What did it take for us to brush the gossamers of our complacent or indifferent stupor to us to collectively realize just how important democracy is? An election that looked like it was going to take this country closer than it has ever been to a potential authoritarian regime led by a man who shouldn’t be trusted with a potato gun, much less the codes to nuclear weapons. In 2016, our ignorance about the constitution, about our own sordid historical genesis, and our inability to decipher conspiracy from detrimental lunacy elected a glorified tyrant and megalomaniac into the most prestigious office in the world. I write this seething with anger, as I too was part of that problem. In 2016, I became so apathetic about the two candidates in front of me that I sat out what I thought was circus of an election.
Donald Trump was not the clown. I was. In two Massachusetts cities, the election literally came down to one vote. ONE VOTE. That ONE vote in each respective city was what led to a Joe Biden victory. It goes without saying that we can no longer be cynical about the power of our right to vote. While I watch so many people in my community celebrating from the comfort of their homes (still diligently adhering to social distancing) or pouring into the streets of those key battleground states (thankfully, masked…although the social distancing needs some work) what I seeing isn’t hubris or that OUR TEAM IS THE BEST! Post Super Bowl/World Series bullshit…I am watching entire communities realize how close they and this amazing country came to extinction. It only took a global pandemic, a volatile sociopath tweeting from his insulated world of sycophants and likeminded criminals, and a newfound paranoia over whether you should trust your local law enforcement, relatives, neighbors, and top brass decision makers in regard to adhering to any kind of sincere moral compass or incorruptible integrity. I am thirty-three years old and it took me THIS long to figure out that I don’t know nearly enough about the history of my country and this government than I fucking should. There is SO much work that must be done in education, in law enforcement, in government, but most importantly? In every single one of us. Its not enough to say inclusion is important to our communities, we must fight for inclusion and understand how to be more inclusive. It is not enough to say racism is wrong or bad, we must work toward expunging structural racism and looking deep within ourselves to identify our privilege and the areas where we need more work to become anti-racist. It is not enough to say that we appreciate the reproductive rights of all women, we must do that very awful thing that is going to bring up some shit that makes us realize…maybe I wasn’t the good guy. We need to self-interrogate ourselves and say, are we happy with how we have or how we currently treat women? Their rights, and have we always done our best to take a step back and try to live vicariously through them and identify the areas where they have felt personally victimized, ignored, or rejected. I realize this is such a tall order, but because of the country we live in…we are getting our only mulligan. This is the time to appreciate America as the land of opportunity. What opportunity is in front of us? The opportunity to do better. Be greater. If you failed to recognize your privilege, heed the cries from the Black Lives Matter movement, if you see prejudice take place in your home or business? Speak up! If you find yourself getting that promotion over your female co-worker, ask yourself…is this truly merit based. Did I earn this? Rather than accepting and never wondering if you got it because of privilege. Four years in Donald Trump’s America, and I realized how much work we all have ahead of us to ensure that this nightmare never EVER happens again. When I found out that Biden had one the election, I immediately ran out of my bathroom and turned on CNN and screamed for joy to my son…”HE’S ONE AND DONE! WE DID IT BABY! BAD GUY TRUMP LOST!” The absolute elation on his face is something I can’t even begin to illustrate for you. All it took during this pandemic for my son to make that deduction was how arrogant, apathetic, mean, and irresponsible this man was about COVID-19. My son lost someone so close to him (a woman who lived at his mom’s nursing home) and I swear to you…that was the day he realized what Trump really was. Sure, it could have bad Dad yelling at the television, or having mental breakdowns when Trump spewed his deflective rhetoric at anyone and everyone who challenged him…but my three year old can spot apathy when he sees it. I am not going to sugar coat it…we still have a long road ahead of us. Trump is going to try to fight dirty. He already refused to a peaceful transfer of power. I don’t want to scare anyone, but you all remember when he addressed the proud boys and told them to stand down and “stand by,” yeah…this is what he was talking about. He knew he was going to lose; he knew had the public trust (outside of his cult) among undecided voters and that he never had it with the rest of us. I am praying that this gets resolved with Trump being escorted out of the White House and right into a courtroom where he will be forced to stand trial for his crimes against humanity…but that could just be wishful thinking. We have a new president and vice president, and for the first time in four years? I can finally say we have a president and vice president. However, long after Donald J. Trump is an afterthought…remember those who deified and weaponized him. Remember the complete lack of humanity and humility that came out of these four years. Do not dwell, but do not forget. Why? Because these are the people, we need to hold accountable. These are the moments we need to galvanize this country toward improving. At the end of the day? Work toward a collective and shared goal to be better than what we bore witness to from 2016 until the horrifying finale in 2020. God Bless America. God Bless Democracy. Stay safe. Take Care. Move forward. This is our second chance, never forget how close we came to the end.
