It’s Not So Hard to Die

You can’t take it with you, he said to me.

I know. I know. I replied.

But if there was just one thing you COULD take with you after this life, what would it be? He had a giddy smile on his face.

Love, perhaps, I said. Or maybe the memory of my impending death. I had suffered from blood cancer for years and finally sensed my time was near. People kept asking me what I thought of an afterlife. I didn’t. I tried not to. It’s not for lack of an interest in it, though. I had wanted to know what happened to us for a long time, but realized it was fruitless. And in the end (no pun intended), what did it matter? Dead was dead. Why did we spend so much time worrying about death?

What about you? I asked. What would you take with you?

Hugs, he said. I love hugs. Whether it’s from children or old people or even dogs, I love me some hugs, he said, smiling.

Really? I asked.

Yes, really. It’s something so simple and yet it makes me feel so warm and loved. I can only hope that in the life after this, I will find all my loved ones and we can spend a lot of time hugging. And I will be in absolute bliss.

That sounds nice, I said. For you, I mean. I don’t like hugs so much. It seems as though people are always trying to hug and it’s just too much, in my opinion. I produced a weak smile. Lying in my bed, waiting for hospice care to arrive. My friend took my hand.

You’re going to be okay. Even in death, I know you’ll be okay.

I know, I said. I’m not too worried about it. I mean, what can I do? Things are what they are. Actually, I’ll tell you a secret. Something I really haven’t shared with anyone, at least not recently. Not since I got my diagnosis.

Okay. What is it?

I’ve wanted to die most of my life. Not in a depressed, suicidal manner, but in the sense that there’s not much that has made this life worth living.

Wow, man, that’s sad, he said, frowning.

Nah, it’s not too bad. I mean, I’ve always dealt with anxiety and depression and most of the time the conflict in my mind of trying to figure out what my purpose has been just got me down. I was looking forward to a time when I wouldn’t have to feel that struggle so much within me.

Has it really been that bad? he asked. So much so that you don’t want to be alive?

I dunno. Life has just seemed boring and worthless in many ways.

Yeah, but you have to make it worthwhile and fun. You’re responsible for that. It’s your life—you might as well live it to the fullest.

I suppose so, but so many times I was just held back by my fear, by my need to make a living and have insurance to pay for medication—especially lately. I knew I needed the stability of every day life and a routine in order to not lose my mind.

This all is kind of sad. Well, not kind of sad. It is sad.

Yeah, I realize it can appear that way, but it’s my life. I’ve tried to find ways to make it acceptable to me as much of the time as I can. Little joys and things that make me happy. I’m not sure what to make of things.

I know you don’t think it’s this way, but I’m sorry to hear all this.

Meh, you get used to it.

I suppose so, he said. But it doesn’t make it any more palatable. I can’t imagine living my life like that. He reached out and took my hand and squeezed it. I love you, buddy. I don’t want you to be sad. His eyes started to tear up. We all love you so much.

I know, I said. And I love you all too. Listen, I’m thankful for all of you and for everything everyone has done for me. I want you to know that. Just because I’m not enthusiastic about life doesn’t mean I don’t care about certain people. I just wish I had had the ability to explore things more. I wish I hadn’t been so constricted by certain rules and my own fears. I also wish I had chosen a better major in college, I said, laughing. English degrees just weren’t what they used to be. I squeezed his hand and said, Everything will be okay, Jim. Don’t worry. Death is natural. It’s just as natural as being born. You all will be able to go on without me. I know it’s not easy but we just do the best we can when we’re handed moments like these. I know you’ll be strong and so will Julia and life will go on. Just remember the good times and how much better you made my otherwise emotionally miserable life. I said this last part sarcastically, knowing that my life had actually been great, it was just that my emotional and mental health had never been entirely up to par.

I know. I know, Jim said. But it doesn’t make things any easier.

Nor should it. And listen, I know it’s hard for you to understand my disinterest in living and if you could keep that to yourself, I would appreciate it. At least until after I’m dead. Then obviously, you can do whatever you want. I flashed a brief smile. I don’t know how to explain it or if I even can. I guess when you come so close to death like I have in the past (I had had a pretty serious suicide attempt in college) it really changes how you approach life. And you begin to realize that yes, life is precious, but you also realize how much suffering there is, and how much it would be better to just let it all go and leave it all behind. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but I do know that all I want is some peace and a change from what occurs here. Thankfully I don’t believe in a hell, so I’ve been able to erase that from my realm of possibilities, but who knows what may come?

True, Jim said. True, he repeated softly. Well listen Frank, I love you man. I’m sorry life hasn’t always been pleasant for you, but Julia and I still love you a great deal. I need to get going home for dinner and you probably need some rest, so I will get going. Let me know if I can do anything for you, though.

