Song Meanings: The Mountain Goats "No Children"

The Mountain Goats "No Children"

I hope that our few remaining friends
Give up on trying to save us
I hope we come out with a fail-safe plot
To piss off the dumb few that forgave us

I hope the fences we mended
Fall down beneath their own weight
And I hope we hang on past the last exit
I hope it's already too late

And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here
Someday burns down
And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away
And I never come back to this town again in my life

I hope I lie
And tell everyone you were a good wife
And I hope you die
I hope we both die

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow
I hope it bleeds all day long
Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises
We're pretty sure they're all wrong

I hope it stays dark forever
I hope the worst isn't over
And I hope you blink before I do
And I hope I never get sober

And I hope when you think of me years down the line
You can't find one good thing to say
And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out
You'd stay the hell out of my way

I am drowning
There is no sign of land
You are coming down with me
Hand in unlovable hand

And I hope you die
I hope we both die

This song accomplished the rare feat of being a celebration of depression. It also expressed an ever-changing stream of conflicting desires, subtly capturing the fatality of indecision.

In the first two stanzas, "I hope we are doomed."
In the third stanza, "I hope to escape."
In the fourth stanza, "I hope no one else gets involved."
In the fifth and sixth stanzas, "I hope this suffering continues."
In the seventh stanza, "I hope we move on."
In the last stanza, "I hope this ends soon."

Tell me that this couple met in AA, and I would 100% believe it! It is easy to imagine them being in a broken, desperate state when they met, falling in love and building a renewed positive outlook on the future. Each thinking that the other was the missing piece in their life. Their short courtship was spent on Cloud 9, leading to a brief engagement and joyous nuptials. 

But that ever after lasted longer than their happiness, and those old habits creep back into their lives, leading to an unhappy situation magnified by the power of two.

Rise to Peace, #RIPHanaKimura

"When I first met you for the first time (...) I met you and I fell in love." - Hana Kimura (P3:E32)

This tribute might not be the most flattering piece on Hana Kimura online, but she has been in the forefront of my mind for the past month and I have no clue how much longer she will stay. But her name will never escape my mind fully.

The first time I saw Hana Kimura on "Terrace House," she gifted those opening words to her housemate Ryo. It was fitting because there were a multitude of others who felt the same towards her.

As I watched her episodes of "Terrace House," my mind shifted from "why have I never met anyone like this in my life" to the quick realization that I had, and she has been my best friend for 15 years. Hana Kimura was everything that's beautiful about life, and I know that firsthand because that was my conclusion 15 years ago when I met my best friend. Hana's mother was a pro wrestler and my friend's mother is a musician, and both of them "continued the family business" (as Hana had said).

Hana Kimura told us that she did not want to be human anymore, and I feel those words elevate her into a legend for many. The kindest, sweetest, and fiercest. Her life was a mystery, but thankfully she shared so much of it with the public that we can find something of ourselves in so many aspects of her life.

She was the girl who would be the first to tell her friends how pretty they were, so she could invalid their words when they reciprocated a compliment as them simply being polite.

She dreamed of a love grander than any reality offers, which she alone may have even deserved, but that oasis in her mind kept pushing her toward a dry mirage. She went on dates with her crush and other housemates, but then still said that she had not been on any dates. Her idea for the real world seemed to be set higher than our reality. A steep, ardous climb to prove herself to her own harshest critic in denial.

She was indefatigable, accelerating through life by thriving on a schedule that kept her locked in overdrive, working 24/7 for nine months, not to mention the three years of indie wrestling before then, but it all halted immediately.

She was either a weak girl with a strong woman façade, or vice-versa. The moment in "Terrace House" where I judge her truest character was on her one-on-one date with Ryo before the water park. Buying a swimsuit, but not selecting the one her love liked more because it was not her. She was a strong woman. At her best. Among her friends.

She was still the lonely girl. That no matter how much she achieved, and gaining main event status with worldwide exposure within four years is a phenomenal accomplishment, she was still the same girl she always was. In her mind. In her heart.

She was the most relatable person, living her life openly and honestly, like a mirror for us to see and to judge ourselves in her reflection. Good people saw her and said, "that is me" or "I should be more like that" and learned to love themselves or others more. Others saw her and said, "that can't be me" and invalidated what they saw.

