So, last night, I was walking up Calle Matamoros after grabbing a sugar cookie for 8 pesos and some horchata from my neighbor’s taqueria when I bumped into Alonso.
Who’s Alonso, you ask? Honestly, I’m not sure, but he had a Casualties patch, so I shared a memory from when I was 19 and ordered the ’40 oz Casualty’ 7” EP straight from the band. I stumbled through my broken Spanish, and he exclaimed, “no mames.” I asked where he lived, and he said, “el centro.” I pointed out where I lived, and we shook hands. I told Alonso, ‘nos vemos pronto’ and ‘arriba los punkis.’
Back in 1992, I sent Jorge, the singer, about $10 in the mail. A few weeks later, I got the ’40 oz Casualty’ EP, and he even threw in a copy of the ‘Benefit for Beer‘ EP as a gift.
But here’s the kicker: the knucklehead sent the records without any cardboard for protection. Seriously, there are a few things you can count on in life, and I can’t believe Jorge didn’t have an empty beer box lying around to cut some cardboard and keep the records safe.
Anyway, while the ‘Benefit for Beer’ EP arrived in pieces, I blasted ’40 Oz Casualties’ on my old one-piece stereo turntable to my heart’s content (much to my neighbors’ dismay).
If you’ve checked out my other blogs in the ‘Recalling’ series, you know I’ve been through some rough patches. These posts are all about music, memories—both good and bad—and celebrating moments, connections, and even conflicts.
Honestly, I don’t want to die; I just don’t want to be in pain. Learning to love myself is a tough journey. I’ve got a hater out there who sends me these snarky, yet oddly intellectual emails telling me all the things I do wrong. It’s not the therapy session I signed up for, but I’m grateful because it reminds me of the messed-up person I was before committing to recovery. I know I’ll be healing for the rest of my life, but thanks to my anonymous hater, it’s a bit easier to embrace self-love now.
Writing these blogs is both fun and often funny. Sometimes the folks in the bands don’t like me, and sometimes they’ve made questionable choices.
The Casualties have a new singer now for a reason. I was hurt by someone when I was younger, and it made my life difficult in ways that weren’t my fault. In other blogs, I’ve mentioned bands where I’ve had conflict with members or vice versa. I’m not claiming to be a saint either.
But as a survivor, part of my healing involves speaking my truth, even when it’s uncomfortable; and trying to move forward.
The reality is some people take advantage of others. But I also believe that sharing our experiences can help us heal and find freedom. I’m compassionate towards people who mess up, and I hope they eventually look in the mirror and take responsibility for their actions.
Whatever the truth may be, I support healing and encourage accountability as a way to promote restorative justice, if that’s possible.
When I ran into Alonso on the street, I spotted a punk kid dressed the part. It’s a tradition to say hi to fellow punks anywhere you go. I’m really glad I did.
It’s been a while since I wrote a ‘Recalling’ blog. Why the delay? I’ve been going through a rough time. I’ve thought about it a lot, but just didn’t write it. Something pretty awful happened recently, and I had to take a break at home for a few days. So, this blog is kind of my way of resetting.
As you’re reading this, there’s likely a punk kid out there struggling with thoughts of overdose or suicide. Maybe it’s you? Or maybe me? Life can be brutal, and sometimes you just want to escape the pain.
Before making any irreversible decisions, remember that the guy writing this used to hate himself for a long time, but somehow figured out how to “make broken beautiful again.” If you knew me 20 years ago before I started my healing journey, you’d see that the ugly dude became guapisimo. I bet my anonymous hater knows that too.
As we say in Mexico, “a huevo!”
Thanks to Alonso, I was reminded of how much I loved, then hated, and now appreciate The Casualties. For years, I hung out with the Boston Drunk Punks. They’d call me a Hippycrit or the “King of PC,” but back in the 90s, the punk scene was small and we all kind of mingled together, no matter our differences. Some of those folks don’t like me, and I don’t really care for them either, but at the end of the day, we were all punks, and for many of us, that was everything.
I remember when Neil Robinson from Nausea and Tribal War Records put out The Casualties‘ album. I remember thinking, why would he do that? By then, I was a crust punk and had no interest in partying or drinking.
It took a long time and a lot of growth for me to wrap my head around it. I eventually realized that most of us, if not all, are a bit full of it, because we’re human, but we’re really just trying to do our best. We’re all broken in our own ways and just want to be okay.
In 1993, I went to see Naked Aggression in Allston, Massachusetts, and Drop Dead from Providence was on the lineup. During Drop Dead’s set, their singer Bob swung the mic stand, and it smacked me right in the face. For more on that, check out the article here.
My shirt got soaked in blood.
I think it’s a fitting tribute to what the early 90s DIY punk scene was like—Drop Dead with Naked Aggression and a blood-soaked ‘There has got to be some beer in here’ 40 oz Casualties t-shirt.
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As for me, I steer clear of alcohol.
What I genuinely want is to see people dealing with trauma, addiction, mental health issues, and tough life experiences gain control and start to heal.
We often spend too much time mourning people after they overdose or take their own lives. I understand and validate the pain that comes with that loss.
My aim is to create a positive impact that helps the living keep going, and, to be specific, to help them live better lives.
If you find this blog meaningful in any way and want to show your support, check out the ‘You’re Crazy’ Punks in Recovery trilogy anthology book series here.
And you can read all the ‘Recalling’ blogs right here.
