Monday, December 31, 2007

Dispatches from Powerviolence: Keith Buckley Gives a Year-End Throatpunch



Thanks a lot, I think I'm crying now... Weeping for my own sense of lost time, agenda, and self. What a way to prep myself for a meaningless night of the same old parties and liver-damaging, except with a random ten second yell-along to prove to ourselves we indeed passed first grade and remember our numbers. So here is Ol' Mr. Buckley, King of the Shitty Dudes, giving this year a boot behind us in the most beautiful of fashions........

[from his myspace blog:]

Garfield, you were right all along when you said "Fuck Mondays"…..

Yes, it is new years eve. I'll get to that in a second. First things first: Happy Smoking Day United Kingdom! For those of you that are unaware, December 31st is National Smoking Day in the UK, and for those who wish to engage in nationwide bad-habitry, you are encouraged- in an oddly American-esque display of brazen disregard for babies and sick people- to smoke WHEREVER YOU FEEL LIKE! (www.nationalsmokingday.com) That's right everyone, Britain has finally seen the light and has adopted the infamous Tyra Banks "SO WHAT" mentality that was forcefully applied to our own contingent of out of shape and gluttonous patriots. High Blood pressure and Gestational diabetes? "SO WHAT?!" Bronchitis for unsuspecting victims of second hand smoke who are trying to color their placemats? "SO WHAT?!" Today is a day to be proud of who you are. In all your inconsiderate and wheezy glory.

Ok, back to the real reason for this entry. It's the last day of 2007. I think as you get older, the idea that there is a significantly distinct "last" time for every thing you do begins to take on a more sordid tone. When we were younger, every "last" was a checkpoint we passed on our unflinching march towards adulthood and, inherently, our first boob. Maybe even 2. Now I'm 28 and I have back spasms and a grey pube and the last Monday of another year feels eerily like the guy who pulls into the pick up window of a mcdonalds drive thru behind you before you've had the chance to check if your order was right. It has shuffled me along and stood hungrily in my stead. Certainly not as final as the hobble of time, but easily just as sad. So, today I woke up and decided to reflect on the year before it has pushed me into the exit lane, and while I cant go back to change what I' ve been given, at least on the ride home ill be able to convince myself I'm quite happy with what I've ended up with after all.

I'm not going to recap the major events of the year because I don't think I can remember all the ones worth mentioning and I don't think the ones worth mentioning are anything I can even comment on. I know that there were moments in the past year where I read or heard something and looked around the room frantically to see if any one else was simultaneously feeling the backward slide of civilization, but those moments don't stick with you, and THAT'S the reason Nickelback is the biggest band in the world. There is just too much, too often. While you're reeling from one insult to your intelligence, another comes in the form of a celebrity vagina and puts you on one knee and while the refs back is turned because he's yelling at the obnoxious ringside manager, Family Guy uses the least impressive comedic tactics in history to hold you down while 2 girls and 1 cup pin you for the count. Well, you stand on the losing end of this one sided slug fest for too long, and eventually you are forced to retire before your time. So you remove yourself from actively buying cd's. and switch to vinyl. You cancel cable and watch only Jodoworsky. read strictly Bukowski. Listen to Iron and Wine. drink gin. Smoke cloves. proudly resign from the machine, thinking if you cant play a part you wont play at all. The problem with this, is that you were the only one smart enough to know how to change anything. So, now George Bush is my president and since I don't have satellite radio in the car, I have to hear who else Akon has teamed up with. Thanks assholes.



I decided this year I don't really have a "skill". I have a motorcycle and know how to change only its gas and spark plugs. I have a million books on my shelf and cant tell you off the top of my head the name of the only guy on our currency that WASN'T a president. I have been in a band for 10 years and cant tune a guitar. I kind of feel like I'm doing a really bad imitation of myself. I used to play the piano. I used to write ALL THE TIME. When I was 16, I wrote 200+ pages of what I one day hoped would be a book. I still have it in my closet. I have an idea for a movie that would, without a doubt, become at least one persons favorite movie of all time and I cant pull myself together enough to start writing it. I decided to write this today because I am now giving everyone who reads it the license to call me out. challenge me. Make me worry that I may be forgotten quickly, so that I improve rapidly. Maybe not drink so much. Maybe write more than I have been lately. Maybe read another Fante book instead of a celebrity website.

I used to think, and still kind of do, that when I stopped collecting cards, everyone else did too. As if the Men In Black erased our memory of what a "Beckett" ever was. And not just from my friends minds, I mean eradicated them from history. I don't remember anyone ever asking me to trade cards and me having to say "naw man, im into metallica now. Sorry". it was just like a flock of birds who communally decide to change direction, the whole world stopped card collecting. Then I realized something. MYSPACE is the new flea market. You collect people who are branded with stats and you do nothing but collect. Except we no longer search frantically for that one quality card, like Brett Hulls rookie. We need EVERY card. And when we have every card, we get our own reality show on MTV where we pretend to be bi-sexual…..

I got engaged this year. I put out the best record of my career. I work for a magazine I grew up reading where I do something I love doing. The only thing in the world that could possibly drag me away from my fiancé for months at a time are my friends, and I get to hopelessly search America with them. I have a lot to be thankful for, but I have more to be excited about. I want to write a better record next year. I want to love touring like I used to. i want to not just be engaged, but have a marriage that works. I want to team up with Akon. I want to write that movie. I want to talk to you. this year, maybe I will.

No comments: