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Shame In Dem Game
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (links coming soon)
SHAME IN DEM GAME is a song by H.R., the lead singer of Bad Brains.
Bad Brains is an all-black hardcore punk band that originated in the Washington D.C. punk scene in the late 70s and early 80s. They’d mix in an occasional reggae track here and there, and it was totally unlike any kind of reggae I’d ever heard. I’m basically speechless after I listen to them.
We’ll talk a lot more about music, by the way.
Understand, however, that this is not a blog. I hate that word, for some reason—blog.
I hate the word novel, too. It sounds like it has some kind of baggage attached to it. Like if I hear the word, it makes me want to roll my eyes. I prefer the term badass story.
I try to write badass stories. They may not be badass, though. They could be far from it. I just don’t know.
It doesn’t even matter, though. I write anyway. I write constantly. It’s an addiction. I can’t stop it.
It’s both a blessing and a curse to want to write all the time. A blessing, because I’m never, ever, ever, ever bored. A curse, because I’m always distracted, thinking about the weird stories I want to write, even when I should be focused on other things. This has dogged me for most of my life. But I never really told anyone about it.
So what is it that I write about? Well… giant monsters, fantasy chicks, apocalyptic futures, Japan for some reason, and, like, I don’t, Jimi Hendrix. Yeah, I’m basically a sophomore in high school. What do you want from me? I’m not claiming to be Shakespeare.
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Another word I could do without is hippie. Someone might have tried to label me as such, in high school or college, because I listened to a lot of jam bands over the years. But I’m allowed to listen to whatever I want, you know? And I don’t feel the need to adopt any kind of lifestyle. Anyways, a hippie would not have joined the Navy, would they? I listen to some gangster rap too; that doesn’t make me a gangster. I wish more people had that awareness back when I was in high school.
Listening to reggae doesn’t mean I’m Rastafarian. Punk doesn’t make me a punk. Really, the person I am most similar to, in personality and outlook, is Phillip J. Fry, from Futurama—just a guy who’s happy to be here.
SHAME IN DEM GAME, for me, is a retrospective. However, it will focus more so on life’s extremely random, and oftentimes comical moments, which have always stood out to me for some reason, even more so than life’s big moments. Additionally, it will often take cover under a few things that I’m really passionate about, the things that have filled my wayward thoughts for each and every day for as long as I can remember. These are topics I love too much, even at the expense of other aspects of my life. For example, if girls are always on your mind, whether you want them there or not, isn’t that detrimental to the things you should be focused on at the time? At times my life has felt like a bumbling comedy of errors and rash decisions, most of it having been guided and swayed by some chick, even though she may not have been aware she was doing it at the time. I fall in love too easily, what can I say? I love it though. I love being in love. There’s truly nothing better.
For me, music is similarly all-consuming, whether I wish for this to be the case or not. While doing the things that I want to do, or the things that I have to do, I’m usually listening to music at the same time, for better or for worse. I also make playlists, and before that, mix tapes (which was like an art form unto itself). I generally expend an unnecessarily large amount of time and mental energy doing this. I wish I could put that energy to more constructive use, but well, here we are.
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Are these passions also my flaws? In that they consume so much of my time and mental capacity that I’m perpetually distracted? Sure, maybe, but whatever is to be gained from losing them wouldn’t be worth it. Everyone has passions, and that’s what makes us who we are. What would I be without the things I'm passionate about? I don't even know. I might be more focused, but I might also be depressed as hell.
Another flaw I have will manifest itself at the worst possible time, when it would be beneficial for me to immediately have a good thing to say or a good response. But I can't think of the right words fast enough. That's why I prefer writing them later. For example, I'm the guy who finally thinks of the best comeback 10 minutes after the altercation is over. I hate this flaw. Even social occasions might be excruciating for me. If you’re my age then you probably remember a scene in Caddyshack when Rodney Dangerfield is walking through a crowded club restaurant and he has a slick, hilarious one-liner for every person he sees. I wish I could be like that. I want to be like that. But it’s just not me. Well, not unless I’m drunk.
To counter these flaws is the greatest of gifts that I've been given, something I've been very lucky to have—everywhere I’ve gone during my life, I’ve been able to make some really good friends. It's pretty easy—all you need to do is be nice and not piss people off. Then try to be cool and not lame. I don't think it's difficult, but it obviously is for a lot of people, because I see a lot of lame-ass people out there doing some very uncool things.
So it is with the help of good friends that I've gotten along okay. I look back and think that I've had some good moments. But I'm never, ever satisfied. I'm never content. I’m always searching for something. And this is my curse.
I will want the new thing desperately; I work to get it, and then I miss the old thing. I go back to the old thing, and then I say, shit, I’ve made a terrible mistake. I'm always conflicted. Something sucks and it is cool at the same time. I hate it and I love it. Everything is a complete dichotomy. This is the reason why I rode around on air craft carriers while wishing I was at a Phish show. I’m indefinable but noncommittal. I’m good at many things but great at nothing.
But, nevertheless, like my man Philip J. Fry, I’m always just happy to be here. It’s no secret why.
One time somebody asked me if I had any regrets about the decisions I’ve made in life. I told him no, but only because I didn't want to come across as some mopey, morose bastard. He said, that’s good, life is too short for regrets. I loved that comment. That’s life, you see? You only have one chance, and you hope you make the best of it, and you spend as much time as you possibly can with those things that you are passionate about, because those are the best things in your life. Beer is good too.
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