She had life all figured out, yet it was not good enough for her. The idea that she was too good for this life has settled into my mind. Maybe she was right, for her anyway, not the rest of us. The most beautiful flowers get picked first.

In some ways, I am eager to move forward with what I have learned from her in mind, different & better. Every so often, life presents us a reminder that where we have spent our energy and focus was not on what matters.

No one who lacks empathy is a well-rounded person.

"Thank you for providing me with an opportunity for growth."

Song Meanings: The Black Crowes "She Talks to Angels"

The remedial interpretation of this song is simply that it is about an addict. Right from the first line, "she never mentions the word 'addiction'." Oh, she's an addict! Let's just force that perception throughout the song. Except there are millions of addicts, but very few are "song-worthy." Why her? What makes her special? Let's instead dig to the next level.

"She never mentions the word 'addiction' in certain company; she'll tell you she's an orphan after you meet her family."

Two ways to take these lines. First, she's a functional addict (who knows better than to raise suspicions by talking about addiction) but she'll tell others anything she can to get the fix. Second, she has a complex backstory that she does not share with people until she trusts them. Consider instead that an addiction killed her family, and the people who raised her are not her birth parents.

"She paints her eyes as black as night now, pulls those shades down tight. She gives a smile when the pain comes, the pain gonna make everything all right."

The remedial interpretation here is 'Aha, closed shades, smiles to pain - must be her addiction to heroin!' Sure, or she could also be a cutter. Instead of satisfying an addiction, she may be truly suffering from depression. Getting away from people gives her some level of comfort. The outsider looking in views it as fetishizing her own sadness. Whatever coping method(s) she uses for her pain, it could be more than one. Addiction or depression. People never show everything on the surface, and I doubt these lyrics do either.

"She keeps a lock of hair in her pocket. She wears a cross around her neck. Yes, the hair is from a little boy and the cross from someone she has not met, not yet."

A God-given cross? Perhaps. The lock of hair in her pocket is from a little boy. Her child? Maybe. Her deceased brother? Also possible. We can fictionalize a tragic backstory where her mom's OD killed her brother, and CPS gave her to an adoptive family, so she truly was an orphan. Or, it harkens back to the first interpretation that she is an addict with false narratives that she uses to appeal to others who do not know her.

"She don't know no lover. None that I've ever seen. And to her that ain't nothing, but to me, it means, means everything."

This line is the one I love most! Not the first part, the second. "To me, it means everything." She doesn't know she is loved. Yet, if she did, I would not care as much about her as I do! Her depression or addiction suckers me in. I am in love with her, even when I don't know her real story. Suddenly, there is a method to her madness. Could she just be a bored girl trying to find love through various lies of grandeur? If so, then (at least in my case) it worked!

"Says she talks to angels, says they all know her name. She talks to angels, says they call her out by her name."

The chorus can underline a certain distrust of her story. She says she talks to angels and that they call her by her name, but she is the only witness attesting to such discussions.

An addict.
An orphan.
A victim.
A liar.

The truth? We'll never know.

Mall Santa Dream

I had a very bizarre dream last night! It was highly incongruent, as most dreams are, and I probably forgot many details before I even woke up, as usual. But there was one moment, a moment so ridiculous, that I think I woke myself up laughing aloud – and I immediately composed a text to capture the quote. I drafted it as a reply to my most recent text, which happened to be a co-worker. Thankfully I did not hit send, because (as you’ll see) that would be hard to explain.

My dream took place at a two-story mall, where I was restricted from access to a certain corridor because the mall security guard insisted that Santa was coming, so we could not go down that corridor. At this point, I remember heading in the opposite direction of the Santa primarily because the mall security guard just had an unlikable presence. Literally, a repelling quality. Therefore, I was happy to change direction into the opposite path of him.

I am not sure how much time elapsed, either in real time or in meta-time inside dreamtime, a la Inception (“just because a concept is unnecessarily complex does not make it cool”), but as I was heading out of the mall, we were all stopped. The security guard yelled to the crowd that no one was permitted to enter or exit the mall for three minutes, because Santa was arriving. I remember shrugging in apathy. In comes the mall Santa.

