To say you’re my least favorite season isn’t an insult. It’s just that I love the other seasons that much more, and the other seasons, for me, don’t have the inherent sadness that you do.
See, as soon as you begin, Summer, I start to think about when you’re going to leave. How soon you’ll be gone. How many nice days I have left and if I can count them on my fingers and toes.
I’ve always felt like this, even when I was a kid. And I swim between trying to actually be in the moment and absolutely being lost in the dread of knowing that nothing gold can stay.
The last week has been absolutely awful for me on the inside. Explainable and unexplainable phenomena that have haunted me since I can remember but feel new every time. This week has been the worst.
But I just feel lucky now that I know how to get through it. That I have tools and tricks that I’ve learned and, generally, healthy ways of dealing with dark feelings. I lean into being positive, sometimes too heavily, and that wasn’t always me.
So good bye, Summer.
Thank you for reminding me that I can get through the feelings that outlast the sunshine.
What makes an artist special is obvious to everyone but the artist him- or herself.
This applies to all people.
I read this in an article the other night and the words have been rattling inside me ever since. Right before I read this, I was actually talking about someone I know, and how great he was to talk to, because he was so comfortable in talking about everything.
And then I wondered if anyone ever told him that.
I think that some people are so good at some things that other people just assume that person knows how good they are. And I also think this is rarely the case.
I look at the kid in this photo. I had just started making music (and “real” art — work that I considered art). To this day, I don’t know how much of me is bravado and how much is actual confidence.
But I do know, then and today, that there must be things the world thinks are special about me, and then there are the things that I think are special about me, and when the two occur at the same time is when something extraordinary happens.
So it’s up to us to let each other know. To state the obvious. The next time you have a nice thought about someone, and you think, “They must get this all the time” — think again. And say something.
Because it’s not just about making each other’s day.
It’s about helping one another discover our potentials and making each other’s lives.
Two weekends ago, I was at a convention and met a lot of awesome people. I met a couple who were incredibly nice and they were really interested in what I do. One of them gave me a call a week ago and was very complimentary. He was really impressed with what I was doing and loved my passion and enthusiasm. He wanted to meet up and talk about a business opportunity.
I know what you’re thinking: “No, Dennis, no.” I was skeptical, too, but here’s a secret about me: if you compliment me, I will literally do anything you ask me to.
So we met up this morning. But that isn’t really what this post is about. It’s actually more about how the same kind of thing happened to me when I was right out of high school.
See, another gentleman had come into my work and was impressed with me. He asked me to grab coffee, and then proceeded to try to sell me on a blatant pyramid scheme. He didn’t waste any time, and I could see that he wanted my light. And in that moment, I was scared: I felt inadequate, I felt stupid and I just wanted to please the people around me. I didn’t ask any questions and I didn’t get any answers. I left the meeting with my light a little dimmer.
And for a long time, I let my light fade away, slowly, daily.
I think a lot of people assume that’s what being a grown up is. Facing the harsh shadows of the world and gaining that jaded wisdom. Losing that light.
Except it’s not.
And this is where it gets good.
I asked all the questions today. We actually had a nice conversation, and he is a nice guy. But I had to tell him where the passion he saw came from.
It came from me finally believing in myself. I have fought tooth and nail to get to this point in my life — to be this alive — and the things I do now, the person that I get to be now: I believe in THAT. I believe in that more than anything else in the universe.
If you’ve been around me at all over the last few years, you’ve seen it. You know it’s real. The light and the passion and the excitement I have now is real and I couldn’t fake it if I tried.
I don’t even know if I could translate it. And it for sure is not for sale. If you’ve ever gotten it from me, I gave it to you because I thought you deserved it, too.
Whenever I hear people complaining about other people they work with, I usually hear something along the lines of, “Well, it’s going to be like that wherever you go.” I spend a lot of time trying to make that untrue. If I can go to work and make someone’s day as opposed to ruining it, then I get to be proof that it is not like that everywhere. That it’s not like that here. If someone still rolls their eyes when I walk through the door, then I still have some work to do. And hopefully, if you end up somewhere else where someone is treating you terribly, you’ll remember that you worked with me and know: it is not going to be like that everywhere.
Growing up is not about losing that light. Getting old is. Getting bitter and cold and dark is what bitter, cold and dark people tell you, because misery loves company. And misery loves taking your light.
So, I don’t think I got a new job today. But I had a nice conversation, a cup of coffee and a reminder of how far I’ve come and how far I want to go.
And if you still have that light — even just a little of it — hold onto it, share it and watch it grow.
I know this photo is boring, but this is one of the most important paragraphs I have ever read in my life.
Context: last year, my friend Tracy recommended this book to me. It’s called The Writing Life, it’s by Annie Dillard, and it is one of the best books I have ever read. It feels like it was written just for me, and I find myself thinking about it all the time.