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In 2001, a few weeks removed from 9/11 I was walking around town when I spotted this ridiculous doomsday book sitting at a payphone near the local library. At the time I was really fascinated with literature written by dogmatic doomsayers and also somewhat amused by how grossly and unabashedly homophobic and baseless their claims were. How could anyone actually take this shit seriously? It was glorified hate rhetoric disguised as a prognostication of things to come if western civilization did not repent and heed the word of God. To me? It was evidence that religion was more of a tool to manipulate and exploit people who were (rightfully, so) fearful about the trajectory of our country's future considering we were on the precipice of nuclear extinction (depending on who you asked) by goading that fear and weaponizing it to use against groups of non-religious or non-conformist followers. When I got home I read it, scoffed at it and then it just went into a pile of shit I collected that made me grateful I wasn't as gullible or easily triggered by the words someone printed. Then it was the weekend and I was loading my bass guitar in my parents' car on my way to my guitar lesson when I watched my fanatical mother racing to the car waving a copy of this very book in the air... The unnerving part wasn't that an additional copy of a book that I told no one I found and took home with me found its way to me...it had been sent FIRST CLASS. I finally told my best friend at the time later that night about what I found and showed up what arrived in the mail... To date, I still have NO idea who sent me that other copy first class. Why they did, and more importantly how the hell they got my address? That spooked a few friends in high school. I forgot about this until recently when I was going through some clutter and realized I still had both copies. I don't read as much into it now, it just feels like a fun and bizarre story to share with people. Figured it might be an interesting pre-election day thing to share (considering it feels like we are in fact on the verge of doomsday and the authors of this garbage could potentially rule the world if Trump is re-elected). Stay safe everyone and stay positive! I know its hard, but its all we have left.
I have been adapting to a new phone for the last week or so, at thirty-three I am about as technologically savvy as my grandparents were with the VCR in 1992. I am two more frustrated attempts at getting my professional e-mail linked to my phone away from handing it to my three year old and acquiescing that both age and ineptitude will have me at the tender mercies of my children. I have no problem admitting publicly that my three-year-old is much sharper and smarter than I could ever hope to be. To make a short story long, I finally checked in to my other e-mail tonight to find that I did in fact get a response from a library that has accepted my book!
The news comes three days after having what I am told was a successful first public reading and Q&A for Nothing to Get Nostalgic About. I cannot even begin to articulate what that experience was like. My childhood best friend Allison said it best last night “just seeing the people there made me smile,” yeah…that is probably the most accurate account of Friday evening’s reading. My son’s teacher was there, she brought all her book club friends, my poetry thesis professor and my poetry mama attended, Mrs. Burnham showed up to support me, and so many friends of twenty years or more all came and had brilliant questions about the book. My friend put so much emphasis on how special that was and asked what it felt like. Honestly? You can’t really anticipate this sort of thing, and when the book came closer to publication, I made an effort not to build up expectations in my head for it. I wanted to just let things manifest organically for better and for worse. I am fortunate that people (even those who have known me since I was a kid) genuinely wanted to know about the process, what inspired the characters, and inquire about a lot of the lore that exists within the story. As for now? I would love to do another reading if the interest is there to do one. As for tonight? I’d love to just sit and hopefully come up with some new poetry. There are ideas for a new manuscript, but I don’t want to force anything while I’m trying to promote this current novel. An audiobook is currently in the works, and hopefully I will hear from more local libraries about the fate of the book. I feel good, still cautiously optimistic but good. Hopefully this story will find more readers and people will let me know if another reading is something they’d love to be part of.
