Blog Trifecta

Well I'm happy to say that the one year anniversary of this blog was April 10th, 2013, and the story is still going strong. My allegiance of readers is continuing to grow, which is truly amazing to me and I don't think words can really express how much I truly appreciate it and the feeling it gives me inside.

Although I started out with some form of structure in the beginning, my posts have gotten somewhat sporadic over the last 6 months to say the least, I did however manage to enter 187 blog posts in a one year time period, which works out to about one post every other day. I had hoped to post Monday to Friday on a weekly basis but it just isn't always possible to do so, which I feel is somewhat unfair to the reader, as you are left in the dark as to when the next blog entry will be posted.

After serious consideration I have decided to use last years "summer schedule" as my new, permanent structure. For those of you who may remember, last year I was posting religiously 5 days a week from April to June, then for the summer schedule I only posted Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. This will now be the way things are from this point in time and moving forward, so you can expect to see a trifecta of blog entries every week from here on in.

I feel having four days where I don't have to post will be beneficial to both me the writer and you the reader, as it gives me extra time to write during the week, plus I'm gearing up to launch the video version of this blog on YouTube, so the extra free time will hopefully enable me to get that mission off the ground sooner than later.

I thank you for your time, understanding, and your continuous support in following my story thus far, in one year I've managed to cover my life from birth to age 16, and I can assure you things are only going to get more interesting as we move forward with Heavy Ghetto.

See you this Wednesday...

Shut up, be happy

One fact among many that I thoroughly enjoyed about my new group of older friends, was the fact they were open minded enough to enjoy rap music. It seemed that metal heads had no time for rap, but people who were open enough in the mind to transition from metal to hardcore, such as myself, seemed to understand and enjoy the concept, sound, and raw energy of rap.

One of my earliest memories of partying in Dove's basement was one of my first times there. We were playing ice hockey on the Nintendo and listening to Black Sabbath. Noel showed up, and he was notorious for controlling the stereo, no sooner than he arrived he was sitting cross legged in front of the stereo. As soon as whatever Sabbath song that was playing finished, Noel quickly removed it from the stereo and cued up a new selection.

The song opened with the sound of rain & church bells, then the beat and ever familiar Devil's tri-note kicked in. I recognized it right away, it was the song Black Sabbath. I couldn't figure out why Noel turned off Black Sabbath just to play more Black Sabbath. Then out of nowhere a voice kicked in and began to talk. I also immediately recognized the voice, it was Jello Biafra, lead singer of the punk band Dead Kennedys.

The words he spoke were delivered in the vein of some government official making an announcement to the masses of how America was now under marshal law, people had to stay in their homes etc. the song was called "Shut up, be happy" and I found it very powerful. Once it ended I was shocked and surprised when a mellow hip hop beat kicked in. I asked Noel what the hell we were listening to and he informed me it was the new Ice-T album "The Iceberg/Freedom of Speech"

I sat back drinking and smoking taking it all in. We listened to the album from front to back and I was quite impressed with the newest release from the Iceberg. A lot of the songs were hype and upbeat, and once again had that aggressive parallel to hardcore music.

Over the next few weekends parting at Dove's I discovered the guys were listening to even more Ice T records and more rap in general, mainly Beastie Boys, N.W.A., Big Daddy Kane, & Boogie Down Productions just to name a few.

I felt such a sense of relief knowing that these new friends wouldn't ostracize me for being a fan of rap music, something I hid from most people as I was always ridiculed for it, even from my own friends I grew up with, but now in a house that wasn't mine I truly felt at home...

The Infamous Cat Shit Party

In my grade 10 English class there was a small group of guys who we referred to as "the skids" they were your typical dirty rock on types who thought they were cooler than anyone, yet they were too stuck in the 80s metal time warp to understand the nuances of hardcore kids such as myself. Word had it these guys had a "band" but no one ever saw nor heard shit from them.

I caught wind that they were having a party at one of their houses on the weekend, and surprisingly E.B.S. was going to be performing. For some reason we didn't make it to the party, I can't remember why but it ended up being one of the only EBS shows I ever missed.

On Monday all the EBS guys were referring to the weekends gig as "the cat shit party" when I inquired why they had dubbed it such I was informed about how the dudes house was full of cats, there were litter boxes and turds everywhere, and apparently the entire house smelled of catshit. Hilarious I thought to myself.