Sometimes, a revelation isn’t someone revealing something new to you. Sometimes, it’s describing something you’ve always known about yourself with words you could never find. That’s what Annie does time and again.
Like here. Here she tells you that you should never save or hold onto anything. If you have it, right now, you should put it on the page. Right now.
God, that is how I want to live my life.
And I try to. Sometimes I do. But there are so many times when I wanted to say something or do something and I didn’t. And it becomes a regret, which becomes an ocean of regrets, which creates a horizon that you long for but can never reach.
I could have saved that sentence for something else, something more, but I feel it right now, so I said it now.
I hope you have days when you have the courage that Annie encourages here. That you say and do everything you want to and have no regrets. Because everything you spend, you don’t lose; you get it back.
“Something more will arise for later, something better. These things fill from behind, from beneath, like well water. Similarly, the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful, but destructive.
“Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you.”
Isn’t that the truth? So give your words and your feelings and your love to those you want to have them, so you don’t lose them.
It sounds so easy, and yet it’s the bravest way to live.
We’re hot, then we’re cold. We’re also yes — then we’re no.
August 20th, 2019
I am a person born of extremes.
For most of my life, I was always the best, or I was the worst. The smartest person in the room, or so dumb I could feel everybody staring. The top of the heap, or the bottom of a garbage fire. I was perpetually hotter and colder than Katy Perry could possibly imagine.
Most of my soul-searching over the past few years has been about finding balance. About giving myself some kind of peace without losing my edge. And sometimes, I find it. Sometimes, I find “sometimes,” instead of “always” or “never.”
And I find much of the world missing that common ground when it comes to rational and emotional decision-making.
See, there is a school of thinking and people who believe that rational thought without the use of any compassion is the way to make every decision.
Those people are wrong.
On the flip side, there are people whose empathy is so loud it drowns out reason and blows away all red flags.
See, those people don’t really get it, either.
We were given a head and a heart on purpose. It’s a check and a balance and when one feels heavier, it doesn’t feel right, and it weighs down your world. And you’ll find yourself at odds with people who are unbalanced on the other side of the universal teeter-totter. It’s why so many people are divided and can’t figure out why you can’t see what they see. It’s because we keep shutting one of our eyes in a misguided attempt to balance the view.
So I try to keep them both open. It feels like I fail as much as I succeed but I never stop trying to see it all. My natural extreme behavior will never go away. I will forever have days when I know I am the worst.
But by keeping myself aware that when I feel like that, I’m holding one eye closed, it allows the possibility of light to sneak through.
It reminds me to keep looking.
We find ourselves on sides internally, externally, naturally and carefully taught. And it’s exhausting.
But I hope the next time you feel tired, you can keep looking. Because it is all we can do to see.
Me, who does not exist, standing next to a building that no longer exists.
August 16th, 2019
I read a theory today that the universe ended in 2012.
It wasn’t a bad theory, as far as internet theories go. Multiverses, trans-dimensional travel, displaced existence, blah blah blah. It was all there.
But reading it, and really thinking about it, I felt the weirdest thing.
I felt relief.
Because if it’s all really over, and we’re still here, we can do whatever we want and the universe can’t stop us. There’s nobody in the cosmos to judge us, to impose their will upon us. You guys — we’re free.
I think about death a lot. Not in a morbid way, but just that it’s coming and I can’t stop it and what can I do to make the most people miss me when I’m gone. This idea — that the universe ended and we missed it — transcends the idea of death itself. We lived past the concept of living. And, gosh, that makes me feel alive.
Now that nothing matters, everything matters. Every step you take is one more step than the universe intended. We already crossed the finish line; we already ate our sundaes. And every day since has been cherries.
So now that you know: what are you going to do with the time we stole? We’re in uncharted territory now; life wasn’t supposed to last this long, and we told life to shut the hell up and look. We’re here.
I, personally, am going to keep creating. I’m going to try to be as kind as I can to everyone I meet. I’m going to keep connecting to people, because that’s what helped me beat the end of days. We all defeated the absence of existence together. That means something. Every time you personally change another human’s life, remember that it wouldn’t have happened that way if you weren’t here — and none of us are supposed to be here.
Things I’ve learned (and am still learning) from my dog:
Be kind, even when you’re hungry. Especially when you’re hungry.
When in doubt, try to make the human smile.
Lead with trust, and learn from behavior.
If someone hurts you, whether it be by accident or intentionally, it is always better to forgive and move on as soon as possible, even if it’s impossible to forget.
Love the hardest when the human is having the toughest time.
When someone gives you permission to kiss, never stop kissing them until you are specifically told to stop.
When you want something, go for it. When you still can’t get it, make the cutest face you have and hope for the best.
Always be friendly and introduce yourself to other dogs. And sometimes bushes. And sometimes questionable garbage.
