NOISESTORY

NOISESTORY WAS A forum before BookFace became about. It existed around the same time as YourSpace, and Napster and what not, but it was a little different y’know. It survived BookFace and YourSpace but only for us.

There were plenty of people who contributed. There were plenty of people who just watched. Some people asked for directions to the airport, others asked for opinions on the newest alben at the time. We called them albens then because you could only buy CD’s and it was the Golden Age of Internet Piracy and nobody no one there owned shit – but most of us played in bands so, y’know; we had to listen somehow. Whatever man. Own music if you think you can; but you never will.

So I’ve got about two hours until I go to bed. I keep a very strict schedule. I’m surprised by the joy I get from writing these posts is what I’d think to myself on that forum when I typed. But I never knew what the other people thought. It was always very little celebrity for me, or even accompaniment. It’s always that way. That how I know when I’m doing it right.

They say now there’s no privacy at all. But there was then, maybe. I don’t know. But the forum has been deleted because it was sad. Our friend. It’s just too hard to write about right now. Maybe I’ll confront it one day, like he did. His way. The final way.

I can’t believe I’m alive though, I guess. I thought I’d be dead really early in life because I’m not playing around with it. I tell no lies. I just say what I think and I want to live just as much as I want to die, well; there’s a lot of context to those words if you read them. But it’s just one beat a time. One step at a time. Watch the sun come in the morning. Listen to Apollo. That’s what I do.

So anyways, NOISESTORY had all sorts of things happening on it. We all walked those pages together. People lent each other guitars and equipment. Other people boasted about the girls they’d slept with. Some gave their confessions about abortions. Everyone who participated, participated. It was anonymous to the length it could be; and it felt safe for people to talk: it doesn’t feel safe for people to talk about anything in the world anymore.

Darren was pretty good. He was funny. A guy I lived with used to copy his posts and then post them on another forum to sound funnier than he was himself. He works in finance or something now trying to rip people off for all they’re worth. He had a temper problem. He wasn’t very big and there has never been any meat on his bones. He once said to me that everyone at his work hates him. I guess you just do what you think you gotta do when you don’t think about what you want to do.

So where was I? Oh yeah. The forum, the forum was good. It’s deleted now. Never to be seen again although we see things pop up from it from time to time. People knew people who died at concerns, or stabbed people while also being the drummer in band. No rapes. But there were rapists. I’m sure of it. But that never got confessed. It's just the way the wind blows huh? And it’s all happening again, and again, and again, and AGAIN.

When does it get better? Only we decide. Everyone calls me a lunatic. Am I the lunatic? Am I? Or are you?