53. Blake – “When we listen to music we are not listening to the past, we are not listening to the future, we are listening to an expanded present.” — Alan Watts
53
Blake
“When we listen to music we are not listening to the past, we are not listening to the future, we are listening to an expanded present.” — Alan Watts
So I wanted to talk about my brother. Especially since I just finished making a song about him, and he’s fresh on my mind. I wouldn't be in here if it weren’t for him this time. My mom is dead, and my dad is dead-broke, and we all know these places love to suck you dry of your money. It’s almost a fucked up thing when you think about it.
Hey, you’ll die if you don’t pay money to get clean, but on the other hand, if you can’t do it on your own, then you’ll die, too. The Basketball Diaries all over again.
I hated my brother in the sense you hated your vegetables growing up. You know they’re good for you, but you don’t want to eat them because you’re unable to stomach the taste. In other words, I hate him for the wrong reasons. He cared. He cared almost too much, giving me hope that I’d get through this that I won’t ever relapse again. And in a weird fucked up way, I liked his control-freak ways, especially when it came to me. I knew I had my daddy issues, but also my mommy issues since my mom died when I was so young. So the way he liked to control every little thing, down to the fucking macros he ate for the day, made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I would never tell him that, but it was the truth. And this is my confession, so I can say what the fuck I want on here.
What else? Oh, he’s an asshole. I know he’s dating that Martha Stewart slash Jessica Simpson wanna-be to fill in for a mother role. I know because now that he told me once they get their big fucking mansion, I’ll be living with them. His fiance is already decorating all our rooms, including mine. I told her not to worry, but she thought I was crying out for help when I meant what I said. Leave my shit alone. But then again, we are talking about a girl who thinks domestic bliss is wearing matching shirts for every damn picture that’s taken for the tabloids or just for damn selfies.
Dude, you’re about to go to the NFL. You can do better. Maybe get a girl that has more than half a brain. Big tits don’t make up for it. I know you’re about to have a kid with her, but for the love of God, don’t marry the woman. If you do that, you might as well tie your hands and feet together and be thrown off a cliff. I’m not sure how you came to your senses so late, but maybe you should take my advice and get a real chick. One that would be there for you even on your darkest days. Kind of like my friend Abigail. I never told you about her since you're too busy being a pro athlete and playing the perfect fiancé role now, but she’s one of the best people I know. I think the only good person I know. She’s pretty tough and strong. She doesn’t think she is, but she’s strong as shit. Even stronger than you, mentally anyway. She has assholes for family members, too, so she had to be. Still, my point is, that’s the type of girl you need behind you, not some fake-ass blonde joker that’s always smiling even when the world is coming to an end because she would be the type to laugh hysterically when a giant Metroid is coming to the earth and about to kill half the population.
Speaking of death, if I do manage to make it to thirty, then it’s a miracle, but if I’m gone before then, I want you to finish the pact I couldn’t. Find your way to her. She’s worth the wait; she’s worth the struggle. She’s worth a thousand wishes and more.
I guess this is the part I need to wrap up and end this by saying something nice. You know, the whole 12 steps bullshit. So here it goes.
Thanks for putting me in here and paying for it all. It’s the only place I feel like I can trust myself. Since I have no access to drugs, I think I could have handled being under your care after mom died and I found out dad was a loser if you acted like you wanted to spend even a little time with me over football. I know football is your life, but come on. And I know we got handed a bad start since it literally started with shit, but that’s what we could have bonded over. The fact we were Killian men. Our dad was a hoe, and if we are lucky, we will only fuck up half as much as him in our lifetime. That kind of shit.
I don’t know. If that had happened, maybe it would have felt like I had a family who cared, and I wasn’t doing this alone and fighting this shit by myself. That is why I wrote a whole song about what having a brother in another life would be like. Let’s hope we don’t have to wait that long for it to happen in the next one.
What else? Oh, my psychologist told me it's therapeutic to give and receive hugs, but since I can’t do the latter, I thought I’d admit I idolize you. In a way, I also…. love you, Colt.