I honestly have no idea where my desire to play drums came from. I can’t think of anything in particular that made me want to play drums. At the time, I didn’t even understand how music was made. I just remember walking with purpose into the living room and telling my dad that I wanted to play drums. My mom had been giving me piano lessons. Playing piano freaked me out, because I wanted to be good at at it. I wanted to be able to sit at a piano and play a piece, and just make you fall into tears. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I never wanted to play sports. I just wanted to move people. Sports seemed obviously competitive and stupidly redundant for my taste. My dad responded well to my interest in drums. Nothing like the soul sucking pounding drums. The first thing that happened is that my dad signed some school form which enabled me to receive a drum pad and sticks. I was in sixth grade. I spent that year learning basic drum lessons from the school, resulting in one performance on triangle during the winter concert. Once I moved on to 7th, 8th, and 9th grade, I started learning how to play a drum kit. My sunday school teacher gave me an old no name Japanese drum kit. He showed me how to play, and before I knew it, I was attempting Rush songs. By high school, I could play along with Smashing Pumpkins, The Pixies, you get the idea. This is a 17 year old attempting “experience.” What did I know about playing in front of such a big audience. The drums gave me purpose. When I graduated from high school, a week after, I left for Ipswich, Ma. I spent that year becoming 18, growing white dread locks, getting big hoop earrings, attempting feeding myself, learning to pay rent, being fucked with for being faggy, and playing with The Alexander Field. Also dreaming of tattoos began. That year was really difficult. I would fall asleep every night listening to the newly released Tori Amos song “Crucify” looking at the stars drowning in tears of religious suppression. I remember that an art dealer that my friend worked for told me that I should never listen to anyone telling me that I’m wasting my time with drums. So I’ve been playing music for a long time in various situations. When I’m playing drums, time has stopped. I’m in a fog of pure joy. I just don’t want it to end. It is the most clear cut, special place. I can’t imagine anything being that good. Tonight when I was cleaning up at work, I thought of Keith Moon, and how he wouldn’t have even been able to keep a job. He would’ve not showed up one day, or drank his way through a shift, resulting in getting fired. Playing drums killed him. I never thought that anything would come out of it for me, because sometimes to be honest, the dream of making music is harsh and sad in these times. It’s just not the same. When punk kids now talk shit on The Beatles, I just think, “Oh, you just have no idea about history or anything, do you, moron?” But I got to tour Europe before I was 40. Keith Moon was great because he made playing drums fun. There were pros and cons to his madness. His not giving a fuck inspires me, but as I mentioned, it definitely killed him. He was young when he got his start. They were inventing the rock n roll star. Maybe if I could just makes this all a bit more foggy, I could find some peace. But I strongly doubt it.

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