End of the year?

This year was a whopper.

This was easily one of the most challenging and yet rewarding years i have had in recent memory.

First off, i turned forty.  

My body decided to make me allergic to all nuts ( i was down to cashews and almonds- they are out) then there was the massive tooth infection/ extraction as well as the usual bumps and bruises, and  me trying to be an active father, that have been the real challenge.

I look forward to sleep.  I take afternoon naps.  In the past i would fly as fast and high as i could, ever reaching new heights of glory due to spontaneity and vigor, and now?

I am in more balance and in more focus than i have ever been in.

I have whittled away the parts of me that did not promote further growth for my self-and especially my family-and have been pleasantly happy with the results.

Do you want to know what the key was?

A huge part of it was listening and enjoying the music of my youth.  The music i first enjoyed outside of the main stream sounds i was accustomed to.  I am talking about the stiff i listened to BEFORE i conformed to punk and BEFORE i wore the uniform and flew the flag.

The music of later Black Flag, Skinny Puppy, old Rollins Band, The Velvet Underground.  They all gave me my initial spark and have re-invigorated my sense of interest in well, being myself.

That long summer of 1988.  The end of my innocence and the beginning of my great adventure that still continues to this day.

Ok. Happy New One.  To all three of my readers.  

Collared Greens.

Visuals 6.

    Four generations & an uncle. 

    Finger painting this morning.

    Pallets.

    Jackson at Nonotuck Park.

    50¢ binoculars and Mt. Holyoke.

   The Holyoke Merry-Go-Round. 

Sounds: Black Flag, Gang of Four, Skinny Puppy, Bottle Rocket Soundtrack, John Coltrane.

Visuals:  Pacific Rim, Star Trek: Voyager, American Horror Story, Movie 43, Wall-E, Liebstraum. 

Extraction.

ex·trac·tion
ikˈstrakSHən/:
noun
the action of taking out something, esp. using effort or force.
"mineral extraction"
synonyms: removal, taking out, drawing out, pulling out.

Almost three Fridays ago, i decided to eat a salad.  It was a good salad.  Full of nice chicken, beans, and artichoke hearts.  I took a good bite out of one artichoke heart and WHAM!  Instant pain in one of my upper right teeth.

It hurt like hell, but quickly subsided and i thought nothing of it.

Fast forward to Tuesday and this dull  throb starts to gain it's timber upon the tooth that i had bitten hard on with of all things: an artichoke heart.

The pain increased and by Wednesday afternoon i decided to go to the dentist.  I left work at 215pm and made an emergency appointment for 430pm.  I went home and lay in pain, hoping the dentist would find out if there was food or some seed or something lodged in the tooth, or in between the teeth.
The throb's crescendo increased into every heart beat, every pump of blood would send it to the tooth.  I was starting to feel the full blown agony of this ache, and my already weak will was waning.

After some prodding, banging on the tooth and finally an X-ray, my poor tooth (#5 by the charts)  had jammed up into my jaw with such force, that one of the roots was broken and the nerve was exposed.

So, it's time to extract this thing and send me home right?!

Why, no.  I think the dentist sort of whined (it was getting to be around 5pm) that they had a 'dinner meeting' that night.  My ire was growing.  I knew this was getting worse.  I told the dental assistant that i was feeling feverish.  She took my temperature and it  was normal.

I finally piped up 'excuse me, i am in agony.  Could you get this DAMNED THING out of my mouth?!'

The dentist walked out of the room and came back maybe ten minutes later and said that they couldn't do the extraction due to 'possible complications.'  I knew i was getting the brush.  i wonder what kind of nice meal they would have at their dinner meeting?  I sure wasn't going to be eating anything besides yogurt, that's for sure.

So the dentist writes out a prescription for some 'high end narcotic' and gives me the number for an oral surgeon i'm supposed to see the next day.  Ok.  at least i won't be in pain tonight.

Just wait until you read what happens next.