Something I never thought I would ever get to say, this is the eve before my very first (and probably only) book reading. I would be lying if I said that I am feeling nonchalant or confident about it. Given the current pandemic, a lot of writers/musicians/artists/creators are left to their own devices regarding how they are promoting their work and trying to reach out to their respective audiences. Prior to the publication of this novel, I had zero interest in going back to social media due to my apprehension about the polarizing climate I was expecting to confront. Fortunately, I have been privileged to connect with some amazing people who have been engaging with me and having some amazing conversations.
That is what I am hoping for tomorrow night. To treat it less like something I should get stage fright about, or something that should be treated as daunting due to my lack of experience with ZOOM or Instagram Live but as a rare and fleeting opportunity to talk to people about a piece of writing that I never thought would ever come to fruition. I have not obsessively prepared for it which makes me think I am on the verge of an absolute disaster, but frankly? I want whatever happens tomorrow to manifest organically. I hate reading anything in front of people, honestly that is the part (well, in addition to operating ZOOM on my own) that I am most afraid of. However, I methodically picked a passage that means the most to me and I am hoping it will induce fewer panic attacks and more of a conviction to have it spoken out loud. I do plan to wear a costume, and I hope others will do the same. Its not mandatory, but it was another methodical effort to make this feel more fun and less like a scary endeavor in trying to reach out to readers who may or may not show up. So, here we are. The link will follow the end of this little stream of consciousness. I am looking forward to anyone showing up, and hopefully showing up with questions or something they would like to talk about having read or actively reading the book. It is going to a very innocuous evening, but in my head, it still feels like I am playing my first concert at TD Garden. I do not say that because I am vain, I say that because I am also excited to be able to do this. I am horrified, but also horrified with a conviction to just let things fall into place. I hope I see and hear from you tomorrow. With everything going on, it would be such a thrill. Stay safe everyone, and hopefully I will see youtomorrow!
It all started with a newsletter…
My wife and I woke up this morning to her reading Mrs. Luti’s newsletter to all the parents of the children who go to her school. She shared a link to my book and talked about the reading I am doing this Friday on ZOOM. My wife and I don’t get a ton of opportunities to talk in between her work schedule and our kids, so she was SO proud to see that Mrs. Luti had wanted to promote the book. “You’re dedicating your reading to James?” I also didn’t get the chance to tell her that I wanted to do something special for the Luti family, as small of a gesture as it probably is…but yes, I want to dedicate the evening to his memory and to address a few issues regarding the stigma of mental illness and talk about the families before I am off to the races. Look, this novel deals so heavily with mental illness and the detriment of ignoring it that I saw an opportunity to speak up for James as someone who has survived and is still trying to navigate his way through mental illness. It would be irresponsible of me to have an opportunity to be heard, and not acknowledge the amazing people and families who are coping with loss daily. So, my wife clicked on the Barnes and Noble link I provided and saw that the Saugus location was listing physical copies on hand. My wife being my wife, sent me out on an assignment to track down these copies and send her pictures.
What happened next is simply….I wheeled the stroller over to the magazine section with the hope of finding a depressed nineteen year old with a long mop of hair who was too poor to afford magazines to help him get published so he was scribbling addresses in a notebook and looking over his shoulder like he was committing a crime. I wanted to find that nineteen-year-old and scream at him…GET UP! WALK OVER TO THE FICTION SECITON! EDDIE! YOU DID IT…GO OVER THERE AND LOOK AT IT! Instead, I had my two boys and then another thought entered my head. This is all they know. At one and three? I am not the father who wants to be an author or is struggling to get through his book…. they can fucking hold it. We are in the store I spent so much time in as a young man trying to figure out how to become an author…and my name is on their shelves.
