Boobie Tassels For Buddha

When I'm getting to know someone, one of the first questions I ask or perhaps one of the first things I check out on an internet profile concerns music. Quickest way to turn me off? Tell me, "oh, I listen to everything." Really? Do you? You listen to gospel and grindcore and country and hip hop and sludge metal? The confused look on your face tells me you have no idea what I'm talking about. I usually attempt to ask if that person has any favorites...favorite band or singer or song or album or anything. That response isn't usually too encouraging either. To me, it means you probably haven't vested that much interest in music and might as well be dead.

Music is life.

I learned that whole deal at an early age thanks to my dad. You know, he wasn't the easiest person to live with...certainly to be raised by. He was way too into drinking and drugs. His temper was wickedly short....to put it mildly. I don't think he was really cut out for fatherhood. He died 3 years ago. Cancer. And actually, he would have celebrated his birthday just a couple days ago, so of course, he's been on my mind. We weren't close but it was still a big loss. I held a lot of resentment towards him for not really having a childhood. I mean, going to court at 3 because your daddy was arrested for distribution of cocaine isn't exactly keeping up a stable environment conducive to child raising. After I found out he was sick and even after he died, I had the desire to let all that go. Why hold on to it? It certainly wasn't doing me any good. I just really had no idea how the fuck I was going to do that.

Gradually, it happened. I've gone through a lot of changes of my own in the last couple of years... alot had to do with a musical evolution that started with a suggestion to listen to Baroness. Music...music I like anyway...means a fuckload to me. Elevates my moods. Harmonizes my emotions. Frees my spirit. Somewhere along my evolutionary road, I began to realize that Dad taught me all that. I can picture him clearly singing along to Don Henley's (from The Eagles) The Heart of the Matter. "I've been trying to get down to the heart of the matter. But my will gets weak and my thoughts seem to scatter. But I think it's about forgiveness. Forgiveness. Even if, even if you don't love me anymore." He'd turn it up on that part when he'd have company over and tell them to listen to that shit closely. It's a good song. I can still sing along to most of it even now. And of course, Eric Clapton's "Cocaine" could get him laughing and fist pumping like a champ...crazy old fuck. He introduced me to some greats. Janis, Jimi, the Allman Brothers, the Stones, Zeppelin, Cream, Bread, Foghat, the Eagles...Hotel California still gets my hips moving, like it or not, fuckers..., the Doobie Brothers, Charlie Daniels (stfu), and more, more, more. Dad knew his shit and it makes me smile to think back to him laughing, smiling, even tearing up over songs. I got my love of sharing music from him, too. I don't remember much about growing up....side effect of a fucked up childhood...but I do remember him making people listen to the different songs he loved and keying them in on the best parts while they had their drinks and whatever else may have been on the menu that day.

Dad,

I would be much less of a woman if it weren't for you teaching me how much music could mean...how much it could move you and connect you to others. Thank you. It is about forgiveness, isn't it? I love you, you crazy sonofabitch.

always,

j