I get to the pharmacy.  The pharmacist takes the prescription slip, i am still in agony.  HE then calls me back over after five minutes and lets me know that he's having a problem with the dentist's federal Id.  This is a n identification number doctors and the like get to dole out their super happy fun meds.  Well her's wasn't working.  HE calls her and confirms the number.  It still doesn't work.  He tells me to try another pharmacy.  I shuffle out, in pain and getting angry.

And the same thing happens at the next pharmacy.  I inquire as to why the ID is not working.  The pharmacist says it could be anything from the dentist failing to register properly to passing fraudulent scripts.
Maybe the dentist was too busy planning a dinner meeting to care about their patient's well being.

So i head home.  After doing the only thing i could think of to dull the pain ( i was told not to take aspirin etc. as i may be put under for the extraction the next day) and bought some vodka.  

I went home, slammed two double shots and went off to lala land.

And then around 9 pm, i was drenched in sweat, delusional and in the worse pain ever.  The right side of my face had started to swell up and the pain was reaching behind my eye.  I was guzzling water (no more vodka, my body did not want that.) and sweating it out at an alarming rate.  I would have these delusional dreams that i was in Black Flag and on tour singing for them.  I mean i felt like i was right there in the thick of it.  I was G-O-N-E GONE.

Morning brought more pain and i could barely put two words together.  Terri took my tempurature: 102.9.  I was dangerously close to being hospitalized but decided to stick it out, knowing the extraction would fix everything. 

Terri called for my appointment at 215, i called into work and proceeded to moan about the house like some feverish specter.

I forced down half a bowl of oatmeal and guzzled more water.  Finally, my appointment arrived and after a grueling session of forms i was in the waiting room and it started to smell.  Like rot or something.

As a matter of fact, i can taste the smell.  I was like burned milk or hair that is on fire.  Just awful.

I made it into the exam room of the oral surgeon and i was a bare bones triage.  The oral surgeon-my new hero-  was way cooler than any dentist i've had.  He and his assistants had this sense of urgency that i can only equate to Harry Tuttle in the movie Brazil.

HE stuck one finger in my mouth and said 'we've got pus.'  and started filling my mouth with gauze.  

I said 'that's what i've been tasting?!'  and the oral surgeon snaps back with 'you should smell it!'  

My kind of humor.  I like this place.

So the tooth has to come out.  HE had this huge needle with these small vials of novocaine that he kept punching into the ever growing pus filled gap that was above my poor old #5 tooth.  The assistant informed me as the numbness set in, that the bacteria in the infection actually counter  acts the numbing agent in the novocaine.  That's why the oral surgeon had to stab me five times and use four vials of the stuff.

So, out the tooth goes and they power wash into the hole to get all of the infection out.  The assistants suction hose  kept getting gooped up with pus as she worked.  They even cut at the top of my gum line and attached a tube to 'help drain me out.'

I was already feeling a lot better.  I was down a tooth, but i finally got what i needed.

So they sent me out-$124 later- with some powerful antibiotics and some vicodin to help ease me through the next days.

Oh, and what's that?  Why yes, i do operate heavy machinery dear oral surgeon.  Oh what?  Well i agree.  I probably shouldn't go to work and rest up until Tuesday.

I took the antibiotics faithfully, and despite taking two of the pain pills right off the bat ( i owed this to my self after the previous evenings delirium) i took them as prescribed and even had the following Monday off of then vicodin completely and on to acetaminophen.

 Oh, and to my dentist: here's what you do LIKE THE ORAL SURGEON DID:  you call to make sure your patient is all right.  You follow through and take care of the people that pay you to do so.

I cancelled the Monday appointment with my dentist and received a rather rude message from the receptionist about making a follow up appointment.  As if.

So i went through pain and feverish agony all night because:

a)  They wouldn't do an extraction because of a dinner meeting.

b)  The dentists FID was not working for me to get relief.


I am taking the high road.  I have thrown at least $5000 at this dentist over the past six years only to be treated like some sort of second class citizen.

I have decided that tooth #5 was not the only thing being extracted from my life.

Long live tooth #5.  May an aspiring dentist use you well to train on.

Forty.

At 10:07 am EST i turned forty years old today.

I am currently writing in my living room, Terri and Elsie are asleep on the couch as the end credits to Where The Wild Things Are roll.