Will do, I said. But I have a feeling the end can’t be too much further away. And I’m okay with that, I said, smiling in confidence.

hospice


An interview with Rise Against

From the years 2000 to 2002 I ran an online zine, Actionattackhelicopter, along with my friends, Brian and Josh. I was fortunate to interview many musicians whose work I enjoyed. I’m posting some of those interviews here for anyone who may have missed them the first time. They have been edited for length, relevance, and to correct for my poor editing skills at the time of original publication. Keep in mind that these were done over ten years ago, thus individuals’ opinions, thoughts, and ideas may no longer be relevant, but they are still interesting as a snapshot of a particular time and place.

This interview was originally published in July 2001.

It’s normally my policy to do interviews one on one, but Jeremiah really enjoyed seeing Rise Against, so he talked me into doing a tag team interview with them after their show at Higher Grounds Coffee in South Bend, Indiana, on some Saturday back in May. I wasn’t totally sure I was going to attend the show, nor was I positive I wanted to do the interview, but upon further reflection I’m glad I did both. Rise Against’s album The Unraveling is out now on Fat Wreck Chords and is a mighty fine piece of punk rock. I would suggest checking it out if you get the chance. Until then, enjoy this interview, which took place with Tim, the singer. Later on, Joe, the bassist, joined in on the fracas.

Tim from Rise Against Continue reading


The Hospital

I chased Andy down the block—down the hill—as my bare feet slammed the asphalt with each step. I passed the houses in my neighborhood in a blur. So determined to say goodbye, I feared he was going to say goodbye to everything else as well. He had already been in the hospital once this year and I was scared this might put him back in again.

I cried out, “Wait! Wait!” Andy stopped mid-stride, turned and looked at me as I came up to him, panting. I knew we were done but didn’t know how to tell him that I was confused and worried. Both for myself and for him. He had always had a relationship with the darker nature of things—a casual friendship with death.

We stood facing one another and all I could do was think about how sorry I was that things climaxed as they did and how bad my soles hurt from running so hard on the asphalt. There hadn’t been any time for shoes after he left abruptly. I had to say my goodbyes—my final goodbyes. At that time, I had no idea if I would never see him again. In the end there was nothing I could do. Helpless, we stood face to face on the sidewalk, under a cherry tree, the fruit still tiny.

Andy said his eyes hurt. I nodded in agreement. My lower eyelids burned each time I blinked. Salt in the wound. The end of things, things being torn apart. All weekend we had spent bawling, wracked in sobs at their disintegration. I feared him coming apart again, touched his arm, hugged him close—I didn’t want to let him go. But he said he had to go. He felt the pull of the hospital again. He needed to be in a safe place.

Days had passed and I had heard nothing. I spoke with my friends and tried to pull myself together. What could I do? I had no idea where Andy was and all I could do was worry. He had said he was going back to the hospital, but I didn’t know which one. I wondered if this was a punishment from him—one last way for him to have the upper hand in the relationship.

My roommate, my friends—they all gave me advice. He’s no good. End it. Or, he’s a great guy and you really care about him. Give him another chance.

Five days later Andy emerged with a voicemail message that declared his existence. I only noticed that it arrived hours later and then hurriedly returned the call, apologizing for not seeing it earlier. I was concerned and worried about him. We talked for hours. He told me what had happened and where he had been. We talked about our relationship. But finally it got down to the heart of the matter. He wanted to know what I thought about us and if we had a future. He said he wasn’t expecting anything but I believed he held out a little hope. Once again he left the ball in my court. He did that so often, much to my chagrin.

I was indecisive about the issue, told him what my friends had said. I indicated my own confusion, and finally he told me that he was sure it wasn’t going to work out.

“If you knew you wanted to be with me, you would say so,” Andy said. I was hesitant though. I thought that perhaps we had a good thing. He had been so caring and loving during our time together—but the depression and suicide; I didn’t know if I could handle it anymore.

“You’re the perfect catch,” I said, with no sense of sarcasm in my voice. “But something just doesn’t seem right. I feel like my feelings aren’t there like they should be.” I felt bad saying this after all that had happened in the past week: the break-up, his disappearance and reemergence.

There was nothing more to say or do. I asked if we couldn’t still stay friends but he replied that it would be too hard.

“I’d always think we might get back together. I’m sorry. I can’t put myself through that.” That hurt—Andy had always had a good relationship with his other exes. Why not me?

I couldn’t believe how maturely the whole thing had gone down, though. There was no yelling or name-calling. It was like the end of a business arrangement. I was sure that if we were doing this in person there would be handshakes. Had traditions continued throughout the decades, he might have even doffed a cap at me while I curtsied.

This time there were tears, both from Andy and I. No bawling, just sadness that it had come to this. A dull ache in the chest and singular, gentle tears that traced invisible lines down our cheeks. At one point he said to me, “Despite what you might think, this has been good for me.” I admitted as much, too. Even with this ending, I had learned so much and felt myself mature and grow.

