Friday, October 16, 2009

Screw your hero!

I do have a hero. Growing up in suburban St.Albert was a great time in my life. I had it all, a big house, my family, friends and all the amenities that are part of a normal North American upbringing. Unfortunately on my 12Th birthday I was smacked in the face with reality. My mother left my father. She took me and my older brother out of our home and moved us out to the low income neighbourhood in St. Albert. We lived in a massive apartment complex. Not what I was used too. It happened on my birthday so the separation had a tremendous impact on my view of life and how thing seem to work out. I remember listening to the bare naked ladies as a child growing up in the house my father built. I remember singing songs like "If I had a million dollars" and thinking what I would do with that million bucks.
After the separation my life changed and life wasn't filled with the same happiness it was before. I got jaded and I remember looking for answers. This was about a year after Kurt Cobain killed himself. His music was still very much a part of main stream society. Before moving to the massive housing complex I was never exposed to cable TV, but after the separation Much music became a part of my existence. I lived for it. It was the 90's. Cobain was dead but his influence seemed to have stayed. The man was my hero and he blew his head off before I even knew who he was.
Curt Cobain was an addict. He shot heroin and did drugs. Unfortunately being so heavily influenced by him I desensitized myself to those types of things. I moved in the direction of substance abuse. On my 22ND birthday I decided to actually move forward and try to do what I wanted. I totally started to indulge in indulgences I wanted to. Just like i decided to love Nirvana when I was twelve. I was devoted to living my life like a punk start who just doesn't care, because that's what I actually wanted.
I found myself on prescription drugs locked up in a psych ward in Calgary a year later. I had dropped out of university of Wisconsin Green Bay and traveled to Florida and then all the way up to Banff where my car broke down. I tried to get my prescription refilled but the doctor had told me I was psychotic and needed help. I was trapped in a hospital against my will and still I was a devout Cobainist. I remember when I got out of the hospital what I wanted. The doctors took my drugs away and really forced me to look for different way to satisfy my needs. My girlfriend was with me at the time of release. She got pregnant.
Since then I realized what a coward Kurt Cobain was. He had a child, and for whatever reason he committed himself to an escape lifestyle, which is OK but he had a daughter and he abounded her. Even though I idolized the king of grunge I just could not abandon my child. I wasn't ready for what was coming but almost t immediately changed who I was. My child was a way out of the broken home. The best thing I learned from Kurt Cobain was to follow my heart to the death if I have to. Now I know my heart lies with my child. He is my new hero. Now my favorite part about growing up addicted to Nirvana is that I can rip a solid punk riff on my guitar.

8 comments:

kjl said...

It was Rocky Mountain House, November 1988. My daily ritual had been 12 hours of work at the restaurant, close up the restaurant, then off to the bar to drink as much as i could as quickly as i could until i closed it down, too. Take the party home from there -- if you could use the term "home" for an apartment over the Western Wear shop next to the bar. Take one of the partiers to bed with me -- someone from the band, usually, not always the best looking one, always the most interesting though. Get up in morning, kick out my latest ship in the night, pour myself a big coffee and start all over again. I never hurt (many) of them. They were usually surprised and sort of grateful. I don't think they knew how much i hated them and especially myself. It was going to be suicide by lifestyle. I wanted it. This one was different, though. I had gotten caught by one. Fell in love, i said, but it felt like a rising and not a falling. A boy in the band. Married. Knowing he went home to his wife after each gig in my town made me drink more some days, some days less. Then there was That day. The day the little stick i had peed on turned blue. I knew he would never leave her, so it would be all me. Stupid, young, already divorced, angry, fucked up me. A mom. God help that little boy (and he did, but i am getting ahead of myself). Quit my job. Move "home" where i had family and one or two friends left. Take a lot of deep breaths. Quit drinking. Quit smoking weed. 21 years ago, my little boy saved my life. I wish i could say that i made only smart decisions after that, but i didn't. Two more failed marriages. Dragged him through some crap, i did, but each time i found myself in it, i knew that even if i didn't care enough about myself to get out, i had to get out for him. Nothing in life ever looked the same way again.

I get it. What you think you know is true.

taxitalk said...

Now that a comment!
Thank you

Alyson Sunny said...

Dude.. you inspire me!

Anonymous said...

Me too! I want to kill myself every time I read this blog.

taxitalk said...

lol

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