We are being lazy today.  I want to ease into the next half of my life with ease and i want to be better with the things i do.

That is my goal.  Well, that and raising my kid, being a good man to Terri, maintaining my job and trying to ease my self back into music.

I would rush into things, gobble them up, and spit them out too quickly in my past.  Endeavors that i could've really appreciated, ended up falling to they wayside.

I am not begrudging my self of anything.  Today and last night were especially dear times and i felt complete being amongst  my closest friends.

I wanted to keep this short.  Forty is a milestone.

But it's also just a number.

List #1.

Examining influential bassists.

Background:  It was1989. My brother had a Service Merchandise bought bass. I had marijuana.  He needed the marijuana and i needed the bass.  I was now a bassist.  I was terrible. I am just a little bit better now. 

Flash forward 24 years and many bands later, i want to share with you those who inspired me to keep the bridge between the high and low end together.

Early influences:

* denotes major influence.

Eric Avery. *

David J. *

Andy Rourke.

Kira Roessler. *

Simon Gallup.*

Dan Lilker.*

Andrew Weiss.*

Flea.*

Norwood 'Fish' Fisher.*

From the 90's to today:

Les Claypool.*

Geezer Butler.

Kim Gordon.

Mike Watt.*

Paul Simonon.*

Trevor Dunn.*

Graham Lewis.

Rob Wright.*

My favorite bassist?  

Probably Kira Roessler.  

She was direct and succinct, but had one hell of a time keeping up with Greg Ginn's time changes and weird 

anomalous playing in Black Flag.  Listen to their album 'In My Head' or 'Live in '84' to get a good idea of her playing. 

In fact, my favorite version of Black Flag coincides with the fact that the first punk tape i purchased in the summer of 1988 was Flag's 'In My Head.'  So repeated sessions in my basement room probably drilled that in.

Here's a pic of the Black Flag line up that i like the most:

L-R: Greg Ginn, Henry Rollins, Bill Stevenson and Kira Roessler hoisting some java between marathon practice sessions. 

So search some of the lesser known names out of you want.  Check out Nomeansno and early Wire for sure. 

And Mike Watt is HIGHLY overrated.  But The Minutemen were great. 

calm.

The shadows are getting longer as the earth starts tilting on it's axis.

Summer's ambivalent sigh has given way from brutal heat to cool evenings devoid of sweat and dehydration.

Plants have grown as i have, giving an equal yield of new and enjoyable fruits.

My longing for more coalesces into the need for calm and revision.

This is my ode to the coming fall:  revising my already abundant inventory of the things i've nurtured over the past few months. To study greatly on the seasons to come, and the wonderful challenges they offer.

I have planted seeds of calm, have nourished in the glow of family, home and friendship.  I gave regained my sense of humanity, humility and temperance. 

calm.

visuals 5.

mountainview farm mid august.

iced cream with mom at old orchard beach.

el and jackson relaxing.

el drumming at the flea market.

Shelley Winters. 

visuals 4.

My first Guitar.  $50. from Goodwill. Time to shred.

El on the 4th of July at nani's house.

El at Magic Wings in Deerfield. 

One of the first pictures El shot. 

From the interweb: John Goodman in a Flag shirt. (source unknown.)

Watching:  Star Trek-Voyager. Tim's Cooking Tips. The Ben Stiller Show. Anchorman- The Legend of Ron Burgundy. julien donkey-boy. The Host. 

Listening: David Lynch- The Big Dream. Devo- Hardcore Devo 1 & 2. Napalm Death- From Enslavement to Obliteration.  

Eye Exam.

I had my eyes examined today.  

This was the first time it was professionally done, and cost me a whopping $10 with a copay. 

The easy part was reading the charts, getting the three different machines in place and trying to not look as i was told to look straight ahead.  

Both the technicians were really nice, and tolerated my immature curiosity and questions, which made up for the eye drops. 

The first drops were numbing.  That was so the excruciating dilation drops could come next.  

They did not hurt when applied, but the next fifteen minutes became rather bothersome, to say the least.

