Jonny Numb

The things that distinguish so-called “adulthood” from childhood are: going to work because you have to (instead of going to school because they make you), ensuring that the bills are paid on time, and keeping track of appointments (adults just love to schedule shit). On the upside, adults also have the freedom to do what they please (as time and finances permit) – just make sure it’s legal.

[wink wink!]

Another thing about adulthood: as you get older, unexpected speed bumps crop up. Medical emergencies, interpersonal conflicts, and the inevitability of mortality for our loved ones (and ourselves) are unavoidable facts of life.

To rewind a bit: let’s go back to that post where I discussed my bad habit of flaking on concerts and shows.

All caught up? Good!

I’ve been a fan of Otep for maybe a decade. I’ve always wanted to see them live – and even had the opportunity on a few occasions – but always found excuses to stay home instead (“I’m not familiar with the venue!”; “I don’t feel like going out tonight!”). This is noteworthy because I’m notoriously picky when it comes to metal. Like Noise bands, I find that a little exposure goes a long way.

So maybe what I’m really saying is, I’m not a big metal guy.

But when it was announced that Otep would play at Lovedraft’s Brewing Company – one of my favorite venues, in part because it’s so close to my house – I decided it was a cosmic sign that I, finally, had to see this band.

I managed to be the first person in the general-admission queue (30 minutes before doors), and was thankful that the configuration started in a spot that was blocking out the late-afternoon sun. More people converged as time passed. Inside, I could hear one of the opening bands – Spider Rockets or September Mourning – doing sound check.

After a quick metal-detector scan and bathroom run, I claimed my usual spot at the bar (sans my usual show-going companion, who was in Newark waiting on a flight to Leipzig – his loss!). After the initial wave of show-goers had entered, there was a lull before the space began to fill in proper.

I commiserated with Otep’s merch girl, who complimented my HEALTH shirt (“this is the closest thing to a metal shirt that I own,” I told her). I bought a shirt (all 3 designs were pretty cool) and asked if there was a way to leave a tip on a credit-card transaction. She seemed grateful that I asked, and I used the shirt to “claim” my seat throughout the night.

I tried the Retro & Rad tie-in beer (very fruity!), ordered my usual Grilled Cheesus with pulled pork and fries, made small talk with a girl whose order was up at the same time (she always says “Girl Cheesus” when she orders a “Grilled Cheesus”; I mistook what she said as “Grilled Jesus,” and wondered, “maybe that’s how Godflesh got their name?” and we had a laugh).

The local opener had fallen through for vague reasons, but therein lies something else about adulthood – early nights are your friend. So Spider Rockets kicked off the show at 7 with their female-fronted brand of radio rock, followed by the Gothed-up façade of metal act September Morning.

When Otep took the stage, I wasn’t sure what to expect. But the crowd had filled in nicely (not uncomfortably) and was very into the performance, putting up horns and fists and X’s at frontwoman Otep Shamaya’s request. What struck me was how driven their set was, pummeling the crowd with sheer momentum for an hour and change. Even when Otep ventured offstage between songs to pick up a prop for the next one, the band kept the music and rhythm going, which kept the crowd on their feet. (Nothing worse than a gap in the performance where you can hear people chattering.) They closed out the set with a Nirvana cover.

I returned to the merch stand as the band played their final notes (“he returns!” the merch girl exclaimed), and picked up some stickers with a $20 bill I’d forgotten I had. I told her, “could you tell [Otep] to come back again?” and proceeded to (over-) explain my affinity for Lovedraft’s and its proximity to my current address.

I guess we’ll see what happens – in any case, I’m glad I went out and (finally) got to see Otep live.

All of the pictures I took of their set are like looking into your retinas, so here’s a slightly less awful (but still not that great) photo taken during September Mourning’s set.

Herein lies the tonal shift.

I had Wednesday off for a two-fold reason – to get my car into the shop for an under-the-wire State Inspection…and to take my partner to support a friend who’d just lost her mother after an extended battle with leukemia.

My birth-parents and grandparents are gone. Needless to say, I’ve acquired some insight into the realm of grief.

I wouldn’t say I “enjoy” the atmosphere that hangs heavy during viewings and funeral services, but having experienced the Reaper’s actions has helped me be more equipped – mentally and emotionally – for these spiritually draining times. I feel a certain ease with functioning in a “support” capacity – a sometimes-literal shoulder to cry on. Experiencing loss first-hand imbues a rudimentary understanding of what the mourners are thinking and feeling (to a certain extent, anyway; everybody’s experience is different).

Some folks reach for platitudes and religion to help explain the “how” and “why” of loss. People cleave to what makes sense to them, as death presents the Great Unknown. Even for the most spiritual, it’s a test of faith; you can read as much as you want out of a book, but no living person has brought back a feather from an angel’s wing after they were legally dead for 5 minutes.

The bottom line is: we believe what we feel we must believe to see ourselves through the process and maintain some semblance of sanity.

Death knocks us off our pedestals, often without warning, and shakes our lives to their very foundations. It’s okay to cry in the presence of others; it’s okay to cry at the funeral and into the days, weeks, and months beyond.

And maybe everybody is struck with this horrific thought: now that this person is gone, what if I forget about them?

It may sound cliche, but it’s also true: if you loved the person (not saying you had to love them all day, every day, for all of their living days), you retain the memories and feelings you have associated with them.

I still think about my birth-mother on a daily basis, even though my stepmother has been in my life longer than her at this point. I still think about my dad. Sometimes the memories are pleasant and wistful; other times, I consider the things that could have been and the relational weaknesses we aren’t equipped to consider until adulthood rears its ugly, catastrophizing head.

Despite our fleeting time at the viewing, I was reassured by the line of support extending out the door of the funeral home. I was encouraged by how the attendees were stopping to talk (and listen) to each family member. I was also impressed that at least four people planned on reading something to commemorate the deceased’s life.

When I chose to read something at my father’s funeral, I had doubts as to whether I’d be able to get through the five-odd minutes without breaking down, but I did, and it felt somehow better afterward.

And in all honestly, it’s the personal reminisces that break funeral services out of the “song-and-scripture-and-sermon” routine of a typical Sunday morning at church.

Not to sound morbid, but part of me regretted not being able to stay for those reminisces. But, not unlike the Otep show the night before, I’m glad I went.