Not the Mall Santa in this dream

What you are probably visualizing for “Mall Santa” is what I was expecting, too. What appeared instead was anything but the visual I had expected.

It was a robot on wheels, like a competitor on Robot Wars. Its head was that of a dog (like a Shih Tzu) but its head was distinctly left of center of the robotic block on which is set. It was either poorly assembled or intentionally placed in a decentralized spots for an inconceivable logic. The head itself was animatronic. Overall, it looked very hokey by today’s standards, but it probably would have been very impressive 10 years ago. Except the animatronic head. That movement was outdated by 30 years, like a reject from Showbiz Pizza.

Its deep voice carried a lot of reverence though. And Santa (apparently Santa was its name, and completely unrelated to St. Nick) addressed the crowd assembled for the exit, not his appearance. “Let us be blessed,” Santa began. “WHO!” The crowd responded in unison, “Who?” I remember thinking at the time how appropriate it was that we got to ask "who" since I literally had no idea who this was or what was going on, so I joined in the response.

My parents took me to Showbiz Pizza for my 8th birthday

Next, Santa said, “MOO!”  I responded, “Moo.” No one else in the crowd joined in that time though. I was not sure why. After a moment of dead silence, Santa looked directly at me and said, “God bless you, my cow.”

Everyone remained silent, seemingly bewildered between what had just happened and what could happen next.  Casually, Santa backed up and pivoted to move in the opposite direction of the assembly of onlookers and mall patrons, presumably none of us knew this Santa either, and then the crowd began filing out of the mall.

Personifying America

I have met a lot of interesting people in Arizona. Having a professional life and social life that seemingly stretch from one extreme to the next, it was inevitable. In my professional life, I work with numerous people who embody success. In my social life, I know numerous people who are living out their dreams on their own terms.

Then, there is me in between the two. I might not have been as successful or as accomplished as I would have been if I worked harder sooner. I might not be living out a dream as I never really started out with one. And yet, I feel both as though I have been successful and I live my life as I chose.

All too often, I find myself lamenting Americans for turning themselves into victims of our society, failing to realize how much freedom they have -- such as the freedom to chose to see themselves as victims. It feels as though they minimize the work of others, overvalue their own effort, and conclude that there are too many obstacles in their way for them.

Thankfully, there are others who get it. They understand their freedoms of choice, and they view setbacks as their own failure, so they choose to try again, harder. They prioritize goals over desires, and they keep going until they reach their next achievement. Satisfied with their accomplishments but not satiated in their effort, that achievement is followed by the next goal, and they continue moving onward.

Tonight, a popular biker bar in Scottsdale was celebrating its 14th anniversary. I was interested in attending because they have booked gigs for my friend Jeordie, but also, tonight's gig featured Hollywood Yates, a guy who I know from the ring instead of the stage.

Not noticing his 6-9:30 timeslot, I cut it closer than I even had realized until later.

I have said before that Navajo Warrior had taught me the most about the wrestling business and that Lil' Nate had taught me the most about the wrestling itself, but Hollywood Yates may have taught me more about my role in wresting than anyone else. My first interactions with him were cordial. I have always preferred to view wrestlers as "larger than life," and Hollywood supported that point of view. We kept our conversations short, maybe even to a simple exchange of praise and gratitude where I would pay him a brief compliment and he would acknowledge my support.

As my role in Impact Zone Wrestling grew, I found my conversations with Hollywood were getting longer. One day in Prescott Valley, he had an extensive conversation about his career. It would have happened without my realizing it, except I noticed he had brief exchanges of praise and gratitude with others while he kept our conversation going. At first, I was not sure how our conversation became a priority. Initially, I mistook it for flattery, and I thought maybe I was just an enjoyable listener for someone like Hollywood Yates.

As I drove home, thinking about our conversation and what he had said, I realized the truth behind what had happened and why I was so important. I had started writing the promotional material for IZW, both the show recaps to explain what had happened, as well as the event hype to excite people for the next show. I realized that the guy with the pen tells the story. The words I chose to hype events or recap matches could shape emotions for the readers, and Hollywood needed me to understand who he was in order to convey his story further to our fans.

Backstage with Hollywood at IZW.