I have taken various 'substances' in the past that led to dilation of my pupils for a large amount of time, usually during the evening hours. 

Today, it was around ten in the morning and everything had a weird aura around it.  The pain was slow and throbbing, like a distant drum beat in a car that will soon pass by.

I dealt with this for four hours and had to wear sunglasses around the house. I wanted a pair of those granny terminator glasses- and even asked- but those are saved for cataract patients. 

It was as though my focus was wide open and yet whitewashed out by a broken light filter. 

After all was said and fine, i found my self NOT in need of glasses for my nearsighted eyes.

What the optician- who was really cool- gave me was neat as hell.

She gave me a prescription for glasses that expires two years from now.

This means, when i do choose to get the glasses, i have the time to play around with it.

Funny as hell fact:  pretty much everyone on both sides of my family has glasses.

I guess i lucked out?

Here's a picture of my daughter:

We spent part of Saturday making sounds on my keyboard and bass.  She was having such a great time. 

Tonight she had artichokes again- one of her favorites.  

I'm so proud of how open minded and willing she is about trying new things. 

Sounds:  Devo, Front 242, Paul Simon. 

Visuals:  Dexter, Primal Grill, Charlotte's Web, Idiocracy. 

 

In the minutiae.

This road used to be the entrance to the chicken farm my great grandfather owned and lost in the early 20th century. It is in Southwick, Mass. and we went there last Sunday. 

Here are my ladies at Stanley Park in Westfield, Mass. last Sunday.

Elsie, last Tuesday. A rock god is born.

Helpful hint: take a picture of a menu. That way you have it at all times and can order ahead etc. 

Also:  this is my second Fathers Day.  It is a Hallmark holiday, so to me it's just Sunday.

I am tired of seeing and hearing all of these ads for the day concerning dads and what 'real american men' want on this day.

Most have these themes:

Grilling.

Sports.

Hardware stores/ fixing things.

Golf.

Cigars.

It's a sad state of affairs when one gets   compartmentalized by ad buffoons. 

What the living hell!?

I want to spend tomorrow with my ladies, enjoying a few laughs and some affection and maybe a little more iced cream than i  usually ration my self.

It's supposed to be my day i guess, so i don't need to supplicate to the norm and expect some golf, then home to install gutters while listening to 'the game' and then i'll sweat over a grill while smoking some nasty thing that looks like a turd and tastes like a burning tire. 

Oh well.

Such is the lather, rinse, repeat mentality of typical 'men' in this american culture.

Next. 

Now watching:  Star Trek-Voyager. The Man From Earth. 

Now listening:  Godflesh. Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Swans. Napalm Death. Flipper.

visuals 3.

cleared for docking.

'you're just about sober.'

is what i said to my friend dave, a confidant at work who i spent a good part of the early to mid 2000's stoned or drunk with.

he had told me that he hadn't had a drink in three days.  and the reply i gave him is the one above.

then he said something that was funny as hell, 'yeah, but if i go any longer, things will start to look really ugly. that's because reality is an ugly thing.'

so much truth.

i am now a seeker of clarity.  i enjoy the life i've built around me and have been equally enjoying the fruits of my labors.  i don't want to give this up for the world-even if it is ugly.

i've seen the detritus of humanity and it isn't pretty.  lots of excess poured out all over cracked and stained sidewalks. over aggressive misguided dominant behaviors due to lack of knowledge or boredom. people constantly beaten down by their own lack of enthusiasm for life and strict adherence to dead, out of date ideals and social paradigms.

there is a vast amount of ugliness that has been enhanced from my new found clarity and i try to rise above it with a kick ass attitude and sense of humor. 

beauty is everywhere, and it took me until recently to look up and feel good about. 


it's called living...not existing.

