Spank Thru

As a followup to my previous post, I dug up old footage of myself performing a Kurt Cobain impression when I was 17 years old in my bedroom.  There wasn’t much to do in regards to entertainment while growing up out in the sticks, so Baby Bro and I often made our own.  Baby Bro recorded my antics.  My bestest furry feline friend, Fidget Whiskas Andrew, First of His Name, May He Never Be Forgotten…performed purrrcusion (See what I did there?!)

So, goose your neck around and take a gander.

I swear I was sober at the time.  I was probably overly exhausted.

Oh, and I acquired some Coke today…to go with that rum.

Happy 4th, ‘Merica!

Beat Me Outta Me

So, it’s the long weekend.  I’ve been trying to get lackey friends to acquire Coke for me…so I can mix it with the rum that’s been sitting in my fridge (HA! Faked you out.).  I’m not fond of any of the beer Dude fellows left behind.  The alcohol content isn’t sufficient for the amount of pain and writing I want to get through tonight.  I think I’ve satiated my thirst by making a big ass chocolate chip pancake.  Cleaning off the keyboard later will provide much tedious fun of the cleaning nature.

I won’t lie.  I’m working through a breakup…or “break.”  I’m of the mind there’s no fucking difference, but so long as both inspire writing, I’ll trek through the briar patch.  It sure as Hell isn’t the first trek, but so help me, Judas Priest, it better be the last time.  I’m madly in love with the man, and he still feels much love for me, but life as an adult gets complicated in ways younger couples don’t understand.

I’m channeling Kurt Cobain tonight.  The man experienced more emotional and physical pain than I have room to bitch about, and his guitarage skills even in death far surpass my own, despite the simplicity.  Don’t mistake ease with simplicity.  They are not one and the same.  The abstract yet straightforward lyrics…I need to experience a whole other state of mind in order to replicate such composition.

Ever since I could remember I listened to Nirvana.  I realized who they were when I was 5 years old receiving cancer treatment in the Winter/Spring of 1994.  They made that one catchy song about teens and spirit, to which no one could understand the lyrics.  Soon after I learned about the band, Kurt committed suicide.  I don’t recall if I possessed a complete understanding of death at the time, but I knew many Rock lovers felt devastation by the loss.  Now that I’m 27, I’m chilled by the notion of quickly rising to stardom only to throw your whole life away…or in his eyes, experience such draining pain on all fronts to the point of seeking final relief…even leaving his daughter behind.  God, I can’t imagine having kids or a family of my own right now.  I can’t imagine abandoning them.

I can’t imagine being worth millions of dollars just from writing and playing the right combination of chords and lyrics.  Or feeling the pressure of representing the angst of a generation.

My heartbreak pales in comparison…though it still doesn’t hurt any less.



2001 Wilton Center Elementary Talent Show.  I was 12 (guess who I am).  Mom and Dad just bought me my first electric guitar–a Kurt Cobain blue Squier Strat.  We performed Weird Al’s parody “Smells Like Nirvana.”  My baby brother throws up a grungy peace sign.

Come As You Are…Pt. 2

I’ve waited long enough to formally introduce myself.

I’m Breezer.  

No, that’s not my birth name.  I’m 27 years old…which is relevant if you’re a fellow rockstar reading this blog.

Since I can remember, music pervaded my life.  As an infant, I would not sleep unless Judas Priest caressed my ears.  I regularly untuned my father’s 70’s era Fender Stratocaster as a toddler.  I danced to Alice Cooper’s “Poison” music video at my Second Birthday party while donning a favorite frilly blue dress.  I survived the 90’s N*SYNC/Backstreet era as the weird nerd who religiously listened to Aerosmith on my Walkman.  Bach chorales trained my fingers to play instruments. Choir refined vocals.  Show Choir brought out the performance artist.  DrumMajor duties in high school marching band disciplined my leadership skills.  Musical tunes brought sanctuary in the high school auditorium.  Marilyn Manson saw me through the tears and sleepless nights of my Undergrad years.

Finally, after too long…the opportunity to create presents itself.

This blog will be many things to you, the audience..a place for me to share band updates, new experiences and revelations, eclectic fashion choices, inspiring lyrics…a safe haven for all to be our best selves.

This is my life as a Rockstar

…And I Swear that I Don’t Have A Gun.