I was checking out (had to get Dylan some prizes for being so good) when I joked about the surreal nature of the visit to the clerk who immediately wanted me to track down her manager so I could sign the books they had on hand. I was awkward and uncomfortable about the idea, but then I looked at my sons and thought…don’t be awkward, this is not a walk out of here avoiding the situation moment, this is you’re kids are fucking watching you. I approached the manager, she asked if I knew where the books were, and I brought them to her. She handed me a sharpie and had “signed copy” stickers ready to go. Both women were so congenial, so supportive, and absolute sweethearts to the nervous disheveled father of two in the Bret Hart hoodie. I didn’t feel like I had made it, I felt like I was again, doing something bad. I was scribbling in their merchandise. When I got to the car and recorded the video on Instagram…I couldn’t help but notice my kids again and think…wait, this is normal to them. I grew up seeing the sadness and the unmitigated sense of failure of someone who wanted to write a book and sabotaged herself every chance she had. My sons are growing up with me bringing them into bookstores and being asked to sign my name. That is the greatest feeling about this whole experience to date…to my sons? I am not someone trying, I am not someone failing, I am. I am a writer. I walked into that store today, haunted by the specters of pain, rejection, sadness, destitution, and just really bad memories of how hard I was trying and getting nowhere both creatively and personally…and I walked out with my babies, who know that I am a daddy…and a writer. I walked out of a Barnes and Noble today a published author. I can’t wrap my head around that.
This is my son...holding a copy of my book in a Barnes & Noble, that I later signed because the sweetheart clerk encouraged me to seek out her manager and talk about doing so. He saw that today. That is something my son saw me do today. The buck toothed, crooked feet, creepy Kurt Cobain kid who Mrs. V. tortured in 4th and 5th grade took his babies to one of the biggest book chains today to find his book and was told he should sign it by the staff. If it gets better than that? Then I am not ready for it because I could barely handle what happened today. What I am is what I am...and to my kids? That's a dada and a guy who signs books.
One of the bigger aspects about this book (for me) is that I hope to use it as an opportunity to create conversation among readers, or anyone who invests the time in its content and its characters. Because I now find myself with a platform (albeit, a diminutive one) I really want to use it to bring awareness to bigger issues or causes. That story deals so heavily with mental illness, and what a toxic and detrimental role stigma plays in that. I was thinking about how much my son's teacher has done for both my son and my family, that I really wanted to do something for her family. We have only known each other such a short time, but ALL the progress she has made with my son and all the support her whole family has shown me and this book? I felt that I needed to return the favor.
While "Nothing to Get Nostalgic About," is MY story...there are so many people out there (families, survivors, victims, etc) who have their own stories. On Friday I am hosting a virtual book reading/Q&A for the book, and I decided that if anyone shows up? I'd like to also share James' story and the story of his remarkable family. After the tragic passing of their teenage son, the Luti's launched the JL11 Fund as a cathartic way to deal with his death but also to reach out and offer support and resources to other families affected by suicide and depression. Because of COVID, organizations like JL11 and the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention were unable to host their annual walks for suicide prevention and awareness. You have know idea what these walks mean for the survivors of lost ones who succumbed to suicide and even those who survived suicide...this is the ONE time a year they get to REALLY heal, and address the specter of suicide that lingers on their minds every year. Because of COVID, SO many people lost this one day a year where they can truly come together and heal as a community. Mrs Luti and her family also host their own walk for their son's friends and everyone who loved him so much. They were also unable to host a gathering this year. While its not going to be a big event, hell...I will be lucky to call it modest, I really wanted to provide an opportunity for the Luti's to get their story out there and work through the trauma of James' death while also having the chance to reach out to others. Friday night, I will be dedicating my reading to James and his amazing family. Please, if you have the time and the resources go over to JL11 Fund and read THEIR story. If you can contribute even a small donation? I know it would mean the world to them. They deserve it, for all the miracles they continue to create for families like my own. Mrs. Luti goes above and beyond for her students, and she does this with the heaviest of hearts over her baby. If there is any way I can try to