#100.

hi everyone.
you know, a lot of us have been or are just starting to or will go through the metamorphosis of quitting the drink.
some of us may label ourselves as sober, an alcoholic, addict etc. and carry the weight of that label until who knows when.

i am a proud 'alcoholic.'

i want and have been striving to become more than that: the self that uses kindness, patience and understanding to deal with living. the self that i always dreamed of but due to faulty wiring, couldn't.

the ' i can't do it' and 'sobriety is too hard' gets replaced with 'what's next!?' and ' i can handle this' and:
'even if things suck, at least i'm clear headed enough to know that i am good enough for my self again and i am kicking addiction's behind by being the example i know i've always been.'

in my opinion, it's a fucking cop out to give in to your own weakness by acting like a wounded victim because you don't have a crutch like alcohol to mask your real problems anymore.

no more teetering on the edge of relapse.

no more feeling ashamed or lost because you can't have the bottle.

no more counting moments instead of living them.

no more consent to weakness.

no more looking down, or away.

no more 'i can't.'

my armor is my clear mind. my weapon is my new found understanding.

(if i can remain clear, anyone can.)

visuals 2.

attentive. (i'm better one on one.)

last night i went to a friend's party and enjoyed my self immensely. there was food and enough booze to stun an elephant.

ha. it was a cool casual time and everyone was socially drinking. not like the old days when...never mind.

of course I stuck with a dangerous concoction of red bull mixed with a 32 oz. vitamin water. it was basically an taurine overload
there were three major events that made last night:

1) i finally saw a few cover songs from the band i missed two fridays ago. they played in my friend's basement. it was cool a as hell and worth showing up.

2) an old friend had gotten oil paints from his wife for christmas and right out of the gate is amazing. the skull paintings he created were photorealistic. he's got the gift.

3) having my one on one conversation with a dear friend for an
hour after i was supposed to leave. i
had a great time catching up with dan and wish i had more time to talk one on one with robot, but he was hosting the party and was really busy.
i felt really good to have a normal conversation and was able to express my self to a true friend who didn't care if we did or didn't drink. with these guys it's all about the good time and not the buzz. i had forgotten that.

so i was able to see some rock and roll, said hi to good people and saw some great art, and figured out that i am more of a one on one person when it comes to interaction.

i did make it home by midnight. we had a busy day on sunday and all that was left to drink for me was a fresca.

and that wasn't going to happen.

$20 hat. 5 sandwiches. 100 posts.

20 dollar hat.

the dog wouldn't come in.  elsie stared to run amok.  i needed to fill my travel mug  with coffee.  i needed to get elsie to grandma's so i could  go to 'hamp and buy lunch and a talking heads cd.

i forgot my hat.

my hair sucks lately.  i am balding really badly in front , so i have grown everything that's left up top and have  kept the sides and back short.  i comb my hair forward and so far so good...with a hat on.

the wind picks up and i suddenly look like i'm about to lose my toupee.

i am going through some serious hat withdrawal.  like when i lose my burt's bees lip balm.

such is mid life.

i need a hat.

acme surplus just has cancer hats.

deals and steals had fancy dapper hats and camouflage baseball hats.  um...no.

i ended up at newbury comics and purchased a blue plaidish hat with a small bomb logo on it for 20 dollars.
i liked the subtlety of the bomb logo and it doesn't look bad.
it's treading close to dad hat land though.
the company is 'the hundreds.'  i didn't realize that they were a bit hipster for my tastes, but it covered my head and i had a hat and it wasn't my usual black hat gig so i'm working on trying new things out.

5 sandwiches.

they had a luncheon for us at work today.  big deli trays full of sandwiches for us to eat in thanks for making the company almost 200 million dollars in the first quarter.

everyone was bummed out today, so i kept going around pointing at random people and saying 'you get a free sandwich' to brighten them up.
good stuff.
the rolls were amazing.
we were on the second break.
we were told to have more as there were heaps of sandwiches left.

i had five sandwiches.

that was two over what i should've eaten.

never turn down a free meal.

100 posts.

this will be the 96th post i've made on PRE WAR CON DI TION since it's inception.

my hope is to have the 100th one in the bag by monday.

i am not going to fill the next four posts with crap so i can squeeze it in on my days off.  if something cool occurs, i will post.

i really want #100 to be special, so i may try another video or so.  who knows.

thanks  for being here with me the whole time... and keeping the blog fire burning with me.

stay tuned.

