I'm Donating My Brain to "Science", They're Retrieving It Tomorrow.

emaciated days

I often ponder the root of my madness. I truly believe it's arthritis and concussions. I had the arthritis before I had the psoriasis — I was 15, and everyone told me I was lying. I thought existence was supposed to be pain all over the place. I got the psoriasis three years later, covering almost my entire body, and became a monster. It's why I learned to play guitar and started writing songs.

I wore a topical in the sun for an hour and got covered in second-degree burns... took it like a champ. Enbrel was nasty stuff — I was wasting away so I quit it and started smoking weed. It definitely gave me a second wind.

Even as a disgusting, arthritic, psoriatic monster, I always kept my sense of humor. I was always aware that people were aware that I was tough to look at. I never minded addressing the psoriasis, because everyone has a story: "I have a little patch on my knee, I'm so self-conscious about it." People would tell me I’m so strong for living my life: "I couldn’t do what you do." I'd play shows and my guitar strap would saw through my shoulder. My shirt would have blood on it. My skin would just come off like paper. My life was a David Cronenberg movie.

Side note... What's the worst that can happen driving my bike straight down the top of a tall hill? Front wheel wobble at 30 mph, crash, 25 foot slide, road rash. I had at least three concussions as a kid, I lost count as an adult. A lot of bells were rung in my twenties and thirties. Beer cans and microphones to the noggin to invoke the crimson mask. Head banging. Car accidents. I have a hard time drawing a clock from memory. I increasingly feel confused by the world around me. I don't know if it's due to changes in my brain or changes in the world. I'm just riding the wave, baby.