promote her mission as an educator and improve the quality of their lives while dealing with the loss of their son? I would give or do anything. This coming Friday, October 30th at 7 p.m. on ZOOM and Instagram Live. I will read a passage from the book, and tell you stories behind the book and answer any questions you might have. Hopefully I can also help this family out as they have done so much for my own. If you're around? Check it out. Wear a costume. Donate if you can. Most importantly? Have fun. I dropped off my oldest son at his school today when his teacher's daughter (she also teachers at the school) told me that she had started reading the book and was really enjoying it. Her mother then excitedly told me that her book club were all super gripped, one of them even told her that my writing style was similar to Neil Gaiman which was a really nice compliment to hear. After twenty-four hours without a working phone, I was really shocked to see that I had been tagged in two posts about it. Its really exciting to read about people's reactions to the story, and hopefully a lot of them will show up this time next Friday for the ZOOM reading/Q&A. I can't begin to emphasize how flattered and honored it has been for people to give me personal shout outs on their pages, and to hear that they have been sharing this book with their friends/book groups. I really hope you all come out, I am making this available both via ZOOM (figure this will be easier for questions) and Instagram live (for those who are a little curious) and I really hope those of you who join have lots of questions! That's honestly the part I am looking forward to the most, wondering what people would love to know about the story.
So there it is, Next Friday, October 30th at 7 p.m. on ZOOM (I will make the link available on Thursday) and Instagram live. Follow me @eddiebrophywriter and we'll be off to the races! What happens when the story is over? The fictional one at least. The living ones, the people who inspired the narrative…the ones still with us. They’re still trying to figure it out. A few people have asked me, is there a Nothing to Get Nostalgic About 2? No. There isn’t. In the world I created, I left it up to the readers to determine what becomes of those who survived it. In real life? The one’s who survived it? We’re still trying to figure it out.
I have been without a phone since nine in the morning (I dropped it in the toilet accidentally last night, then got mad and threw it and subsequently REALLY ruined it after growing frustrated with it) and all I am left with are my thoughts and a lot of throwback radio. When did we collectively decide that the only music worth hearing had to be twenty, thirty years behind us? Eddie Van Halen is dead, but it feels like people buried more than an innovative virtuoso. The radio made me so depressed today, its like the only good thing is still behind us. What a shitty narrative for this pandemic. Everyone is still searching for what was before it, no one can even fathom a future after it. I am so sick of feeling like the best things about life are behind me. I can’t blame anyone, I guess that’s just how this administration and its cult have propagated the idea of a better future. Before I lost my phone? I was having amazing texts with people I barely knew and loved my whole life about what a gift time is. I am not ready to give up. I still think are best days are ahead of us, I must. I have two gorgeous boys who are helping me grow up and figure this stuff out. I am a week away from talking to myself or a very modest few who want to hear me talk via ZOOM about this story. I tried to kill myself a lot. After every attempt, I woke up wondering what was stopping me from just doing me in. I became angrier and angrier, why the fuck can’t I just die? I have nothing keeping me here. Now I have Dylan and Ryder. The world has to keep evolving and I have to keep getting better for them…they deserve it. Why do they deserve to have everything that was robbed from me? Because when I get manic, upset, frustrated, furious, and work myself into a frenzy, they still love me after. They aren’t afraid of me or my illness, in fact my oldest so much empathy today it is still making me cry. “Dada, please don’t get so angry that you feel that way again.” This was after I beat up a laundry basket and ruined my phone. “Dada, it’s okay.” How does he know to talk like that? Please do not ruin inanimate objects you need and have a headache dealing with later? The poor kid was trying to poop and I went nuts on my phone. I hate feeling like I have no control over my life. I hate feeling so helpless and so useless. I hate even more that I was so furious with my phone because it’s the only thing that makes me feel less lonely than I do every day. I hate that with two gorgeous little boys and a wife…I still need to feel less lonely. When am I going to stop feeling like that lonely little kid? When am I going to let go of the anger of being that kid? I love my children so much; I don’t want them to see me so lonely or afraid. When is the past going to stop hurting all the time? I don’t want to live in a world of throwback channels, I want to watch them grow