Tag Archives: Non Fiction

My Brother’s Keeper, My Brother’s Killer Part 4: The Plan

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On New Year’s Eve, 22 years ago, my big brother passed away of a drug overdose. This past year, I experienced a romantic loss…which would normally be fine, but this one hit me like a ton of bricks, and made some pretty old, ugly personal demons surface. Why? I think my reaction to the latter has to do with unresolved abandonment issues from the former. This series is an attempt to move past both of these losses, and start healing. We’re all in this together, and the stakes are never higher than when you take a stand for your own happiness.

If you’re new and just joining this journey with me, you should probably start at Part 1. If you’ve read some of this already, you can join me at Part 2 or Part 3. If you only want to read this entry, I really don’t understand you. We probably can’t hang. Major spoilers ahead, boo.

John Hastings would have been 49 years old today. Happy Birthday, big brother.

The last few weeks have felt even better. I’m stronger and happier. My life doesn’t feel like I’m wandering through a Lars Von Trier film anymore. I’m nearing the end of this journey to find Mxxxxx Bxxxxxxxxx, the person my family has held responsible for my brother’s death. It feels like perfect timing. Not only personally, but professionally: I don’t want the search to take over my life, or be the focus of this blog (“BLCKSMTH? Oh, you mean the Dead Brother Blog?”), even though the point of BLCKSMTH is to tell the story of people’s paths, however difficult, to lives they love, and were probably meant for all along.

One thing that has helped me heal is vast amounts of boxed wine working on my set design for the stage adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere. It’s a dream project of mine, combining Mr. Gaiman’s storytelling while aesthetically being inspired by a favorite artist of mine, Lee Bontecou. Most days, for almost two weeks, I have been at my theater from 10 am to 10 pm. I am exhausted, my hands look like hamburger meat, and I think I might permanently smell like metalworking/welding fumes. But I am so happy working on this project, making art again, and it’s so gratifying to see members of my “extended family” at Sacred Fools Theater in Los Angeles come by and help out. There are some pretty talented and generous people executing this project.

This week, I broke away from the set build for a couple of hours to talk to Mark De La Garza, Gilda De La Garza’s brother. Mark was probably the last person to see John alive, and the conversation solidified my decision on what to do with the new information I have now (that my resourceful sister Linda found), about where Mxxxxx Bxxxxxxxx lives. Continue reading →

My Brother’s Keeper, My Brother’s Killer, Part 3: Ouroboros, Or The Myth Of Closure

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On New Year’s Eve, 22 years ago, my big brother passed away of a drug overdose. This past year, I experienced a romantic loss…which would normally be fine, but this one hit me like a ton of bricks. Why? I believe my grief from the latter has to do with unresolved issues from the former. This series is an attempt to move past both of these losses, and start healing. We’re all in this together, and the stakes are never higher than when you take a stand for your own happiness.

If you haven’t yet, please read Part 1 here. And if you read that already, here’s Part 2. I just sold the rights to turn this into animated webisodes (this is a lie, I just wanted to type “webisode”).

Wow. Travel, time, and friends. In the last couple of weeks, I have finally felt like less and less like a grieving widower, and more like my old self again, the person I was before October 8th. Actually, I haven’t felt like my old self. I have spent the last couple of months challenging everything I think I know about me: I conquered a previously debilitating fear. I smoked weed for the first (and second) time in my entire life. I’m going to a gym for the first time in my life (this is a bigger deal than you think), getting on my bike most days. I am suddenly fearless about meeting people and making new friends, inserting myself into social situations. I made the decision to try out another city, one that fosters creativity and is a softer, kinder place for me to be right now than Los Angeles. Yeah, yeah, make all the jokes you want about “midlife crises”. This journey to find Mxxxxx Bxxxxxxxxx, the woman who my family (but not me) calls my brother’s “killer”, is changing me, making me stronger. I like what I am turning into.

Don’t get me wrong. There are good days and bad, but the bad are fewer and fewer. No, friend, I still won’t go to see Silver Linings Playbook with you, not quite yet. No, I’m still avoiding watching that episode of Girls (just kidding, I’m not watching it anymore at all…Joe introduced me to it, and all it does is remind me of him now). And I can’t change the station fast enough when fun’s Some Nights, or Mumford’s I Will Wait comes on (haha, I just admitted I LISTEN TO RADIO. This is more embarrassing than anything I’ll ever cop to on this blog). But I am surfacing. I still miss “Joe”, but his ghost is fading. I’m going to be okay.

And then a funny thing happened: I found Mxxxxx Bxxxxxxxx.  Continue reading →

My Brother’s Keeper, My Brother’s Killer, Part 2: Learning To Laugh Again

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A rare specimen: a picture of me laughing (photo by Kate Schroeder)

On New Year’s Eve, 22 years ago, my big brother passed away of a drug overdose. This past year, I experienced a staggering personal, romantic loss. I believe the grief with the latter has to do with unresolved issues from the former. This series is an attempt to move past both of these losses, and start healing. The stakes are never higher than when you take a stand for your own happiness (autocorrect almost changed that to “steaks”, and I almost kept it).