Empowered by my new sense of value to the organization, I considered that role more heavily and I realized that my role backstage would not circumvent me from being able to still be a fan of the shows, but rather my remaining a fan at heart could even improve the shows. I tried to find moments of time to think about the events and recall my feelings about them when I recapped the shows. I had bought a video camera and I had been using it to record the matches, but then I started providing color commentary through the footage so I could include my emotions of the matches, instead of just the steps of a match, in the recaps.

Tonight, it was only the second or third time that I have been able to see Hollywood Yates perform as a musician. I showed up much later than planned, and I had weighed both my options to come out to the show or to head straight home after dinner with another friend. I was tired enough to turn home, but it had been so long since I had seen Hollywood that it made the final decision for me.

The bar was cramped, a small venue with a big event, As always in such a situation (being a life-long fan of Great White), I accessed the fire violations of the wooden beams overhead with countless bras flung across them. It was a precarious situation as long as there was nothing to spark a potentially deadly blaze (all paranoia aside, the building may have had an internal sprinkler system that I overlooked).

Hollywood Yates introduced his buddy to come take the stage for a song, which gave me an opportunity to let him know I was there in support. We had a brief exchange, reminiscent of our earliest exchanges of praise and gratitude.

After his short break from the stage, he went back up to close the show with a couple more songs. Ever the showman, he talked about all the hats he had worn on stage that night so far, and then segued into talking about all the hats he had worn in his life so far, wrapping up with his invitation to participate on U.S.O. tours, which led into his introduction for the patriotic power-ballad he had in mind. At the end of the song, he draped an American flag across his back, and for a moment, I forgot all that's wrong in the world because that sight was so right. I cannot think of anyone who personifies opportunity or epitomizes "Land of the Free" more than Hollywood Yates!

Hollywood models "Freedom of Choice"

From the rodeos to the wresting ring to national TV as American Gladiator Wolf to that stage tonight, Hollywood Yates has made the most out of the opportunities that he has been given.

Growing up in Small Town, Oklahoma, my mother had made it very clear that my sister and I were not allowed to live our whole lives there. She required us to move away, and if we wanted to come back, then we could -- but she needed us to know life outside of one town first. I may not be the most successful member of my family (and I only have the one sister), but my decision to move to Arizona and capitalize on my freedom however I saw fit has paid off. I do not set out to impress many people, but there was one time (where Hollywood Yates actually played a starring role) where I was especially proud to impress someone. Growing up, our dearest family friends were Bonnie & Lonnie. We were neighbors in Tishomingo, Oklahoma (where I lived for only the first six months of my life, so those memories are non-existent) but we stayed in touch long after we both moved to other towns. Every Super Bowl Sunday, we would visit them in Madill and every Fourth of July, they would visit us. They attended my father's funeral, and I remember grasping how important we were to each other when my mother had an extended conversation with them (like my conversation with Hollywood in Prescott Valley) while keeping other interactions to quick exchanges.

Even long after my sister and I graduated college and moved away, my mother has remained friends with Bonnie & Lonnie. Several years ago, she was visiting them after "American Gladiators" had started on NBC, and it was Lonnie's favorite show. His favorite character was Wolf. He was blown away when my mother said that I knew him. The following week, I sent her the picture that he and I had taken backstage at IZW, and during her next visit, Lonnie still had the printed photo attached to one of his picture frames.

As I turned 40 last month (or maybe it was because my 17-year-old Penny finally got a bad health report), I have reflected a lot on my life and accomplishments. My life over the past 20 years in Arizona has been what I wanted it to be given all the opportunities presented. Almost none of it was what I would have expected upon moving here, but I am grateful for almost all of it!

Pick Your Battles

I saw an interesting sub-question on Twitter yesterday. Someone wrote, "Not sure which show to watch on Netflix now, I want something funny and everything popular seems so dramatic." There are a handful of good original comedies on Netflix, including my favorite "Wet Hot American Summer: First Day of Camp" (which was the reason I signed up for Netflix in the first place). And yet, she was right. All of the shows that garnered a buzz and social praise have been dramatic and serious. It is a reflection of the times.

