Linoleum 

Jackson Summer is a mythical adventure that happened one summer and that I wrote about while living it. It's a part of the story that isn't ready to be told, but there are a few pieces I would still like to share. This is one.

There are 9 paintings in progress packed up in my camper that I will take out and continue next time I’m there.

It was the beginning of what would turn out to be a devastating trip in the summer of 2008. August 19th or 20th— the exact time as The '59 Sound release.

But with music there is no time. 

When I can listen to Brian Fallon and Jared Hart cover NOFX from years ago and countries away and it narrates a memory so vivid that it brings me to tears and enters my art, there is no time or space. 

Italy, 2008

He must have seen that I was confused and alone at a Rome train station. He approached me with so much kindness to see if he could help. 

He didn’t speak English and I didn’t speak Italian but we managed to communicate in French. We figured out that I had the wrong time by an hour and I was just about to miss my train. 

He grabbed my bags and raced with them as he led me to my platform. He loaded me and my baggage onto the train as fast as he could. The second I boarded, the train pulled away. It happened so fast.

Something deep wanted to stay with him. The same something that didn’t want to go where I was going. 

He waved from the platform and I waved from the train.

Merci! Merci! Tu es un ange.

He was. 

I knew he was an angel but this was years before I ever knew of Jackson. Now, I have no doubt that was him.

That’s me on the street with the violin under my chin…

Jackson showed up as an angel again in Italy after one of the most defeating nights of my life and the brokenest heart I’d ever experienced—at the time anyway.

I stood on a subway train, sick and sore from crying and delirious from no sleep when a very scruffy man entered. His expression I would describe as ‘all teeth’ if he had more. 

He stood directly in front of me, looked and smiled straight at my face and played the violin. I felt exhilarated by him. I can’t remember if he sang and I wouldn’t have understood anyway. He only stayed for one or two stops and then he was gone but he left me behind with a smile that I needed more than air in that moment.

That’s me on the street with the violin under my chin, playing with a grin, singing gibberish.

Fifteen years later, when I heard that cover for the first time I was deeply submerged in the flood of this story. Chills dribbled down my spine remembering that moment. I wondered: Is someone actually trying to communicate?

In 2008 I wrote “He was there for me and I know that for sure.”

Lately I’ve been spending days by myself on the shore, clearing away rocks, looking for clues and noticing everything. I’m up to level 8.

It was a few years ago that I first heard that cover and now it's playing in my camper as I'm in the depths of the myth. 

But  it's me on the beachside combing the sand.

He's in every grain and I don't wonder anymore--it’s he inside my head.

PS—I have a dog named George who just this morning pissed on my floor.

Here is a link to a YouTube video of Brian and Jared covering Linoleum.