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it's hopeless... it's... karaoke... MADNESS
October 06, 2004
when i was four, i told my father, at the side and prompting of my soon-to-be stepfather, that i didn't want to spend the court-allotted time with him, and in fact, that i never wanted see him again. i may have been told some shit that was only partially true, i may have just said so because i was weak-minded, being, you know, four years old.
i told him this outside the handy-dan hardware store where my mother worked. i remember standing inside shortly thereafter, by the racks of small potted plants, watching the police outside restrain my father, who only wanted see his son, and who raged against words i hope he knew weren't mine. but it was the end, and with the exception of a call when i was 18, when i foolishly and unthinkingly rejected him, i did not see or hear from him again.
25 years later, i found my real father's address in myrtle beach (does anyone else know, or love so much, the line in the aimee mann song?), and i sent him a letter. soon thereafter, there was a voicemail waiting for me at my office. i played it for my beloved boss, robin, and she said, "well, that explains everything - you're half-korean, half-elvis."
i called him, talked to him for really the first time, and one of the first questions he asked was, "are you a musician?" my mother had been a successful singer in south korea, who only wanted to come to america to be a housewife. my father was and is a brilliant man with one of the greatest hearts and loves for music - the purity of music - that i have ever known. my father saw the love and the connection to music in me early on, and in the quarter decade afterwards, a large part of what he imagined and built up as his son was a musician.
the dream of my own identity was the same for me, but i failed that destiny. i lived in fear. i lived everyone's dreams for me but my own. i wanted to write music to save the world. instead, i became a lawyer. nothing could have been further from my heart, my soul, my love, my own destiny. but here i am, a lawyer.
but the love never died. i write, because it's the easiest to do. even to regain the feel and love and freedom of writing, though, i bought a korg triton Le keyboard earlier this year. playing music, improvising without boundary, cut me loose, opened the floodgates of emotion and creativity, and the writing followed.
given all of this, following all of this, tonight was another amazing night in the this transformational time i seem to be experiencing. some other floodgate has opened in my life, i think. yes, by the way, i am writing without capital letters, because i like the smooth, unbroken aesthetic, and because it is easier on my somewhat (entirely) drunken mind.
i came home tonight, carefully, safely. i'll take risks, but will not risk wiping out some family of five in a minivan. came home, checked my email, and there was a gift from the universe, maybe some perpetual karma, of a sort. there was no one to talk to this late, (2:41 AM, despite what goofy-assed blogger.com says), but when i got home, i found an email from a kind voice... a warm sound in my head right now (to steal from the zero 7 song playing). I picked up and hugged each of my cats - and, as i walked to the bathroom to pee, they checked each other out, sniffing, asking, "what the hell was all that about?"
where to start? the uninspiring beginning of course. tonight, dear friends brian and shannon, who, amazingly, were not home for the debate, invited me to a trivia contest at some place out near the north austin corporate apartment weirdness that is "Riata." it's where the dallas cowboys stay when they're in town, which is fine for professional athletes, but creepy for the average human.
as it turns out, no trivia night. and no beer, due to some weirdness with their lease. nice folks, though. so, we finished our meals and rolled to the canary hut (or "canary slut," as my y chromosome loves to contribute). it's a divey little strip-center bar that does the karaoke thing several nights a week.
i just wanted to drink - i had three beers before i reported to work late today, and for the three and a half hours i was there, i just wanted more. but i got to the bar, and with the coaxing of karaoke zealot and personal coach shannon, i put in a song - "wishing well," by terrence trent d'arby.
i shall be honest, for once, rather than self-effacing and self-deprecating. i kicked its ass. i heard comments all night. i sang the song unabashed, without restraint, with all the soul my mother and father gave me.
a girl, who had belted out a powerful rendition of laura brannigan's "gloria," asked me to duet with her. "endless love." turns out, i don't know that song so well. i hit it right at a few points, but much like edwards' superior skills and charisma carrying kerry, she had to carry me.
more beer, more harp. still buoyed my by earlier success, i succombed to shannon and brian's prodding to go dance with jolie, who was one of the better performers of the night. i did stuff i never thought i could do on the dance floor, in the freedom of beer and confidence, and had a great time.
i still, however, needed a chance to redeem myself. the bartender, sheena, was extremely sweet (and ready to cut me off). the karaoke gods granted one last song, and, though hoarse from shouting encouragement to my friends and other singers, i took the stage and dedicated the song, in my best elvis impersonation, to sheena. i sang "i'm just a girl," in best gwen stefani attitude, and was able to force a performance through a tired and and raspy voice.
yeah, i know - beer, karaoke, and ego. a volatile and delusional combination. but what a feeling: to let go, to let your voice come out, unafraid, what is you, actively seeking other ears. i'll take my joy where i find it: my time with my friends; basketball with my beloved teams; emails from people i've never met but already, strangely, respect and love; and in singing, finding my voice, if only for the time and space of a single song.
these things are all i really want. but i want and need to be able to carry the feeling with me through the job, through the dull and unsure and hopeless times. i want to feel the crowd respond to me on a regular basis, to know that i'm being heard, that somehow, i leave something behind, so that i mean something, so that i'm not alone, so this life means something.
forgive me. i'm still drunk. but, ugly or no, i am as you see or hear me now. and now, at 3:12 in the morning, i offer no apology. i just thank you for listening...
yeah, i'll go to bed on that... good night...
Posted by Rob at October 6, 2004 03:28 AM