We are each at war, but it is not a collective, unified war. It is a war that each of us has adopted for ourselves, and we fight it with others who see the same injustices the way we do against anyone who does not. The "information superhighway" has given us a battleground for a war against ignorance, which is the true enemy because we cannot understand why anyone would not believe the same way we do. We currently find ourselves in a world that understands you pick your own battles, but we are unable to make the simple deduction that the phrase also means you pick your own enemies.

It is no wonder that comic book movies are so popular in our society today! As serious and dramatic as everything is in our lives, we still have to have some lighthearted entertainment now and again. Comic book movies fit the bill nicely. Everybody sees themselves as battling against the world's super-villains. Or, especially for many who post online throughout the day with weekly tirades, maybe they just want a superhero to swoop in to skew things in favor of what is right and good.

We choose our battles. We choose our enemies. By large, we even choose what is good and what we see as right.

And yet, so many of these online social justice warriors (those who frequently post online about their chosen issues of great importance, without actually joining charitable organizations that try to improve others' lives often affected by such issues) feel so powerless.

They know employers are not looking out for what is best for their employees, yet OSJWs are stuck in dead-end jobs.

They get unhinged at every first-hand account of discrimination found online (no matter how ridiculously one-sided the tale), yet OSJWs villainize the rich. In their limited arsenal of tools is accusing others of having a narrow scope of friends, even though they are not friends with anyone who is even a millionaire or a conservative, or any other traits that they are warring against.

Ultimately, these poor souls lose their battles or the war, because the most hated enemy they chose is within.

This was my favourite moment in 2016...

Best laid plans (...) often go awry

At some point in the past couple years, I realized what my single biggest regret would be if I died today (which is, of course, now in the past): I had never been to Montréal. That admission to myself sparked the determination that I needed to prioritize the trip. At the end of last year, I secured my passport (which had been the excuse I used to postpone planning it for several years) and I started pricing the trip. Before leaving, I made a short list of "must-see" landmarks that I did not want to miss, including the Bell Centre, Tricolore Sports, Notre-Dame Basilica, Montreal Children's Hospital (specifically, the P.K. Atrium), and the Forum.

Corridors in the Forum

Touring the Bell Centre involved the easiest planning as it was a primary destination spot downtown. Next on the list was Montreal Children's Hospital. I used my GPS to arrive and I paid for 45 minutes of parking since I figured, in the most optimistic of circumstances, that would be sufficient time. Unfortunately, I was greeted by a sign directing me to the hospital's new location. Slightly disappointed, I looked for a Tim Hortons because "when in Rome." To my surprise and delight, there was a Copper Branch location at the corner of Lambert Closse and Sainte-Catherine. I reviewed their menu because I had plans with a friend to meet her at a Copper Branch later in my trip and I purchased her a gift card to send her on her birthday, which was several months later but it was my best opportunity to get one.

Just down the road, I saw there was a Tim Hortons as well, so the seemingly unnecessary stop had started panning out very well. (As a quick side note, I went to pay for my Timmies and realized that I had left my credit card at Copper Branch, but the employee had already set it aside for my imminent return so retrieving it could not have been quicker.)

Centre Ice

This Tim Hortons location seemed like it was connected to a mall, so I wanted to look around. It was a good place for me since it was heavily enshrined with the Montréal Canadiens. Even more so than the rest of the city.

At that point, my mind started putting more pieces of the puzzle together. I knew the Forum was located on the corner of Rue Sainte-Catherine and Atwater, so a hockey-themed mall made me wonder whether or not I had inadvertently stumbled into the Forum! Taking a full look inside, and it was obvious that this was in fact the historic location where the Habs had hoisted the Stanley Cup on 22 occasions and housed its banners.

Sitting in Section 210

The location had centre ice marked for a face-off, as well as the original seating from Section 210. I used it as a photo opportunity, and I overheard a couple guys laughing at us (I was not the only photog there in action). The guys were friendly enough, so I shared my story of being a long-time fan of the team by way of Oklahoma and Arizona. They shared with me some of their experiences at the original Forum. As I sat down on the steps (since I was a couple rows above them) to continue the discussion, a security guard warned me that we were not allowed to sit there. One of the guys then joked, "Yeah, see that is a rule left over from the days of the Forum, and the security guards then would have done the exact same thing. So, I think that is about as close to the true Forum experience as you can get in this day and age!"