Become the Void

All the seasons are unified by the fact they all have nights that feel alive.

Nights where around midnight, one am, two am, the air is still, a pregnant pause, a sense that not only is anything possible, but that it’s all about to happen, its all about to change.

In spring, they’re the first 70 degree night, you take off your light jacket and bike home with friends, blasting emo relics, full throated and raw. Let’s be young.

In summer, there’s a stickiness, coating every surface and every body, you sit outside at a bar, polishing back cheap beer and shot combos, eating french fries. For some reason Johnny Cash comes on, but Ring of Fire feels like it lasts 10 minutes.

In fall, crisp leaves coat the street, you’re walking home from a Halloween party, you just saw a band named “The Meat Sweats” at a house show in a neighborhood that means everything to the punk DIY scene, spoken about outside your city in reverent tones.

In winter, the cold is left behind as snow covers the world, insulating sound, the energy winter steals from the world once per year is gone, replaced by an electricity, a magnetism, a childish levity of snow days, snowball fights, of freezing in a garage during a house show.

I hunger for these moments. My hope is that at some point, some night everything will change, for everyone, that we will all take to the streets in victory, we will hold eachother arm in arm, we will laugh, we will break down and cry in the middle of the thoroughfare.

Nights like these are the font of the abyss, the void, it is when emptiness creeps into our lives it is up to use to paint the canvas however we deem fit.

And so we must become the void, become the abyss, become empty, thus I prognosticate forth spewing these words, barfing forth this apocalyptica, et cetera, et cetera as we all slide into perdition.

This emptiness is not resignation, nor is it a claim to strength, discard such notions, burn them, take the ashes, salt the earth whence they stood, and drop the ashes into the deepest trench of the Sea (our abyssal mother) itself. Nay, these words are a salve, a balm, a guiding light.

Follow them if you will, if you do, I’ll be there right next to you, you’ll always have an ally and so you’ll never be alone and isn’t that all that matters, in the end?