If you haven’t yet, please click here and read the first post in this series. Seriously. It’s like a reality show. Sorry, I mean “unscripted drama”. Maybe a telenovela.

So this is what has happened: My sister Linda, who has been an invaluable partner in this search, helped put me in touch with Melecio and Grace De La Garza, parents of Gilda De La Garza, who knew John for about ten years. She was one of his closest friends at the time of his death. I reached Gilda by phone (she lives in Arizona with her family now), and the conversation was a revelation. She described John as being like another brother to her, in addition to her two biological brothers. She mentioned that they think of John often, and have many pictures of him…she described him as a sort of “missing link” of her family, and that his charisma and charm had not only won her and her siblings over, but that her parents were taken with him too. She told me many stories, many associated with good emotions, some with bad. Continue reading →

Oh Fudge, I’m Winning

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Another ridiculously enjoyable piece from BLCKSMTH contributing editor Jennie Kay. If you like this piece of hers, check out this one too.

Everybody Wins

Everybody Wins

Poetry is important to kids. It really is, even though we are all sucky poets as kids. Except that eight-year-old-Appalachian-savant that makes words out of twigs and becomes a poet-laureate, when they are the only ones in their extended family that know how to read. Except for them, we are all sucky poets as kids, but I believe it is really important to be a poet as a kid. Everything is so much more real then. I always said I wouldn’t get jaded, but as I look back, I was pretty well done by the age of ten. As a kid, you spend so much time looking around you can’t help but notice what’s really going on.  You learn things like: staring someone directly in the face after you have lied, will make you win. You shouldn’t know about winning before you are at least seventeen. I didn’t have a lot of wins growing up, but there were a few. Continue reading →

My Brother’s Keeper, My Brother’s Killer Part 1

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First in a series of five. If you’ve already read this, here is Part 2.

On December 31st, 1991, John Edward Hastings was a handsome, bright young 28 year old. He was known for being gregarious, spontaneous, and generous, and had a large circle of friends who loved him. He also happened to be a cocaine and heroin addict, an addiction that started in earnest when he was 26. After losing a great job and burning through his savings, his drug supply was funded by a friend of his in exchange for companionship. And on a sunny day 22 years ago, John Hastings was watching the New Year’s Eve parade in Phoenix, Arizona, when he suddenly became fatigued, stumbled against a wall, slid down it, and died. It was later presumed that he died of heart failure, brought about by the effects of drugs on his system. How do I know these details? Because John Hastings was my big brother. I have decided to find my brother’s “killer”, the woman who supplied my brother the funding that fueled his addiction. Continue reading →

Believing the Grass Is Greener On Every Side

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photo by Kate Schroeder. And I really don’t like these glasses, but this is a rare pic of me actually smiling. Hmm…

It’s a tough thing, getting inspiration for your art. For so much of my life, I have claimed that pain has wrought the best creativity from me. I happily fulfilled the role of the tortured artist…there was something romantic about it, something noble in suffering for one’s art. But 2012 has been a strange year, and though I would love to say “it’s been a great year!” or “God, what a crappy year”, I can’t really sum it up so neatly. And yet, it’s been one of the most prolific years for my art. I feel like I’m turning a corner, both professionally and personally, with choices that will have seismic consequences for the rest of my life. The biggest changes internally have come in the last three months. Continue reading →

Art profile: “The Enemy Within”

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“The Enemy Within”, acrylic on canvas. Photo by Shaela Cook.

Sometimes it can be an exercise in futility to explain one’s art to people: creativity is so personal and subjective. Lately I’ve fielded a few questions about my art; in particular, the Periodic Table of Elements painting that started it all.

It was back in 2005 that I started my search for a vintage periodic table to fill a space on my wall. I’ve always had a slight obsession with medical and scientific ephemera, as also detailed in this previous, controversial post. I was looking for a very specific size, and wanted it to have some color in it, if possible. After searching flea markets and ebay, I gave up quickly: I was impatient, I was particular, I was determined. I decided to paint one myself. Continue reading →

What the Kay?

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BLCKSMTH introduces its first contributing editor, Jennie Kay. Jennie Kay poses as a communication design specialist while packing a six-shooter of creative wit and observation. Originally from Michigan, she has lived in California for the past thirteen years, and currently resides in Antigua, Guatemala.

Anaheim Gothic (hat-tip to Paul Plunkett)

Here’s a piece of hers. It’s typical of her fresh, vulnerable, authentic voice. I’m a fan. You will be too. Visit her website, or find her on Facebook.

 

“Welcome To My (Microwaved-Organic-Low Calorie-Horribly Unsatisfying) Life”

I have decided to split up with my boyfriend. I made the decision.

I realize that it is not for lack of care or anything he has or has not done, which unfortunately I blame way too much on him in the first place, poor guy. Simply put, there is nothing he does that makes me a better person.

He helps me throw better parties, but that is not really a relationship skill, or is it?

My friend Greg says it is.

