christ666's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A Tale From An Un-RockStar I learned to drive a car with manual transmission from an abuser of crack. Among many of the stories I have from being a tag along with musicians, I remember being 14 and idolizing two brothers from Middleton who joined my small band and opened me up to a world of pseudo-rebellion. Daniel was 19, and Rob was 20 at the time, but they might as well have been "men" amongst boys. As I type this, I can sense the homoerotic overtones and I'm 99% sure there weren't any. It was hanging out with the older kids, something I never got to experience with my small group of friends in school. It was myself, Shawn, and James up to that point. We had already chosen the name Skapegote for our band moniker, and after playing with different people of the course of a year, we tried putting up a flier at the local American Music store to bait any potential musicians who might join. The first and only response were the Bale brothers. Rob boasted of his little brothers screaming voice, claiming it was better than Corey Taylor's from Slipknot, THE band for our immature metal tastes. We met up at their parents house, plugged into their gear consisting of old amps and a red drumset that was combined with Shawn's own kit. We wrote a song that night, and like any time a new band gets together, we were all in a state of euphoria. It was during this time that I was about to take Drivers Ed. Now, I had driven my grandfather's car before, so I wasn't much of a stranger to the concept of driving. But, I was unfamiliar with stick shift and always thought it would be an essential skill to have. Rob and Daniel drove in a white Geo Metro that used to fit all five of us on our weekend trips to Boise to loiter at the mall or steal drinks from the Cheveron that Rob worked at. After stopping at an Albertsons, Rob suggested I try driving the car. The first attempt was a fail, natch, but that didn't discourage Rob from instructing me on what to do. He told me half and half: let go of the clutch halfway and begin accelerating with the gas pedal half way. And like clockwork, I knew how to do it. Granted, half and half isn't really the ideal way to learn, and it was a little choppy driving out of the parking lot. But he taught me something that I'll have with me for the rest of my life. Rob is an interesting character. I looked up to him the most. He didn't seem to be full of all the bullshit that his brother would exude. I mean, they were both nice guys, but there's a thing about lead singers and certain musicians that carry an ego and sense of knowledge and wisdom that doesn't quite match the resume. Rob was pretty straight to the point. He said what was on his mind most of the time, and he looked like a badass. To us kids, he was 8 feet tall and kick the shit out of anyone who fucked with us. We played a show at the county fair, one year, and during the day waiting around for our set, I caused a confrontation to explode. I saw a girl I went to school with and she chatted with Shawn and I for a small amount of time. I noticed she was with a girl that I didn't particularly like. I seemed to have this idea that she looked down on me, even though I never had any, ANY, interaction with her. I fucked up pretty bad on this one. Regardless, I told this girl that the friend she was with was a bitch. Half an hour later, this friend approaches me and confronts me. I tell her a line of bullshit that she was rude and treated me like shit (not true), to which she rightfully claimed she doesn't even know me. Enter her boyfriend who wants to kick my ass. Obviously, I had absolutely zero courage to suffer an assbeating from this skinny, white trash fucktard who wants to pick a fight and impress his minor girlfriend. We always figured Rob was the muscle. That was also visually clear considering our group of four short skinny fucks, and this tall, beefy scary looking dude. But, I digress. When the threats from boydouche come at me, the four of us look at Rob to see what his reaction is. Boydouche notices this and immediately starts taunting him. "I'll fucking drop you. You want to start?" I remember this pretty clearly, because I thought it was so money. Rob looks at him, shrugs his shoulders and says, "I've got a show to play, son." Didn't flinch, didn't show any emotion, other than the clear dismissal of fucks he could give. The guy eventually trots away and we joke about what Rob could have done to that guy. He was a hero. Unfortunately, this veil of admiration was gradually removed after he was frequently absent from band practices and hangouts. Turned out he was full of bullshit, though it wasn't as apparent as Daniel's was. He say one thing, and do another, as was his right as a human being. But one day, we discovered the remains of smoked crack scattered atop a cymbal of Shawn's, and another day we find out he was arrested for drug related issues. A lot of our interactions with Rob dissipated after that, and I haven't seen him in almost ten years. But it doesn't stop me from remembering fondly of a moment that him and I shared (not gay) and being thankful for the life lesson his taught me. 12:35 a.m. - 2013-04-27 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||