Life Lessons Learned From the Give Up Club

That is the topic assigned to me by my pal Kevin. Last night, we were at the Bigfoot Lodge here in Los Feliz, which is a bar that uses the Disney Country Bear Jamboree theme throughout as decor. There is, sadly, only one animatronic creature in the place; a badger popping out of a tree trunk. There are stuffed dead things on the walls and plastic wildlife (some of it lifesize, even the Smokey the Bear) on the ground for drunk hip kids to pet, if they feel like it.

The DJ night was presented by the kids in the Jealous Sound and Postal Service, and the evening was called the "Give Up" club. I think the email said something about "beautiful music to make you cry." The music was all sad, slow, pretty and somewhat reflective. Stuff like My Bloody Valentine, Galaxie 500, Velvet Underground & even a lovely dose of Neil Young ("Helpless" almost made my friend and I weep). The only other time I've ever heard Dead Can Dance in a drinking establishment, there were people in leather corsets and fishnets also flailing about.

I guess it may sound like a bummer of an evening, but it wasn't. People were having a good time: talking, drinking, singing along... Supposedly, Luke Wilson was there making out with some girl at the bar, but I didn't see him. Isn't that always the way?

I asked Kevin what I should write about in the oh-so-sexy blog, and he says (after some thought): "Life lessons learned from the Give Up Club." I think for me to have picked up a life lesson, something more important should have happened while I was there. BUT, I can say that making me think about that made me think about some other things too.

At this time last year, I was convinced that I was going to die. I had been having some very serious health problems and was going through some major life stuff at the same time. Not fun. There were far too many doctors involved for it to be fun. I was also very heartbroken, which wasn't being helped by the health and lack of employment issues. I couldn't listen to music. Not at all. And for me, that's pretty bad. I felt like every song hit too close, or was full of lies, or meant too much, or was too pretty or too sad to be heard. Music itself actually hurt my insides. (At this time, I watched a hell of a lot of E! - nothing more mindnumbing than that, I think!)

But time went by, my friends kept telling me nice things, and eventually, it got better. I got really into Iron & Wine's The Creek Drank the Cradle. I got to hear some new Actionslacks tunes, and the first time I heard "Close to Tears," a wonderfully beautiful & uplifting song, I actually sat on my bathroom floor and cried for like, 15 minutes. I felt like Tim was telling me to get off my ass and get over it already (which he's thankfully done before, but that wasn't really the case this time).

And then one day, I was driving up to a friend's house in the Hollywood Hills listening to a compilation I had just made for myself. It was a beautiful day in March, and my sunroof was open, and Big Star's "Watch the Sunrise" came on. The guitar was sparkling, the air was crisp and fresh, the sky clear... it was one of those magical moments you have with a song that you know you'll never forget as long as you live. And I crossed whatever bridge I needed to cross while that song was playing, and I knew it really was gonna be okay.

I guess my Life Lesson Learned from the Give Up Club was just a reinforcement of the power of a song. When my friend heard "Helpless," I think he went back in time to a high school memory, and I know when I heard "Ceremony" I went somewhere else too. A certain song, or a smell, can suddenly whip you back to a place and time in your life - whether or not you want to be there. Last night was okay though, cuz we wanted to be there.