He says it means you ultimately know how to work together. That is great, but throwing a good party isn’t helping me finally lose some weight and feel better about myself, throwing a better party is not getting told my tits look fantastic (frankly, it usually is, but not by him), throwing an amazing party is not going to help me figure out what the hell I am doing with my life, throwing a great party isn’t helping me pay off the credit cards I have been living off of the last three months and it sure as hell won’t tell me if I can seriously commit to helping a child grow up. Continue reading →

The Unlikely 4-Letter Word: My Parents’ Brushes With Cancer

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For the last few years, I’ve been taking care of my self pretty well: I eat healthy, exercise regularly, and try to get enough sleep, despite both my night owl/early-morning-writer habits. I do these things in no small part because I feel they contribute to my health, but also decrease my chances of getting cancer. Both of my parents have had brushes with cancer. Something that a friend is going through this week has made me think a little bit more about my parent’s experience, and I realized I didn’t know, I didn’t really know what they went through. So I decided to ask them.

I reached out to them cautiously, almost timidly: I had no idea how either of them would react to their son probing a delicate subject like battling cancer, or even having a close call with it, for writing he intended to share publicly (full disclosure: both of my parents had complete access to all drafts of this piece, and also retained full “veto power” in case they changed their minds).  My friends and family know that I live my life transparently. It’s not a huge philosophical choice, it’s just how I feel. Yes, there are things that I tell only very few people, but in general, I haven’t really gained anything by keeping secrets. But I wasn’t prepared for how open and eager they were to share their challenges, their fears, and their courage. Continue reading →

This Is Who We Are. This Is What We Do.

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No Stops ‘Til Albuquerque

I am in New Mexico for a few days for a wedding of two dear friends of mine, one of whom I’ve known about 15 years, and another who I have known for only a few years, but love just as dearly. The ceremony was yesterday, and it was lovely and moving: my pocket square got a workout, and I don’t usually cry at weddings. But it got me thinking. Well, I guess I’ve been very contemplative in general lately, thinking about the tapestry that forms my life, and the people who are the fabric in it. In particular, this year has been a catalyst for change for me, and I wonder what my life will look like in a year. I know it will look very, very different than it looked a year ago…I know what I want it to look like, both professionally and personally, but am finally coming to terms that that neither might be in my control. It’s hard yielding control, but with so much at stake (in both aspects), I feel like if I work hard at both, the results will pay off. It’s hard to have faith, with so little to give me hope. But I guess that’s why they call it faith, and in the end, optimism will always defeat cynicism. It has to. Love always wins. Continue reading →

I Know Why Sand Wants To Be Glass, or, Handling Criticism Of What You Create

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The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, by Rebecca Skloot

A few days ago, I posted a couple of new paintings in a series that I announced in the post “Hello, I Have Seen Your Brain And Made Art From It“. The series is being created from some old MRI films that I acquired 10 years ago, which I originally thought were anonymous, old films that were being discarded, but then found private, current information with them. I thought the inspiration of the art was an interesting story worth telling, as I am just as invested in the process of making art as I am the final product. In the piece, I openly acknowledged the terrible breach of privacy that occurred, and my impulsive, selfish decision 10 years ago to keep the MRI films.

I posted the link to the story on Facebook, Twitter, and in the Art forum on Reddit, a web-aggregate site that I am using for the first time.

The reaction could not have been more intense. Continue reading →

“Hello, I Have Seen Your Brain And Made Art From It”

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“What Are Little Girls Made Of?” Frame 9

Ten years ago, I had an itch: I wanted to create a piece of art that incorporated an X-ray or MRI film in it. At the time, it was simply an extension of my lifelong obsession with the aesthetic of scientific equipment and medical ephemera. I had a coworker who also worked at a hospital adjacent to our workplace, and I asked her to obtain some X-ray films for me. At the time, I assumed that she would procure an old film that was going to be discarded. Instead, she gave me a recently taken MRI film, and that started a now 10-year-long obsession with someone whose brain I have seen, whose voice I have heard, but whose face I still do not know. Continue reading →

Ghosts Over My Shoulder

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photo by Shaela Cook

It was never a part of my plan, never something that even factored into my life-changing decision to “pursue my bliss”, to consider what people would think about the inherent uncertainty of the act. It never occurred to me to wonder if people would scoff, or mutter about the rashness of the decision…and I was startled when I, a person known for putting everything I do through the filter of “But what will other people think?“, realized I didn’t care about that. But it surprised me even more when I started wondering what, if anything, the people in my life who have passed would think of my decision, and of my art. What would my brother John, who passed away 20 years ago, think of all this? Continue reading →

Plumbing the Depths

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He paused for a moment, hands poised above the keyboard, wondering if he was going to write another story about talking possums, or dumb but lovable deer. “Ah, f**k it,” he muttered, and started another story about a dyslexic lemur that just couldn’t catch a break.

Or maybe not. I started this blog to chronicle my big life decision to leave my retail career after 20 years, and only do doing things that fulfill me creatively and artistically. I know: BOR-ing! No one has ever had that impulse, right? Continue reading →