A long, dry pause and finally he said to me in a sincere yet somber tone, “It’s been nice knowing you. Goodbye, Mary.”

“It’s been good knowing you too, Andy. Goodbye.”

I hung up the phone.

hospital1


An interview with Mike Kinsella

From the years 2000 to 2002 I ran an online zine, Actionattackhelicopter, along with my friends, Brian and Josh. I was fortunate to interview many musicians whose work I enjoyed. I’m posting some of those interviews here for anyone who may have missed them the first time. They have been edited for length, relevance, and to correct for my poor editing skills at the time of original publication. Keep in mind that these were done over ten years ago, thus individuals’ opinions, thoughts, and ideas may no longer be relevant, but they are still interesting as a snapshot of a particular time and place.

I released The Rutabega/Owen split EP in 2002 and then when I realized running a record label was a horrible idea, I gave permission to Polyvinyl Records to re-release it. I still think that the EP comprises the best (or at least my favorite) material of each artist.

This interview was originally published in December 2001.

As always, I hate doing email interviews, but Mike Kinsella (aka Owen) did a damn fine job with his responses. I mean, god, the guy admits to wanting to be a girl. You can’t get much better responses than that. That being said, Mike Kinsella has a pretty stellar indie rock music background, having played in Cap’n Jazz, Joan of Arc, American Football, and his latest endeavor, Owls. However, Owen is his baby; the project he’s been working on for quite some time, tucked away in his little home studio laying down vocals and instrumental tracks. Out pops a nine-song release reminiscent of American Football type material, but a little more structured and knowledgeable. I emailed Mike about Owen as well as family relations and other things. Read on, please.

Owen2

Continue reading


It’s a Good Belt

After
testing its strength and
durability one
January afternoon
twelve years ago in a
quiet apartment, it
never once
emerged from hanging in my
closet except for moves across
country and the
time it hung in one
triple-decker and then
another. It’s a good

belt, I said to myself. There’s some

life in it yet.

I wanted to hang on to it, but
she
convinced me it was
time to let it
go. And so I

gave it away for someone
else to hang on to.
Perhaps for

function, or
perhaps to do with it what I couldn’t
finish.

hanging belts


An interview with Mark Kozelek

From the years 2000 to 2002 I ran an online zine, Actionattackhelicopter, along with my friends, Brian and Josh. I was fortunate to interview many musicians whose work I enjoyed. I’m posting some of those interviews here for anyone who may have missed them the first time. They have been edited for length, relevance, and to correct for my poor editing skills at the time of original publication. Keep in mind that these were done over ten years ago, thus individuals’ opinions, thoughts, and ideas may no longer be relevant, but they are still interesting as a snapshot of a particular time and place.

This interview was originally published in autumn 2000.

Mark Kozelek’s music is something that I have listened to for quite some time now. Whether it be his extensive work with Red House Painters or his recently released solo project, I have been constantly intrigued by his songs—even if it is something as simple as his ability to play the same notes over and over again and yet make them incredibly heartbreaking (“San Geronimo,” “Silly Love Songs”). From what I had read and heard of Kozelek, he’s not had an easy life. Lots of heartbreak (too many songs to list), lots of strained friendships (“Michael”), and lots of distress from life in general (“24”). It could be said that Kozelek is an everyman, for we all seem to struggle with such problems, yet not every man gets the opportunity to do such things as work with Cameron Crowe on a movie or put together a tribute album for one of America’s famed folk singers. Nevertheless, there is a part of Kozelek that I can identify with: his struggles with romance and depression. We talked about all of these things one afternoon as Mark took a bath.

Mark-Kozelek Continue reading


New Razorcake Podcast is now up!

You can find it here.

The theme are bands whose singers passed away (or solo artists that passed away). Inspired by the late, great Jason Molina.

Tracklisting:
Dead Boys, “Sonic Reducer” (Young Loud and Snotty)

Wesley Willis, “Cut the Mullet” (Greatest Hits Vol. 2)
Cramps, “Human Fly” (Gravest Hits)
The Ramones, “Suzy Is a Headbanger” (Leave Home)
Johnny Cash & Carl Perkins, “Everybody’s Trying to Be My Baby” (Unearthed II: Trouble in Mind)

Flipper, “Sacrifice” (Not So Quiet on the Western Front compilation)
Boilermaker, “Thinner Runs Through Her” (Leucadia)
Jay Reatard, “We Who Wait” (Blood Visions)
Joy Division, “Transmission” (Substance 1977-1980)
The Heartbreakers, “Born to Lose” (L.A.M.F.)

Magnolia Electric Co., “The Dark Don’t Hide It” (Trials and Errors)


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 74 other followers