I find myself surprisingly affected by the death of Lynn Shelton (filmmaker), but through my empathy with Marc Maron who she was dating. Let me explain.

This is not meant in any way to discount her work or achievements, it’s simply that I didn’t know her name until she started dating Marc Maron because I listen to his WTF podcast. I’ve literally spent hundreds and hundreds of hours listening to him. Getting to know him through his interviews. I watched his last comedy special with Lynn directed. I’ve heard him go through several relationships. I’ve been so pissed at his immature, condescending, judgmental attitude that I considered not listening to his podcast any more.

When you spend that much time, even just listening to someone, someone who puts a lot of themselves genuinely into what they do, I do believe you “get to know them” as absurd as that may sound. Sure he could be a dick, but mostly he seems like a good-hearted, intelligent, empathetic guy who has been through a lot of shit and is self-aware enough to have made a lot of improvements and seems to endeavor to be a better person every day, which is the best any of us can do.

I remember when their relationship first started. I’ve listened to him talk about her. I’ve heard her in the background or pop in to an intro to say something. I’ve heard stories about them or her being in the other room. About her work, her movies.

I don’t think I realized how much personal connection I felt to Marc Maron, and by proxy to my “friend’s” new girlfriend until I saw the headline today and felt gut punched. For someone I barely knew, via someone I only virtually know. But I felt (some infinitesimal speck of) his pain. I couldn’t imagine what he must be going through. I wrote him a personal email, composing the best, most comforting words I could put together. They seemed happy (and were according to the statement he released). In these crazy times, it was even crazier that it was in no way related to COVID-19 but was some previously undiagnosed blood disease, I’ve read. I know how much it hurts to simply lose someone in a breakup, but I can’t imagine that kind of loss of someone you love. And if you personally know this pain, you have my love as well. Many hours later, I still find myself taking a walk and thinking about it.

As I wrote to him, and as I have written to many of you in times of pain (I hate to sound repetitive or trite but I just can find no better words and they really do bring me some degree of peace), in times like these I like go to science and the Law of Conservation of Energy which states that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, it can only change forms. And what are we all, our souls, our consciousness, if not energy in some form. It will never cease to exist, it will only change forms.

And if I had to pick one line to sum up life to me it would be this:

“And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.”

-The Beatles “The End”

Sense memory is so powerful. It’s always amazing to me how some smell, sound, tactile feeling, taste, or image can instantly transport you to some moment from practically any time in your life.

Today I was taking a walk and something about the temperature, the sun on my skin, the way the breeze blew across me gave me a sudden flash in my brain. I was a child going to College Hills Elementary school. I wasn’t at school, but was taking a walk, perhaps walking home from school on a day that felt just this same way. I was thinking of a book I’d read from the school library, a compilation of Science Fiction short stories. It’s a book I’ve thought of often throughout the years, or more accurately, tried to think of through the years but can’t remember much about it and the vague details I do remember, I have to question their accuracy after all these years. Who knows how corrupted they may have become with each time I’ve tried to recall them over the years since.

I remember it being a larger sized book. Perhaps with purple and black theme to the cover. I remember a story about…someone…a boy? Who finds a robot. A theme that could fit probably thousands of stories if not more. The more specific detail I think I remember is a story of a team who lands on a foreign planet and ends up encountering some creatures that resemble large fleas or ticks perhaps, with spiky crystalline backs.

This book was one of my earliest encounters with Science Fiction and I’ve always wondered what it was. And all of this from the simple feeling of sun and breeze across my skin on a walk.

“Fear is the mind killer.”

– Frank Herbert, Dune

“On second thought , let’s not go to Camelot. ‘Tis a silly place.”

– King Arthur, Monty Python And The Holy Grail

A friend gave my name to someone who was looking for a musician to play acoustic and sing in the courtyard of the condo complex she managed. She contacted me about it, and I told her that I’d love to do it, but it might have to be a little later as allergies have been wrecking my voice.

Now this is absolutely true. But it was also a convenient excuse. An excuse because the truth is that somewhere in me I was scared of doing this gig. Now, if you know me at all, then you are probably thinking the same thing that I was thinking at myself: “That’s ridiculous. This is not only one of your careers, but also one of the things you feel is your reason for existing. One of the things that makes you feel completely in your element, fulfilled and like your truest, brightest self. Why would you possibly be scared?”

Because fear is stupid but almost ever-present. It is the root of almost all negativity in one form or another. Yes I am a professional musician and I love it, but my usual element is playing with bands or recording. I haven’t done much solo playing in a long, long time. I love working with others and being a part of a team. When it’s just me I feel so much more exposed and vulnerable. I feared because I hadn’t been honing my solo act, that I wouldn’t have enough good material to play 90 minutes. That my real voice problems would make me perform at unacceptable (to me) levels. That people in this complex would not want music foisted upon them. That they would not like my song selection. one would be too obscure and no one would know it. The next would be too cliche and played out. There were infinite reasons to not do this gig. All of them, ridiculous for the most part.

Just picking songs that I do with bands and could do solo would be far more than enough material. Yes my voice isn’t 100% but it’s probably not noticeable to anyone other than me. Every song will be loved by some and hated by others, it’s the nature of art which is totally subjective. In this time of being quarantined at home, most people would probably love a little music in their lives. Were my fears completely unfounded? No, they were within the realm of possibility mostly, but pretty far fetched and unlikely.

I had referred her a couple of friends’ names as possibilities as well (she had someone who was supposed to play tomorrow flake out on her at the last minute). In the end, I messaged her and said that if she needed me tomorrow, I could do it. It still scares me. I still find that ludicrous as well. But most importantly, I don’t want to live and make decisions based on fear. Especially when it keeps me from doing something I’ve meant to do and wanted to do for as long as I can remember, which is actually get my solo act going.

And this is how we arrive at my Dune/Monty Python quote mashup: “Fear is the mind killer. Tis a silly place.”