Mood music for this post: “Hurt,” by Johnny Cash (cover of the Nine Inch Nails song):
Going through an old stack of books this afternoon, I found this photo:
I’m on the left holding the bass. On the right is Sean Marley. I told you about him in the post “Marley and Me.”
The photo is one of those stupid mock rock magazine covers, shot in the summer of 1989 at a carnival on the grounds of the Suffolk Downs racetrack near Revere Beach.
My addictive behavior had already taken root but wasn’t yet at the self-destructive point. The OCD was there at that point, but I hadn’t yet become aware of the patterns. All I knew at that point was that I hated authority and I had a mighty temper.
Sean was a unique character with a dark side at that point, but he was not yet showing signs of a depression that would eventually kill him. That wouldn’t show its wretched face for another five years.
I had absolutely no clue what was ahead of me.
The kid in that picture wouldn’t like who I am today. He would despise the Catholicism and make fun of the 12-Step program. But we’d still have a love of heavy metal in common.
Come to think of it, if today I had to spend time in the same space as the kids in that picture, I probably wouldn’t like either of them all that much. I’d tolerate them though.
I’m Blessed beyond comprehension with the life I have today. But, admittedly, looking at that picture hurts a little. A lot of good people have come and gone since then.
It’s a little overwhelming to think about, so instead I’ll go to bed.