I haven't really given much thought to it lately, but my rekindling love for all things Sublime seem to be stirring up memories of the practice space lately. It was a special time in my life that will never be able to be replicated, in time or feelings.
See, once upon a time, there was a war. Well, this war needed parts built so they built little factory buildings all over this area; a good number of them next to railroad tracks (obviously). Well this one particular one-story, off white cinder-block building was, essentially, my home away from home for a while. It was converted to random little rooms with windy hallways and particularly interesting bathrooms, then was rented out as practice spaces to local bands. And starting towards the end on my senior year of high school, I spent most of my weekend time there with DBD.
So many memories; so much happiness; so much stupidity; lots of drunkenness; my first drunken puking; the gay Nazi; and so much drama. The walls to that building held so many stories. It knew so many of my secrets; witnessed my tears; and experienced my joy.
It was there that I first talked to my college roommate, a time when I was curious and nervous both about living with someone that I had never met, let alone one that started out as a fashion major. ;) It was there that Dark Cheetah and I spent so many nights shoulder to shoulder on the floor in the back hallway talking without ever speaking. It was there I went on and on about not being able to find my Milky Way bar. It was there that I watched so many rounds of hacky-sack on that crumbling driveway. It was there that Safi learned that Francis Drake and I weren't brother and sister. It was there sitting below the window one drafty, cold winter night with the lights dimmed and my drawing pad on my lap that I knew Northwood wasn't for me. It was there that I first hated Sublime and 311. It was there that I then fell in love with both Sublime and 311. It was there that I witnessed the only time I ever saw Dark in jean shorts. It was there that we dealt with the Rants, whom lived in their practice room. It was there that Safi went to bat for me and kicked the shaving Rant out of the girls bathroom (The guys bathroom was quite gross and the girls was only used by me, technically but not really) because I really had to pee and he didn't want me to have to use the guys bathroom. It was there that I first slapped Dark because he needed it. It was there that I watched a human head butt the cement sidewalk and be perfectly fine afterward. It was there that I learned to jump out of the way when a beer got kicked over. It was there that I cooked up my brilliant plan that since I was past my curfew, I would just never go home again (never said I was sober for this one...) It was there that Dark, Tommy and I layed on the hood of the Grand Marquis way past my curfew staring at the sky and pondering who knows what. It was there that I felt like I could escape from it all. It was there that I knew I was invincible. It was there that I lay in the backseat of the Grand Marquis for an hour or two and puked up neon yellow-green rice and Mike's Hard Lemonade while the Maintenance Man and his lackeys kept thinking I actually was in a place to talk. It was there that I perfected my placement of red tape, starting with the inlaid peavey case. It was there that I bared my soul to my best friend.
And it was there that certain songs got so ingrained into my psyche that to hear them today instantly transports me back to both rooms I was privy to. They take me back to sitting on a beat up metal chair with my eyes closed feeling myself become one with the music. Those songs taught me to appreciate the off beats. Those songs are a part of me. Those songs played a big part in who I am today. Those songs will always make me think of the good times.
The building has long since been torn down and a YMCA raised in it's place, but I will forever remember the smell of that building: stale cigarettes, spilled beer, and a certain electricity that crackles in the air from live music.
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