S is for a Sobering Look at the Truth

In a world that operates correctly, last night went down perfectly. Friend of 20+ (friend Z) years does live show. Friend for life (friend J) turns 40. We make it happen and friend Z on stage manages to spot you in a sea of people and, out of respect, plays a few songs and gives a few shouts out. Mutual love exchanged. Mutual respect exchanged. A happy birthday is had by friend J.


Tremendously talented friend J who is now 40 finds out he is definitely getting screwed by one ginormous douchebag bully (asshat M) who apparently no one stands up to. And I have to restrain myself from saying anything because to do so would be gauche if anyone listened at all.

AND I KNEW, I KNEW, what a bag of dicks this fool (M) was to begin with. Because I knew him as someone else before all the ego and north american tours came into it. I knew him as that dipshit whose best friend (friend E) was my roommate. I helped friend E get off heroin by just being there, cooking, going for rides and hanging with him while he surfed. Asshat M has thanked me a few times for this even though, really, it had very little to do with me.

So. Fast forward a few years. M is a superstar, J far out-shadows him in talent, E is still off the H, Z is and always will be a down ass motherfucker and now I am faced with a decision. Imagine I am talking about Coachella or whatever comes to mind when I say “festival”. Well this Coachella runs from thursday at 8 am until essentially 12 am Monday. Imagine you’re me, and you’ve put aside all your thoughts about how much you dislike M. You’ve basically bought into the whole thing and so has your best friend and ex-husband. Money has been spent. Time and effort have been invested. Travel of 500 miles is involved. Only to find out you will miss the one reason you’re both going.

Because M chooses who plays when and he has shown himself to be exactly who you knew he was all along. And I’m glad. Because being around people as high as fuck on whatever they can get their hands on for 5 days sounded bad to begin with, Quite frankly I have been wondering how I was even going to get through it without snapping.

Last night was a rush of blood to the head. I was able to walk through a room without a bunch of crackheads talking AT each other or AT me with no-one listening. That’s fucking rare these days. My prime directive is never to get as wasted as possible or to be around people who share that goal. Drink a 6 pack? fine. Smoke some weed? Fine. Take an E? Fine. Handle your shit. If you can’t? I’m probably the one ruining your high.

I’m gonna keep it classy and not name names or events. Except one. Friend Z. Zach? Z-Trip? You are the epitome of a friend and you always will be. Your life is awesome because you have always been ahead of the curve in being a human and making people happy.

I had to write this out because I am tortured mentally about not being supportive and going to this bizarro-coachella. But in the end I think my absence will be felt much more strongly than my presence. As for the ex? Well I’m leaving that up to him. I’ll take him there. And pick him up when he’s had enough if that’s what he chooses. BUT I’M NOT GOING.


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