I thought that title was super witty last night when I used a paraphrase of it in a Twitch chat. Sitting here now though, I can’t think of shit all to say about it, so it obviously wasn’t that good or thought out. I’ve had this dope new keyboard for weeks and had the constant urge to actually try it out with a good dedicated typing session. But fuck. Butt fuck. I haven’t had much I’ve wanted to say on here. It was cool to come back and see the short spurt of writing I did in October got some views. I never actually expect anyone to read this so every single time I get a view I’m eggzcited.
I showed my grandma Lorena my blog recently for the first time. She liked it but said I needed to not cuss so much. I quoted one of my favourite Brother Ali lines, “Clean words couldn’t describe the sh*t I’ve seen.” She didn’t care how clever and well timed it was. Couldn’t deflect that away with the best defense mechanisms.
I try to send her songs that I actually just enjoy and she ends up hitting me with that grandma lifetalk and making me feel good about myself which ends up making me feel bad about myself. Especially on the good days. On the dark days my heart feels like it would break to get hit with that level of caring support and love.
One time I was lucky. I went to the Death Cab for Cutie show and bought myself a really really good ticket. Ok. So let’s be honest. I spend a stupid amount of my income on buying the best seats to every concert I want to actually see. I use this as a constant reference point if you’ve ever heard me talk about money: I’ve spent more on single concert tickets than I did for the title to my car.
Now let me qualify that: I suicide-towed my car home a few miles up Route 66 to my parents house where I rebuilt it. I’ve spent far more than I car to keep track of anymore. I have to replace the distributor again after 18 months. Had the thought of creating a section called “Diaries of a 30 year old Honda.”
Anyways, always buy the damn concert ticket.
I’ve had people ask me if I’m always listening to music. I always reply with more or less the same preplanned witty remark, “As much as possible.” (Tangent coming back around.)
DCFC show. Great seat. Grabbed a guitar pick that some lady didn’t even see landed under her purse a few rows ahead of me. There was only like 5 rows in front of me. I didn’t even remember the show until a few days before when I got the email. Drunk Dyllan would buy tickets and not know about it. That’s how I ended up at the Good Charlotte show. Spending many nights a week being able to shut down the local watering hole allowed me to make bad decisions.
DCFC show. Great Seat. Guitar pick. Buy the damn ticket.
That night Sabrina Benaim planned on having a reading of Depression and Other Magic Tricks. I fell into absolute mad infatuation with her performance of “Explaining My Depression to My Mother.” It came into my life during the dark days. And when I say dark, I mean so fucking horrible I tear up every time I start writing about them. Check it out if you want to watch something visceral about the mental health struggles our friends and family experience every day in silence. I remember showing it to an ex-girlfriend near the end of our relationship and got a very cold-shoulder response of non-caring. At the time I didn’t…couldn’t understand how the dynamic of our relationship worked from the other side. I have only recently started to discuss it more openly.
Years later.
Years of No-contact later.
DCFC. Seats. Pick. Tickets. Sabrina Benaim ended up cancelling her reading the afternoon of the day because the weather was pretty shit if I remember. Cold as fuck January 31 I want to say, but I cannot keep track of all the shows I’ve seen when many I attended drunk. I was as bummed as I was excited when I first heard her reading tour planned on going through Albuquerque as I couldn’t do both on the same night and time. Went to the show. Got the guitar pick. Left the Kiva Auditorium at the Convention Center and headed to my car. Lo and behold I actually ran into Sabrina Benaim.
I could not believe how much luck I had that night. I think she felt a similar level of surprise at someone recognizing a Canadian spoken-word poet in Albuquerque. Though we do have a extremely prolific writing history and community. Would not have this blog or inability to shut the fuck up if not for the teachers I had telling me to use the voice I had. I would like to blame and thank them every time I get in trouble for “being too direct” with my words. I’ll take that lash all day because my name will never be Toby.
Concert. Sabrina Benaim. (scrolling up to see what I was on about to begin this story.)
I guess that’s actually it. Here’s the link to the performance by Sabrina Benaim.
https://youtu.be/aqu4ezLQEUA
There. Go watch.
Stop reading.
Fuck off.
Now.
Go.
