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| The Handwritten Record. Photo: FBI. |
For more short stories and exercises in handwriting visit The Handwritten Record.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Well, come back.
Today I did something I haven't done in a long time. I went to church. The last time I can remember going to a church was back in July of 2011. It was a funeral. It was a funeral for a woman I did not even know. That's what I do out here in Los Angeles. I attend funerals for people I don't know. I hang out with people I don't know. I date people I don't know. I work with people I don't know. I live in a city that I do not know. Today I attended services at a church I did not know. As it turns out I was attending another funeral without even knowing it. I counted the heads of everyone in attendance. 8 members of the choir, a preacher, and 23 faithful servants, counting myself. Pretty grim numbers for a gigantic church on Wilshire Blvd. Is this the role religion plays in the city of Lost Angels? Is this all that's left? I soon learn that the church was sold on January 15th. This must be the transitional phase. Not the best Sunday to go for an inspirational message. When it comes time to meet and greet, I meet, greet and retreat right out the front door. I tried to come back to church. I never liked church to begin with. In fact, I despised going to church as a young man. Did I despise the message? No. Did I despise God? No. I despised the concept of the church in general. A church is a building. There are expenses connected to a church. A church is not a permanent structure. This church was even sold. When the walls come tumbling down, what's left? Nothing. Nothing but God. God is not confined to the walls of a church. There is no cost associated with God. God is there from beginning to end. I think I made the same statement about Love. Mathematically speaking I guess you could say that God is Love. As a matter of fact, people do say that. What else have I come back to that I knew wasn't working for ME? Alcohol. Keep coming back. Drugs. Keep coming back. Cigarettes. Keep coming back. Abusive relationships. Keep coming back. Skateboarding. I never channeled it as an art, it was an obsession. Keep coming back. Soccer. I hated soccer. Keep coming back. College. I never even wanted to go. I dropped out of engineering and got a degree in Math so I wouldn't have to keep coming back. All of these things made me angry but I kept coming back for more. I should by all rights be dead from living in Los Angeles the first time. I got away only to end up in another situation I really wasn't sold on in NYC. What did I do when things started falling apart in NYC? Moved right back to Los Angeles. Keep coming back. This is an extremely abusive pattern. This is the pattern of the obsessed. This is the story of my life. You want pain? Well, come back. You want misery? Well, come back. I started realizing that I just kept coming back to everything that was basically contributing to my self-destruction, a suicide mission, if you will. I also realized that at the end of every AA meeting, we end by saying, "Keep coming back." That's when it hit me. It's time to come back to something good for once. I think of what I've kept coming back for that still represents something good in my life. Writing, music, art, reading and God. That's what made me happy as a child. That's what remains after everything else is gone. I know now that those are the only things really worth coming back to. They are the only things I have committed to. They are the only things I love. Well, come back.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
The Aftermath
The word aftermath is defined as "a period of time after a disastrous event."
Aftermath is also defined as a "second growth or crop in the same season."
This is "The Aftermath."
In the city.
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| WS XV3. "Warriors, come out to play." Photo: FBI. |
Somewhere out there on that horizon
Out beyond the neon lights
I know there must be somethin' better
But there's nowhere else in sight
It's survival in the city
When you live from day to day
City streets don't have much pity
When you're down, that's where you'll stay
I was born here in the city
With my back against the wall
Nothing grows, and life ain't very pretty
No one's there to catch you when you fall
Somewhere out on that horizon
Faraway from the neon sky
I know there must be somethin' better
And I can't stay another night
Friday, February 17, 2012
Warning: adult situations.
See Also: Lovage: Music to Make Love to Your Old Lady By - Dan The Automator
Somebody trying to tell me something here?
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| Addicted. Photo: FBI. |
I moved back to Los Angeles from Brooklyn a couple of years ago and shipped everything I had through the post office. All I had was a bunch of records, 2 turntables and a bicycle. Oh yeah, I had a stack of Dickies and some T-shirts. I found a tiny little place in the middle of Koreatown and that's where I started over. After about a week of living in my new shoebox I started to notice that things would magically show up on my doorstep. These just so happened to be things I needed. Office supplies. A chair. A reading light. Books on subjects that I had interest in. It got to the point where I couldn't wait to see what would show up. In exchange for what I had received, I would leave whatever I didn't need in the same place. Whatever I left typically didn't last long either! As time went on, things stopped showing up. A couple of weeks before I was arrested I left a pair of shoes and a Superfly record out on the steps. They were gone in minutes. After I got out of jail and started to reconsider the role that alcohol played in my life, I left a brand new bottle of wine that a friend had given me out on the steps. As expected, this didn't last long either. On my way home the other day I went to check my mailbox and decided to go by the apartment's "community table" just to see what might be there for the taking. I saw a little red book sitting all alone. "Growing up Addicted." One could easily say that "everything happens for a reason." I recently learned that coincidence has an alternative defintion. Coincidence is God's way of remaining anonymous. Think about that the next time something happens to you by "coincidence."
