In my mind there’s a little box, and in this box lives a world of memories from a particular era. 2015 and 2016 were significant years for me, as they were for many people for different reasons. Sometimes I lift the lid of this box and catch a glimpse of something sweet, something romantic.
But I must say that most of the sights and smells of this era are best kept tucked away. It’s just too painful to think about, and I’ve done a good job of moving on. However, the cost of keeping this box closed is that most people I meet now never fully get to know me. Once upon a time I was okay with that. I didn’t really care to make new friends, and I thought I was perfectly fine in my protective bubble of emotional distance.
If the smell of marijuana comes to your nose while reading this, or the taste of alcohol to your tongue, I do apologize. I would be lying if I said these substances (and many more) were not at play in this story.
As someone who’s been sober for quite some time now, I by no means wish to glorify the subject of drug use, and a fair warning to you all: Many of the people in this story die. I only wish I had someone guiding me in the right direction at that time.
I’ll admit that some of these memories are a little hazy. Maybe I’ve imagined a few things! All I know is that once this box is opened, it may take awhile to close it up again…
‘Twas on the Northwest side of Grand Rapids, Michigan that I lived with my mom and stepdad. A twenty year old basement dweller was I, who only came out at night, and whose top priority in life was the success of his band, Gibbet. Named after the torture device that held condemned criminals in a cage in the public square to be ridiculed, Gibbet was the platform on which I bared my heart and soul.
My second priority in life was partying with my group of friends, who had become more and more like a dysfunctional family. Unfortunately, I was confused enough at the time to think that the debauchery we committed together had a positive effect on my music.
I know I was enrolled at the Grand Rapids Community College, a stipulation set by my mom that allowed me to remain living at home, but I can’t recall what I actually did there besides write lyrics during class. Ironically, I was supposed to be working on a Criminal Justice certificate in the area of Addiction Studies.
In 2015, Gibbet was beginning to reach new creative heights. The general atmosphere of the songs was procured by my inseparable best friend JD, while I was in charge of writing the lyrics, singing, and playing guitar. We began recording a demo album on a digital 8-track in my mom’s basement called Stroboscopic Fantasy. The new songs we showed our friends at gatherings actually garnered some respect, when before we had mostly been made fun of. We always loved what we did even when others didn’t, but now that other people were starting to see what we saw in ourselves, I was all the more confident. No matter how dark and chaotic the partying got with my friends, I always had music at the forefront of my mind. Perhaps it was a gift from God that saved my life, but more on that later.
Summer had finally arrived, and it was time for the annual trip to Lake Michigan with JD’s family, of which I was an honorary member. We always stayed right on the beach in the biggest house on the street. What was also exciting, and equally nerve-wracking, was that the annual lakeshore trip meant that JD and I got to spend time with his famous uncle, Red Hot Chili Peppers singer, Anthony Kiedis.
My friendship with JD long preceded my RHCP fandom, and it was actually JD himself who introduced me to By The Way and Stadium Arcadium, two albums that completely changed my world.
I first met Anthony at the Van Andel Arena in Grand Rapids before a Chili Peppers show. I was with JD and his family, and Anthony came into the room pushing an elderly relative in a wheelchair. As much as I’d like to say I played it cool, I was quite visibly nervous. I was just a high school freshman, and I had no idea how much this relationship would eventually shape my future.
By this time, I had already read Anthony’s book, Scar Tissue, and had unconsciously made it a sort of Bible in my mind. As a kid with no religious background or moral framework, Scar Tissue became my guide on how to do whatever I wanted, and it gave me faith that, no matter what I did, I would become successful beyond my wildest dreams. On top of that, Anthony’s physical presence in my life gave me something more to model. I began affecting a kind of straight-faced alpha attitude, and walked around with perfect posture, all of which completely fell apart when I actually came face to face with the man I was trying to emulate. By the time I was 20 years old, I had met most of my musical idols, but no matter how many interactions I had with Anthony, it was a rare moment when I was actually calm.
I definitely wasn’t calm on this particular family vacation, because JD and I were about to show Anthony our most recent batch of songs. Joined by a few younger cousins, we piled into a giant SUV on our way to a fancy dinner, and handed AK our demo CD. It was a beautiful day on the lakeshore as we cruised slowly down the sandy street, sun shining, waves waving. I was quite nervous as the first song on Stroboscopic Fantasy played. All I wanted was to please the person who I looked up to the most, and the anticipation of his reaction had me on the edge of my seat. But when the song ended I was soon put at ease by what Anthony said:
“That song was an A+. If you pursue this, I guarantee you will have success.”
JD and I spent the remaining trip driving the rented family golf cart all across town, and charging people for rides to and from the beach. One night, we were in the golf cart on an innocent ice cream run, minding our own business, when we were pulled over by not one, but two police officers! We tried to bargain with them to allow us to move on, but they were not amused with the two 20 year old boys who stood before them, and I’m sure the red satin kimono I was wearing wasn’t very persuasive. I don’t really remember what happened after that, and it doesn’t really matter. All I know is that we had a lot of fun.
I hear echoes of influences you grew up with in your writing Adrian. It hits just as does most everything your mother writes. Which I trust you will find as a comiment. I have always been been a fan of hers. Yet I also hear your own voice coming through. Well done, well written. I became a bit of a fan when your dad shared the Gibbet material with me. It made me a bit envious that I was not where you were creatively when I was in my early twenties. I feel what I have read here is genuine and it will continue to become even more so as you keep moving forward. The key is to keep moving forward even if it feels like you're in reverse Well done Adrian!!!
I can’t wait for the next entry. I want to know more about what’s behind that “protective bubble of emotional distance.” 😊