(90) more days.

today was ninety more days of me not drinking.  it was part of my 30/60/90 plan to follow, to make sure i am in the clear of wanting to use alcohol.

it worked (again.)

i have given my self permission to feel how i want to, to not transgress my emotions or viewpoint or  reality as i have perceived it as of late, and it paid off in spades.

having a semblance of self control has given me a window into a world that i had long forgotten and  it has aided me in making more rational decisions based on actual criteria instead of instinct.

i have used this new tool, to come out ahead on situations, to sway a disagreement or to challenge an ideal.

with that, i have also re learned tact.

as a newly tactful person. my peers-especially at my workplace- have come to me with their queries, problems and just to share a laugh.  this connection would not have been in place if i was still inside a bottle and i guess that is what i am grateful for the most, as far as my emotional maturity is concerned.

i leave you now with a simple promise.  i promise that i will listen to you when you talk to me now.  i promise that i will be attentive to your feelings as well as my own, and i mostly promise that the good me is back and is really happy to be here again to share in living and laughing.

i don't want to write (90) more days ever again...

..unless it's something like '90 more days until elsie is back from the ISS working on a warp converter.'

...or 'ninety more days until my band plays Wembley Stadium again.'

a beer in the refrigerator?!

i was supposed to go to florence mass. to see my friends play some music tonight at a bar but i really didn't feel like it.
i miss my buddies from back in the day and all of the misadventures we had.  what a bunch of characters. truly some great people.
i really wanted to connect with the guys but it would've ended up like it did a few weeks ago when i went to westfield mass. to see music:

i show up.
explain that i don't drink anymore.
awkward feelings from myself and others.
i see some great music.
some people start to become wastey and somewhat annoying.
i exit early to come home and write about it.

i'll go out again and it's not because bars have booze and the temptation would be there blah blah blah, but to be honest with you, i have absolutely no interest in getting drunk nor do i have any want of alcohol.  tonight i just want to sit and think about my next moves, where i want to be a year from now etc...

i just don't want to have to give the whole: 'the kid is fine, yep i'm a wimp because i don't drink-no i can't have one, your breath stinks-yeah, work is fine and i'm bored of this already and can't hear a word you're saying, hey why didn't we just go get a burger at the diner and have some discourse and wok on something like an idea?' type situation that i have avoided as of late.

man, that was harsh.. these are pretty good guys and my problem isn't theirs.  i have to write these things out though, i need to purge my self of these thoughts.

i'm spending the night drinking iced guayusa and watching the rest of season five of star trek season 5 on netflix.

the crew of the enterprise-d are very good company, well versed and very entertaining.

but then there's the title of this writing....what was i referring to?

there is a beer in my refrigerator.  it is a cold can of miller lite.  oh dear it's it's for the beer can chicken i'm cooking tomorrow for dinner.

i went to the local package store on monday, walked to the singles section and paid $1.25 for it.  it's been in the fridge ever since.  i can't wait to have it as part of the recipe and what it will add to the moist flavor of the chicken.
i gave a lot of thought as to what i would use instead of a real beer for the chicken.  i could've used a can of non alcoholic beer, but the little alcohol-which will burn off at the temp i cook the chicken-will help break down the proteins in the chicken a little and will also help render the fat.  using a non alcoholic beer would have tasted as good but wouldn't have done the job.

i went into the package store to buy something to cook with.  i didn't even think twice about the beer or any other alcohol in the place (even typing this right now, my stomach is turning) but what application it would have in a recipe that i've cooked many times before.
the only other time i thought about the beer, was when it fell out of the refrigerator and onto the floor.

i think that it should be noted that i have made a lot of progress with myself and the drink  i have passed a certain point where i no longer think of the alcohol or it's effects or what it supposedly gave to me in any fashion.  i have moved on from the need for escapism and have fully given my self over to 'the now' and the
need to be part of more than feeding into the little bubble i existed in for so long.


once you free your self from the thing that holds you down and decide to stand up on your own two feet, the best is always yet to come.

it's still only 1051 pm.....nah...

Guayusa:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guayusa

visuals.