Blog

I want new shoes. I want new clothes. I want new furniture. I want a new apartment. I want new trips. I want I want I want.

Heart failure. Diabetes. High blood pressure. I really should have died this year. I always thought I would be dead by the time I reached 40. I guess I have three more months before I do hit 40, so there is still time for the prophecy to be fulfilled.

Despite this brush with death, I can’t say 2018 completely sucked. This was the year I started to travel earnestly. From a trip to Vegas in January, my first time in Berlin in March, to a New Mexico road trip, another visit to Berlin with a day in Prague, I was really out and about the world this year.

Astronomical Clock in Prague
Astronomical Clock in Prague
A pro-gun control protest at Brandenburg Gate in Berlin
A pro-gun control protest at Brandenburg Gate in Berlin
Route 666 sign in Gallup, NM
Route 666 sign in Gallup, NM
Here are the 15 artists I listened to most this year:

Nine Inch Nails
Depeche Mode
Ministry
Mr. Kitty
PJ Harvey
Skinny Puppy
Ladytron
Front Line Assembly
Boy Harsher
Zola Jesus
Nirvana
KMFDM
Sonic Youth
Drab Majesty
Siouxsie and the Banshees
As awful as the news has been, I guess things haven’t been all that horrible. Well except for most of my blog “disappearing.” Or the whole almost dying bit.

Here’s hoping for a better 2019.

I hate being back here in the states. Absolutely nothing feels right.

I couldn’t get the feeling that I was escaping the US by being there on vacation. Everything has gotten so scary, the little reprieve of being in Berlin and Prague was just what the doctor ordered.

My first night in Berlin I went out to Woof Berlin just to find some happiness. At the bar I met Henrick who wondered how I could stand living in the States. He said as a form of therapy he was going to kiss me. I’m never one to turn down a kiss, therapeutic or not.

As his tongue entered I felt with it the spirit of European freedom allowing me to feel spiritually unclogged for the first time in a long time. I closed my eyes and took in all of him, feeling every hair on his arms as they carressed me, fishing down my pants to feel my cock, the touch of liberation.

That liberation was short lived. Now I’m back in the fear, the fight to get any little bit of sanity in my life, of trying to tune everything out but being force-fed everything bit of non-news. I feel absolutely swallowed whole by it. I want to make it stop, but it doesn’t go away.

I don’t want to be here.

Before seeing Diamanda Galás last week, I was trying to find ways to describe her. Some adjectives and nouns I used: avant-garde, scary, goth, blues, shrieking, banshee, wailing, mournful, strange. Nothing I said I felt conveyed adequately how Galás affects me. I mean, how do you describe this:

I didn’t convert anyone, but I didn’t really give a shit. I finally got to see her perform live, and that’s really all I care about. At the Palace Theater in DTLA, I sat staring at her Steinway waiting for her to come out. The lights come down, we all cheer in anticipation, and nothing. She waiting five minutes before finally emerging from stage left. What followed was 90 minutes of the most enthralling, rapturous, mournful and moving performances I have ever witnessed.

The Empty Piano

From her take on “La llorona” to the Supremes “My World Is Empty Without You” to “O Death” to “Pardon Me I’ve Got Someone to Kill” to an untitled Hank Williams song, her voice took me on an emotional journey that when she ended the night with “Let My People Go” I was a tearful mess. The eight legs of the devil were crawling up my spine, and as the lights went back up in the theater I couldn’t move.

I Put a Spell On You

All of us in the theater felt the same way as we gave her a standing ovation, not wanting to leave, wanting more and more as we realized that we had all survived the excesses of our youth. We had all had our fair share of mourning, and being the “different” people, the outsiders, this is how we commiserate.

This was the most moved I’ve ever been at a concert, and I’ll never forget it.

Marquee