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About Just out. (Portland, OR) 1983-2013 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 19, 2011)
— • voices — Modern Grief OREGO N S LGBTO N EW S M A G A ZIN E A UGUST 19, 2011 3 5 J ig ] Punks push against each other in the packed and sweaty house, the room full o f the smell o f vegan hot dogs and dirty freebox clothing. I lean back into my seat on the threadbare couch, enjoying the cacophony— tipsy girls with dyed black hair laughing too loudly, scuffed army surplus boots pounding up and down the stairs, the growling voice blasting through the tinny stereo speakers. “W h at album is this?” I ask the guy beside me, admiring his handmade “It’s Bobby, Bitch” T -shirt and the Limp W rist patch meticulously safety-pinned onto his sleeve less denim jacket. “I t ’s like the Thermals, unplugged!” “Cranford Nix,” Bobby explains, his voice thick with a four-beers-deep slur. “He was in some punk bands back in the late ‘90s and put out this acoustic stuff, too. H alf of it’s about how much he hated his wife doing drugs, and the other half o f it’s about how much he loves drugs. Kind of meta, really.” “Is he local?” I ask. “No, Detroit. And he’s dead, sadly. I got turned on to his work and couldn’t stop play ing this album, and then a year later found out that he O D ’d ages ago. I didn’t expect it to hit me so hard, but I literally burst into tears in the middle of a fucking basement show when I found out. My friends thought I was a freak!” ing him meant that there was no way I could be close to him or otherwise have any emo tions associated with him dying.” actually were to something, how big a “That’s really weird,” Bobby observes. “I t’s space it occupied in our hearts, when it especially funny comparing it to another re cent death: Amy W inehouse. I mean, in the leaves and we are forced to grieve it.” same way that I wasn’t exactly shocked when “I know how it goes. This cat I’ve known and I found out that Cranford had O D ’d at that loved for about eight years recently died...” point in his career— frankly, it was pretty log (Note: Yes, I am the guy who shows up at the ical— it wasn’t exactly bizarre that Amy’d die punk rock house party and sits on the couch at the time she did, either.” talking to strangers about pets. Hardcore!) “Sadly, no, it wasn’t. But still, everyone im “Aw, buddy, I ’m sorry to hear that.” mediately grieved for her!” I note. “Social “Thank you. Anyway, I had this photo o f media went crazy about the news for days. myself and him from years ago, and after I Suddenly, everyone was the biggest Amy found out the news, I put it up on Facebook W inehouse fan around, and needed to pub licly process their grief.” as an R.I.P. message.” “O h, modern grief!” “This is the confusing part to me,” Bobby “I know, who needs widow’s weeds when ponders. “Loss is constant— it’s just a symptom you have a Facebook wall? Anyway, I didn’t o f living in the material world, you know? But expect the responses. First off, everyone as somehow the grieving isn’t constant. Some sumed that the cat was mine, which makes where inside us, there’s a line that defines when sense. However, when I cleared up that he loss is okay and when it’s devastating.” wasn’t mine—just a good friend’s cat I had “But where is that line?” I ask, raising my known for years— a surprising number of voice over the din o f the party. “How close to N ick M attos is by no means a punk— but they people reacted as though I didn’t have the something do we have to be to justify mourn sure throw fu n parties. Invite him to your show right to mourn him, as though my not own ing its loss?” at nickmattos@justout.com. i-------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- -----------, remember to breathe BY N IC K M A TTO S “ Maybe we find out how close we “I’m starting to think that we don’t get to know that in advance,” Bobby says, his dilated eyes locked with mine. “Maybe we find out how close we actually were to something, how big a space it occupied in our hearts, when it leaves and we are forced to grieve it. I found that out when I burst into tears over Cranford Nix, you found that out when the cat died, we all found that out with Amy W inehouse if we hadn’t already learned it a million times over before her. You don’t get to choose when grief is going to hit you—you just get to feel the bruise, and let it compel you to spill a little in memory o f the people you’ve lost.” And, with solemnly closed eyes, Bobby splashes the con tents of his fifth beer onto the dirty carpet. “Shit!” I laugh, shocked. “Someone’s not getting invited back.” “W hatever— I wasn’t invited anyway! And look, the carpet’s filthy already.” I look at my glass o f soda water, then back to Bobby. “To Cranford,” I say, holding it up in a cheer, “and Amy, and Panna the cat, and every one else who left their bodies and went on to the next adventure.” I tip my glass, watch the liquid fall through the air and sink out of sight in the dirty carpet, and smile. J#] magazines clothing. lingerie multichannel arcade huge selection gift cards available m m electro-sensations products are IW - n ■ i ■ fïÏÏÎCTMETiTrol a whole new direction AIL $9.95 OVDs ARE $ 7.95 Offer Expires 8-31-2011 — ■ WWW.TABOOVIDEO.COM — VANCOUVER 82ND AVE. 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