Look for the best in everyone and everything, including yourself.
Make noise if something doesn’t feel right.
Fake sneeze if you really crave attention.
Smell everything. Especially before putting it in your mouth.
When it comes to being excited, passionate and showing your love, never compromise.
Protect your people.
Fear the sky.
Snuggling — otherwise known as pure, genuine connection — is the key to the universe.
My dog is smart. A lot smarter than I am. And these are just the things I see in her every single day.
Her last piece of advice is that she never gives it. She relies on me to see it. And that’s the best piece of advice I have ever received.
My dad and I were discussing what’s going on in this country yesterday when he asked me a pointed question that made me flinch.
“You keep talking about love. Why isn’t anybody listening?”
I don’t know.
I spend all this time thinking and writing and hoping and I don’t know why people aren’t listening. Why they aren’t clicking and subscribing to love.
Maybe it’s because people don’t like to compromise. They feel like if they have to give something up, even if it’s for the betterment of all people, that it isn’t fair. That it’s, ironically, taking away some of their rights, when they don’t take into consideration how many other people’s rights and lives are taken from them, every day. Love is the undeniable right, and it can’t be allowed to be taken away.
I know people don’t like to take responsibility. They don’t like to say, “I did this. I contributed to this. I didn’t stop this. What can I do now?” They like to say, “This is his fault. This is her fault. This is art’s fault. This is entertainment’s fault. This is your fault. But this is not my fault.” Love doesn’t take sides, because it has nothing to prove. It exists for everybody to have, to give, to use, to cling onto when everything else has fallen away.
As I’m writing, I still can’t explain why nobody is listening. But I can reiterate that it doesn’t mean we should ever stop.
We need to talk more, and louder, and with greater passion and compassion. We need to see things how they were, how they are and how we want them to be. When we make decisions, simple and difficult alike, we have to ask what the root of our making is. Is it love? Because if it’s not, then we’re doing it wrong. Fear is not the reason to make choices. Hate is not the reason to make choices. Apathy is never a reason for anything.
I need to keep talking about love because eventually the right person will hear it. And they’ll share it with the next right person. And eventually, we’ll all discover the cure for whatever sickness this world has and maybe it won’t be so bad.
So keep doing it.
Keep talking about love. And talk about it like nobody’s listening, because that is when you’re the most honest.
Let’s say you make a really good blueberry Danish.
And you want to share your Danish with the world.
So you decide to write down the recipe. But then you quickly realize that nobody actually makes this Danish like you do. But how could you make all these pastries and share them with the world? Well, you open a bakery.
So you start the bakery, and you don’t enlist anybody else, because like you said earlier, nobody makes these Danish like you. So you wake up really early in the morning, and you do everything it takes to make your Danish. And when they’re baked, you’re proud, but it’s not enough. They’re not being shared in the right way. So you need to expand your bakery. You need to open a restaurant.
You hire nobody else to work in your restaurant. You are the owner and the manager and the host and the server and the busser and the dishwasher, because you have come this far on your own, and the only person who knows how this Danish needs to be presented to the world is you. And it’s hard and sometimes feels impossible and it makes you crazy and lonely but once you start serving the Danish, you can feel it. You know that no matter how another person reacts to it, this is exactly how you want them to eat it. You put a lot — too much — of yourself into it, and if it is nothing else, it is absolutely you.
This is what working on The Weirdos has been like.
I’m a week away from the release date, and there is still a lot of behind-the-scenes stuff that I’m working on that I won’t bother you with, but either way, my blueberry Danish will be on a plate soon.
I’m excited and nervous and, honestly — I’m just ready for everyone to eat.
Okay, if Godzilla and King Kong can get along, then get your shit together.
July 29th, 2019
I think a lot of people undervalue their potential to change people’s lives, especially at their jobs. I’ll make this one short & sweet.
I got my last table tonight less than an hour before close. If you’ve ever worked a job with posted hours, you know that this is less than ideal. I asked this family of four how they were, and how they were was starving.
They had called a different restaurant to see if their kitchen was open. The restaurant said they were, and when this family arrived, they were then told the kitchen was closed. So they called us up, and our kitchen was indeed open.
They were very kind and extraordinarily grateful. They wrapped up right before close, and left. And then they came back. Their car wouldn’t start. I insisted it was no problem, got my own keys and got their car started for them. They were again enormously grateful.
This night could have gone very differently. All this family wanted to do was have a nice meal together. And the universe decided it wasn’t going to make it easy for them.
But the universe also put me in the equation, so I did everything I could to take care of them. There’s a good chance they’re going to remember this night for a long time, and they’re going to remember that strangers can still be kind, even when the situations are unexpected.
So know your potential. Know that nothing you do is small, and share whatever kindness you have available. We don’t always have a lot on hand, but I think you’ll surprise yourself when you check.
The Den 