Later that day in English class, I overheard the kid who lived in the "catshit house" bad mouthing EBS and their performance from the weekend. The guy referred to them as "Epileptic Butt Fuckers" and I was fucking furious! When I told the EBS guys about it they just kind of laughed it off. I guess that kind of thing didn't bother them...or so I thought.

The next weekend while out drinking and roaming the streets, the EBS boys ran into "the skids" Mike Myre, who was extremely intoxicated, started calling out the catshit kid about his comments. Before the shook kid could say a word Myre was pummelling him into the ground repeatedly yelling "Epileptic Butt Fuckers huh?!?" For the finish, he picked the dudes bike up and dumped it on top of his battered carcass lying in the street.

The guy never even showed up to school the following week, I think he was embarrassed and wanted to hide his wounds until they healed. EBS were very peaceful, nice guys, and generally straight edge, but if you threw some booze in the mix it was quite apparent that even the nicest of people could get medieval on somebody, and I was loving it!

Demon Barf

It seemed like every time my crew and I went to see an Epileptic Brain Surgeons show, there was always this other crew there marking out for them, the same guys I mentioned from the "Skatezone" post, but just who were they?

They were a colourful group to say the least, one of them was a black guy but he was always sporting Anthrax shirts, another of the guys looked like a little white rasta metal head, one of them was a bigger, stockier fellow with a sweet feathered mullet, then there was a tall, slim guy with a bowl cut who reminded me of Tony Hawk, and lastly there was a guy who looked more goth or industrial, he wore all black mostly and had glasses.

I don't know what it was about these dudes but I didn't like them one bit, mind you I'm a bit quick to pull the trigger on judging people I don't know. To be quite honest I didn't even have a reason not to like these guys, but in my mind there was some form of unspoken competition in regards to who the biggest EBS fans were. I clearly felt my crew were the ultimate EBS fans, yet these guys probably felt the same way about themselves. This meant war!

The lines in the sand were quickly disappearing as the crossover movement flourished, and I was happy and proud to see punks, thrashers, & skin heads co-existing in the scene together. So why did I loathe these guys so much? The scene was clearly one of unity, yet I felt these guys should have been excluded from it for some unknown reason. Looking back on this I think I was somewhat jealous & greedy, I didn't want to share my favourite local band with strangers I considered outsiders.

One day at the Bramalea City Centre I was hanging out with Pooh & Waller in the food court when we were approached by "those guys" They shot the shit with the EBS duo for a bit, and then they were on their way. As soon as they were out of earshot I immediately asked Pooh & Waller "Who in the fuck are those clowns? I see them at every godamn show!" Pooh went on to tell me they were some guys from their high school, Chinguacousy. They were in the same grade as me. Where I was lucky enough to have Myre & McCuish in my high school, they were lucky enough to have the other half of EBS at their school.

Pooh went onto tell me all their names. The black guy was Kevin, the white rasta was Gregg, the stocky mullet man was Paul, the Tony lookalike was named Mike, and the goth looking guys name was Matt. Pooh also went on to tell me that they had their own band as well, they were called Demon Barf.

I thought to myself "Great, not only do we have to contend with these guys as EBS super fans, but now we are going to have to contend with them as the next Brampton band to emerge from the scene"

Little did i know at the time, these guys would go on to be good friends of mine in the years to come, but in the heat of the moment I only had one thought on my mind....this was war!

Sicko/420

Greetings readers, just taking a quick moment to apologize for the severe lack of blog posts this week. I seemed to have picked up some sort of flu bug and I've been somewhat bed ridden. I haven't had the energy nor the brain function to write anymore this week. Heavy Ghetto will return on Monday, in the meantime feel free to check out some of my latest music I've been working on. I'd also like to wish all you smokers out there a safe and happy 4/20 weekend! Blaze em' up!

kabal.bandcamp.com/album/whats-below-remains-below

Skate Zone

Midway into spring we caught wind of a show that was taking place featuring Epileptic Brain Surgeons along with a few other local Toronto bands, which seemed like a regular weekend happening in those days, but the setting for this show was much more different than the usual basement bash. This particular show was taking place at an indoor skate park, something I had yet to witness at this point in my life. The perk was called "Skatezone" and from what I recall it was somewhere in the Mississauga/Etobicoke area. That was quite a jaunt from our stomping grounds in Bramalea. I didn't know how I would get there, but I knew I would one way or another.