up and embrace their new culture and sound. Today wasn’t about my phone. The radio. I am scared that what happened to me as a kid is always going to obscure what they do. I know it won’t, I am still afraid it might. I am excited for the future because of them. They deserve it. When the fuck am I just going to stop hurting that I didn’t get the future I hope like hell they know they deserve? I finally got the mixer up and running today on the laptop. I even started the audiobook version that my wife keeps badgering me about. I know she is right, it is the most realistic next step. I have no idea what I'm doing, so even if I successfully finish it? What the hell am I going to do with it? Its a shame, I used to podcast quite a bit in my early twenties and I never had the equipment like I do now. I started entertaining the idea of scrapping an audio book entirely and doing a limited run podcast where I pick out specific passages from the book and extrapolate where they came from...I even like the idea of adding in different sound effects and maybe getting the help of others to play the characters and recite their lines. All I know, is that this is the idea stage of everything. I just don't want to get stuck in trying to promote this thing. I've stated before, I'd love to start writing and submitting poems again and I do have another manuscript I had planned to write after I finished Nostalgic back in 2018. I have to keep reminding myself that there is no rush. This book took three years to come to fruition.
I want to do what I never do, I want to be present for once rather than dwelling ten years ago or freaking out about what I should be doing ten years from now. My old radio mentor and very favorite human being Mike had messaged me on Instagram today to tell me he finally got his copy in the mail. He was (as always) very supportive and told me that he thinks I did something very special. I don't know exactly what that is, but I hope its something that can resonate with others. I was in a really awful place from 2000 until the end of summer 2018. By 2018, I was as full-time stay at home parent to my oldest and I finally managed to finish my fifth manuscript. This one was different, this was by far the most vulnerable I had been in writing even more so than the poems I had published. It was also largely motivated by what my graduate poetry professor Melanie Faith was getting out of me for my thesis work. At the time, I stopped talking to my two older sisters. I just needed to figure out what was making me so awful about being me and why I needed to destroy me. I then wound up with this story about three siblings trying to survive their family and navigate the doomed future they all seemed inevitable to succumb to. It removed so much emotional baggage from me, and that October? My wife handed me a pregnancy test and I learned that we had another baby on the way. It all seemed to fit, having spent so much time with my oldest I was finding my confidence as a man and a parent and learning that another was on the way made me realize I had more to live for now. I eventually forgot about this book until November of 2019 when Atmosphere Press were looking for manuscripts and I took a chance. The following month? I ran into the bedroom to wake my wife up and show her the acceptance letter. I don't know what happens next. I hope it finds its readers. I hope people walk away from it with something more than they read an okay book. I am both excited and terrified, but I have to be honest with you? As someone with more farewell attempts under his belt than Cher and Motley Crue combined? I am at peace with being a published author who might not sell hundreds of books, than being someone who couldn't exist feeling like such a failure and never knowing if it would happen. So, I will work on an audio book...I will do this reading next Friday (which I decided I'll do as both a ZOOM and Instagram live) and who knows. All I know? Every day above ground is a good day.
This is the MOST important election I have ever voted in. I voted for Biden. On a personal note? When Trump went into office? I couldn't afford the co-pay for therapy. I couldn't afford to medications I needed to treat my bi-polar disorder. I stopped taking medication to treat my mental illness, because I literally couldn't afford it. My therapist waived the insane co-pay my provider demanded once Trump took office. This man does not care about you, no matter how much of his rhetoric you are convinced is truth. Before my life took her new job? COVID-19 wiped out twenty-percent of her nursing home, one of those residents was a close family friend. I am angry, REAL angry. I voted, because its not enough to be angry I needed to take action.
If you vote Trump for four more years? His reign of terror may not have hit you yet, but its going to. Don't think about how much you hate liberals, think about your children, your parents, your neighbors, your relatives, your friends. Every single one of them in one form or another has suffered because of his four years in office. This isn't an endorsement, this is me begging you....fucking listen to reason! |
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