll be gone."
i said "dad what do you mean poof like joey?", and he told me that joey had over dosed on heroin the night before and was dead. the whole world stopped spinning.
those records, all those t rex records, the ones joey would have loved - he did love, until his need for heroin over took him. those records were his - he had been giving them to a friend to sell to the shop i worked at so i did not see him coming and going, so i was shielded from his addiction and all the evils that went with it. 15 years ago i was 26 so he would have been 38, and he had lost his hair, gotten very out of shape, and was a manager at a burger king. his life had gone nowhere, and he was finally tired of being the bald overweight faggot that managed a burger king. he had let his addiction take over, and take his life.
i called my friends. i asked them to be as kind to the records they had bought as they could be, because those records had belonged to someone who to me was family, and i told them all the story. i asked them that if they ever decided to sell those records - would they please sell them to me, so i could have a little piece of joey back. they all said yes. it's never come up in conversation again - i think out of respect they never will give them up, and i'm okay with that. or, maybe they are trying to keep my heart from breaking even further.
i love t rex records. love them. all the imagery, all the fairy tales and beautiful things, all those guitars. and for all that love there is some sadness, no matter how hard i try to block it out, or not feel it - every time i hear t rex i think of joey, and i miss him.
in the midst of too many days of rain all in a row, of being melancholy and inward facing, i think of those i have lost, and of their connection to me, and my life, and my love of music. and i just listen to the rain.
No comments:
Post a Comment