For some reason Jerry didn't drive as he usually would have, I'm not sure if he was out of gas or if his car was in the shop, but regardless we needed to find a way there. Our parents were kind enough to help us out, My dad drove us all there and Ryan's dad picked us all up at the end of the night. Or vice verse  I can't quite remember.

From the moment we stepped in the place it was magical. The smell of sweat and stale cigarettes filled the air. Kids on skateboards were wheeling around everywhere. All you could hear were murmurs of various overlapping conversations and the sound of skateboards clacking and grinding away.
Up top of the biggest half pipe I saw the boys from EBS setting up their gear. We went and hung out with them until it was time for the show to start.

I honestly don't remember much about the opening acts, but I do remember that by the time the Surgeons started playing the place was ballistic. There was a full blown circle pit in the middle of the half pipe and I was right in the middle of the action. The boys and I started running up the side of the ramp and purposely sliding back down, crashing into the pit like a bowling ball into pins, knocking people down in every direction, it was absolute chaos. This was by far the best mosh pit I had ever been apart of to date.

One thing I noticed at the show was a group of guys around my age. I knew they were from Brampton as I had seen them around the scene, I knew they were EBS fans because I saw them at all the shows. But just who in the hell were these guys???

King of Kensington

Hey everyone, just taking a bit of a break from the story once again, I apologize as always, it's just in telling this story I find myself needing small breaks here and there to keep the fire burning, as it is on these small breaks that I comb my brain for informative memories, most of which are very inspirational to me and necessary to continue the story in chronological order as best I can.

During this thought process I had an idea to do a vlog (video blog) version of Heavy Ghetto, my reasoning is quite simple, most people are visual and perhaps somewhat lazy when it comes to reading, so it's much easier to watch a movie than it is for one to read a book. Don't get me wrong, I love to read and write, if I do decide to go the video route you can still expect this blog to continue. The video version would simply be a re-telling of the story I've shared thus far, but I think it would be a little more in depth and personal. If I decide to go this route you will be the first one to know about it as this would be the first place I would share it with everyone.

Speaking of inspirational ideas, since I started writing this blog and sharing my memories with the world, I find myself missing and longing for some of the simple material items I once possessed as a boy, as a teen, and as a young man. In my eternal quest for nostalgia and with the power of eBay, I've been able to curb that compulsion without breaking my bank account. One thing I seem to miss more and more each day is my old leather jacket, something that could never be replaced or easily duplicated, nor can I simply "buy it now" on eBay. Even if I could, how impersonal would it be to own something that someone else poured their heart and personality into? I'd have to go back to step one and start the process all over, which I decided to do.

Yesterday I went downtown Toronto shopping by myself to spend some of my hard earned bonus I received from my place of employment. In my journeys I ventured up to Kensington Market to check out some vintage clothing stores in hopes of finding a leather jacket. After scouring the majority of stores there, I finally found a place that had tons of old "racers" (leather motorcycle jackets) but I just about shit 10 bricks when I discovered they all ranged from $300-$600 in price! I couldn't fathom nor comprehend how a used clothing store was charging so much for an old jacket that they clearly had an abundance of.

Deflated, I decided to give up and leave Kensington to continue my shopping. I crossed the street and passed the last few shops, then something caught my eye. A rolling rack out front of a store had a handful of racers hanging from it. I checked the prices and they ranged from $50-$90, a far cry from the last store I was in. I noticed one jacket in particular that looked much older and worn than the others. I looked at the tag and my eyes widened and my smile decided to come out and play, it said "As is $25" I snatched it, went in the store, tried it on, and purchased it! I also had a pleasant chat with the store owner in regards to the "other" store, and retail in general.

After I left Kensington I headed down to Queen street so I could search for some patches for my new old leather jacket. Most of the stuff I saw was newer bands but I did manage to find a few gems. I've got tons of old buttons that I've collected since grade 8 as well, so I'm off to a good start so far. I'll be sure to check back in and share some photos once my jacket is complete. Be sure to tune in tomorrow for the continuation of Heavy Ghetto...