for some reason, whenever i hear old songs from the 50s, i think of Death. i know, i’m obsessed with it. you’d be too, if you knew as many suicides and tragedies as i. chances are, some of you do, and are just better-adjusted to it. but i never forget. i still break down when i think of my dog, or my old friends who’ve died, or even that crazy hood Jimmy Harris from the back of the bus who once greeted me by name, out of the blue, when we passed each other, all alone, in the boy’s room, back in high school; who set fire to himself one day, supposedly during an LSD trip, and died a horrifying death, over 2/3 of his body charred or melted off.
i think most of all about my dear friend Mike Mettler, who hung himself in the closet of his old bedroom, in his mom’s house. we worked together, skipped school together (to see that Oliver Stone Doors movie), shared great, great music together (The Doors, Suicidal Tendencies, Queensryche, Bowie, and so many other fine bands), and developed the enormously influential dance craze called The Penuse together.
and my old friend Bill White, who was alternately my ally and my arch-nemesis. he shot himself in the face with a handgun, probably overwhelmed by all the recent changes in a life that was already punctuated by sadness and pain and tragedy. he was one of the most recent deaths. what a great musician he was! one of the 3 or 4 reasons why i moved back to Ohio was because i really wanted to get the classic 4-piece version of Tony’s band The Loving Scares back together, featuring Bill on drums (and occasionally, scorching guitar), Tony on guitar and vocals, Tony’s brother Jeremy on bass and guitar, and me on guitar, keyboards, and occasional vocals. the last time i ever saw Bill, we’d been on very good terms, so i’m glad that when he died there was none of the old bad blood between us.
these things all stay with me and haunt me.
