Be Someone

My family doesn't act like a family. 

I hate my parents. They're weak. One is dead in the ground, the other is dead in spirit. 

My brother doesn't face life at all. He doesn't get life on himself. He's going to die full of regret. Because this life is messy, and I've made a lot messes. But at least I got dirty. At least I got in the trenches with the other filthy boys and said "fuck it, lets go over the top and see whats on the other side." 

My father never taught me anything. How to shave, throw a punch, how to be a man, how the fuck football works, how to handle money, how to treat women, nothing. Because he's a loser that never had a dream or a passion in this life. How ironic he had a son that has literally devoured this "mortal coil". 

I play a mean fuckin' guitar, I could write you a song that could make you want to overthrow governments or weep with sadness. I can hit them drums too, boy. From the first time I sat down, I could lay a beat like I was going to war. And singing? I'll sing you some shit any old time you're feeling like you need a song to lift you up, or make you feel like you're alive. And when we're done spitting that fire from our vocal chords I can wrap with you all night about the evolutionary process that leads us to be able to sing in the first place. And when the beer and drugs are gone, fuck it, I'll stay up and wax poetic about anything you got, Mac...politics, art, film, girls, technology. 

I shit code for breakfast. I can hack your computer faster than you can read this story. I can learn and adapt to new complex systems in no time. I'm learning to draw and I can speak some Japanese. 

My photography portfolio is full of some of the most beautiful women and life scenes you'd ever lay eyes on. I see art and math everywhere I look. I've gotten lost in the streets of Amsterdam, ran from Yakuza in Japan, met Mick Jones in a London McDonalds of all places, shared a mic with Joe Strummer, slept in the Commons in Boston, listened to Nebraska by Springsteen while riding through Nebraska at night and pissed in the Pacific Ocean. I've seen the bullet holes in Berlin, woken up in a gutter in the streets of Mexico, hopped trains, ran around this country with a pack of crazy strippers, been in a full blown riot in NYC, held someone as they died in my arms, saved someone's life, fought jocks behind The Ratskeller, eaten the finest food and tried every drug known to man. I've been stabbed, robbed, and seen every ghetto in this country. I owned an all-ages club, shared the stage with many of my heroes, and I'm still here standing. But I'm not saying all this to be a braggart. I'm saying it because you're not your father's son. 

We are a species that have evolved the ability to both write poetry and build rocket ships. I may have gotten myself into some real trouble along the way with some things, but it's only because I want to try everything this life has to offer. 

The only thing my old man has done is wear a groove into a seat cushion. My mother put herself in the ground. My brother doesn't talk to me. That's not family. If your brother, your blood, was to accidentally kill someone, you help him move the body and ask questions later. 

You eat this life and this life eats you. Get a fucking motorcycle, see the world, fall in love, fall in bed, get in a fight, get some battle scars, learn you're not made of glass, read books, talk to bums and royalty alike, say yes 90% of the time, pawn your useless shit, be a man, be a woman, be a fucking god. Because God doesn't exist. It's just you. 

Create. Destroy. Shoot the moon. Invent something. Get into adventures. Get into scary situations that are hard to get out of. 

Be water. Be fire. Just be something. We've got enough accountants.

Paul Russo