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Ready to LIVE LIFE BEFORE DEATH
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| Ready or not, here I come. Photo by myself. |
I originally made this mix as a tribute to Notorious B.I.G. and the artists that were sampled on "Ready to Die" and "Life After Death." I just realized that I posted it last year on my father's birthday. He was 69. Less than a year later, he went in for a pre-screening for an upcoming knee surgery. The doctor performed a heart catheterization and discovered that he had 95% blockage in 5 arteries. They were amazed that he was even alive and as a result of the blockage they actually had to use the defibrillator to stabilize him. By the grace of God I was able to find a flight from Los Angeles that evening and arrive back home to see him just 15 minutes before he was admitted for emergency heart surgery the following morning. He had quadruple bypass surgery and within a week he was back home. They say that near death situations such as this often change one's outlook on life, if they survive. It's a second chance to get things right. I have survived so many head injuries and literally "Seen the Light" so many times that I don't even understand why I am still here today, especially after being in involved in yet another "Life Changer." The one thing I do know is that I am still here and I can't afford to play the blind man any longer. We are not guaranteed anything beyond the now. Get things right with yourself and others while you have a chance. We are all lucky to be here and should never take that fact for granted. Get "Ready to Live Life Before Death." For more free mixes check out FBI Radio.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Well, come to Hell.
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| Well? Artwork by Frank Brown. |
"It's been a rough couple of weeks." I take that back, it's been a rough decade. I moved to Los Angeles 10 years ago. I ran as far away as I could from home. I ran so far I eventually ran into myself. After my DUI arrest I was ordered to attend 6 AA meetings. I've been to 16. I am an alcoholic. I never had a drink until the age of 26. That was the year I moved to Los Angeles. That was the year I resorted to alcohol to deal with the loss of the woman I thought I loved. I've learned that I was really dealing with the loss of myself. I was an alcoholic from the day I was born. It took one traumatic event to introduce me to the beast that hid under the surface for so many years. He was there and he wanted a drink. He manifested himself through anger and self-hate until he got that drink and then he proceeded to destroy me once he got that first taste. "Why are you so intense?" "Why do you take things so seriously?" "Why are you so obsessed about everything?" Answer: I have a an allergy of the body coupled with an obsession of the mind. It doesn't matter what I do, it will always be intense. That is who I am. My only chance for survival is to channel this obsessiveness towards activities that are not self destructive. I recorded this mix a year ago to express how I felt when "Love" was lost. Since that time, it happened again. Alcoholism can drive you to the depths of insanity, if you let it. The first step is to become aware. "Well, come to Hell." This is as honest as it gets. Visit FBI RADIO for more...
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Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Who's really happy about VD anyway?
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| Heart-shaped cookies. Photo: FBI. |
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| Love. Artwork by Frank Brown. |
Valentine's Day is pretty much a crock. Love is real. Love will be around when the flowers have died and the candy is gone. Love will be there long after you've paid off your credit card, plus interest, for that special day of the year we express our "love" to each other. This year I'm giving my "Love" away for free. Take it or leave it. Enjoy the mix below and check out www.FBIRadioLA.com for more free music mixes. No strings attached.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
DUI or Try Dyin'?
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| Take note of "The Signs." Photo: FBI. |
On January 19, 2012, I started pulling records for a new set to deal with a relationship that I feared was slipping away. The following morning my fears became reality and it was all over. Little did I know that just 24 hours later I would be sitting in a South Central Los Angeles jail on DUI charges with no way to post bail on a $100,000 bond. Four days of jail and 104 hours of community service later (Yes, I completed my community service within 2 weeks of being released from jail) I went back to the stack of records I had pulled and recorded them in the order they were originally chosen to hear the message I was trying to send myself before the shit hit the fan. Sometimes it pays to listen to yourself. Take note of "The Signs" even during the worst of times. Well, come to Los Angeles.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
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