I'm referring to my early 20's, a time in which I was in a relationship (though how committed it was is still up in the air, as we both relentlessly remained unfaithful while swearing we were) that allowed me the freedom to follow my own sense of wanderlust. I had finished college and returned home to Chicago, settling into my first self-paid for apartment. Life was good. For the first time in my life, I had little responsibility and a whole lot of free time for fun.
I should also take mention that technologically, this was right before Facebook hit it big. Myspace was just beginning and really was a place for musicians. Since there weren't many people who had heard of it yet, it was relatively easy for musicians to network to their fans. The scene at the time was "nu-metal" and Chicago (as always) was a great place to see shows. I quickly became friends (and yes, I stress the word friends here, for those of you who like to assume things) with a bunch of musicians who all achieved a substantial amount of fame and or notoriety. Some I was closer with than others, some were central characters in a few debaucherous nights, and others became people I still think of often, even now.
One friend in particular, will always hold a special place in my heart. I was going through a rough patch, and he was always there for me despite the fact that he had a ridiculous touring schedule, a new album that had dropped, being signed to a new label.. and you get the gist. However whenever I was feeling down, I'd get a random telephone call from him, or a video call of him sans stage gear, playing with puppets or some other random trinket. However this didn't last longer than a year, as towards the ten month mark we began to drift off (his schedule was constantly being overwhelmed by groupies, and obligations, and the excitement of being catapulted upwards and onwards) and after we drifted off, I had already established myself into the next phase of my life so there was no room for this lanky boy of a man to be standing stage left, barking at me to pay more attention to him. I had enough on my plate at the time.
I need to stop because I realized it sounds like I'm talking about someone who died. Quite the opposite. This man lives on, villified by the fan base he once accrued as his life took a nasty turn somewhere after we lost contact. I'd like to say that after "shit went down" I was there for him, but I wasn't at all. Not for lack of want, but because what he did was something I had always warned him about and yet prophetically enough, it bit him in the ass. However once you hit a certain level of fame or celebrity, it is quite easy to lose a sense of yourself. And that he did.
So last night I thought about this guy. Heard from someone close to him that he has picked his life back up and has gotten what shit together that he could. Even saw a picture, and I had to laugh as tidbits of a past conversation peppered my ears. I could probably manage to get his number again, but what would I say? So here's my attempt at what I should say, and I hope it's worth more than just the guillotine.
I'm sorry I was a shitty friend, but you were shitty too. My mistakes do not absolve you from some of your prior actions. That being said, if you searched hard enough, you'd find out how to contact me. I'd never refuse a phone call.
And a bit of advice, take it for what you will. No matter how high you are, you can always crash down in a nanosecond. You'd do well to take this and hold it close.
xo.
team sumi_zoomi, duckfacing before duckface was cool and then uncool.
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