“I pop the video in, and wow… Tears welling, silence, goose-bumps… Wow. [I felt like] I just lost my girlfriend, because that song isn’t mine anymore… It really made me think about how powerful music is as a medium and art form. I wrote some words and music in my bedroom as a way of staying sane, about a bleak and desperate place I was in, totally isolated and alone. [Somehow] that winds up reinterpreted by a music legend from a radically different era/genre and still retains sincerity and meaning — different, but every bit as pure.”
Well here I am. A regular Wednesday morning and I wake up to a text from a friend with this video attached. A bunch of Karate guys going absolutely apeshit on their nuts. It wasn’t the best way to wake up. A gut punch. A swift kick to the dick.
I grew up with no talents. When I was younger I could twist my fingers around themselves and my knuckles crack every time I make a fist. That’s all I ever had. In college I quickly realized I could punch myself in the balls and it would make 25 percent of the room laugh. Is is a talent? No. Is it funny? To some people, I guess. Does it make a lot of people hate me? Yes. Either way, it was mine. A nice little party trick. Now I have nothing. I thought I was playing in the pro’s but I was actually in tee ball. These guys brought out a fucking battering ram. A battering ram! The thing you use to break down a locked door. Fuck. I feel so pathetic now.
Here’s to the good times…