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Mike Randle


Son, We All Got It Comin
June 13, 2004

It’s so much more interesting to me to write diaries on the road. it’s more fun and there’s just so much day-to-day stuff that differs each day. and the characters you encounter! being home, or what is supposed to be home, you deal with the realities that are easily avoided while touring. especially if you are in a rotten relationship. I have learned there is no good reason to stay in one. not even children are a good enough reason to justify your soul being torn apart or you changing and treating your friends bad, just because the other person can’t handle anyone being close to you except them. This destroys everything good about either person and when these things go on and you’re on the road, they become dark ominous clouds, visible for all to see. it’s tough for me to laugh like i like to laugh or to express things how i am whe i can really get a kick out of things. it’s difficult to tell a joke when someone’s holding your head underwater. a sense of humor only goes so far. i like to think mine is intact and I am now only begining to giglle about my own personal plight. i have learned a few more lessons in life and I now know i will not make the mistakes i made in the past by simply being a better person. and it feels good to know that. and i am on the road to laughing again and if it was tough, it was tough because i made it that way on myself. But, through it all, i was able to make a record – 11 songs – co-produce it, co-mix it, and play a variety of instruments as well as sing. it was fun EVERY NANOSECOND. and it kept me from losing it. and i think the record probably reflects some of it. If Barstool Blues sounds chaotic at times it’s because I WAS chaotic. funny thing is Scott and me only drank at ONE session…THE WHOLE TIME! i think i forgot to drink, is what happened…(imagine that?) But i did do it my way. maybe it’s not the best idea for 1 guy to sing 99% of the vocals on a record. i HAVE heard people say that. and maybe it’s not best for ME to play drums on a record. i’ve heart THAT as well. those are rules and they are probably good rules. THIS RECORD is uncomfortable. it takes (for me atleast) 5 listens. after that you can FEEL it instead trying to figure out who it sounds like. yes, sometimes the drums are in a reverb wash or they are sahara dry but panned to the left and yes, that draw organ IS loud on ‘Morning Run’. after you get round the corner i’d like to THINK there’s more to the record. And so we’ll see. And, as i’ve always said, someone could email me and say they hate my music and I wouldn’t defend the tunes or the album for 1 second. they are, after all, entitled. and who’s to say they’re wrong? well it seems there are loads of the Gemini folks celebrating as i type this. Hannah is at the Ise of Wight wathcing Bowie and she shares June 14 with my 5 year old, Julian. Also, the Olsen Twins teun 18 today! go girls! (oops, i mean go Ladies!) funny about Julian turning 5. i remember turning five and all a 5 year old knows is what he/she likes and dislikes. and that’s all they care about. well, he’s got 11 more years until he drives and 13 more until he’s a legal adult. he’s gonna continue to do what everyone else does, which is balance the good with the bad, the fun with the not-so-fun. My aunt Bex takes him to church sometime. he hates it. she says he hates it more than i did when i was his age. i find that hard to believe. i told her that. so i ask, why do you take him? well, she says, because she goes to church and if she has him on a sunday morn then he has to go. now, when i was a kid, i used to do anything and everything to get out of going to church. (i believe i developped narcelepsy in the church as a youth) And as a kid, my refuge was – get this – AUNT BEX house! cause her and my uncle Gil had all the cool Motown records and i was allowed to play records all day long. i loved it. But in the late 80’s (or was it the early 90’s), Bex because very religeous and so now she attends church every sunday. and she likes it. she may even love it. but not Julian. he hates it. and he didn’t get it from me cause i ain’t never said a word to the boy about it. he makes up his own mind. but maybe he is better off in the church? i cannot say. i know i’m not, but that’s me. i think he needs to listen better. if i remember correctly, church is not a place you go to talk. it’s a place you go to listen. so all this weighs on my mind, being a dad and stuff. and then there’s the added oddness of sitting down and (in a civlil manner) signing all the papers that make up a legal divorce. a never-ending parade of documents that sums your life’s possessions, your human intentions and your emotional state into little boxes that you check “yes” or “no”. Now, i honestly believe anyone who wants to be married FOR WHATEVER REASON has the right to, under our democratic system. As a human being, we have that right, i would think, REGARDLESS who you are, assuming you are of age. But i felt dizzy, i must admit, when my ex would ask me if i understood a page before signing on this “x” or that “x”. Exez and X’s dont mix, do they? i felt almost like i was being read my last rights before walking the green mile to ‘Old Sparky’. And, for some reason, i thought she might get some pleasure out of this whole thing. you knwo, a big ‘get the fuck out you bastard’ grin or something. but it was not to come. see, we’d gotten married for the wrong reasons. we were together for the wrong reasons. our intentions were noble and no one worked as hard as we did to raise a boy who turns 5 tomorrow. he may never know and maybe he shouldn’t; after all, he didn’t ask to be brought here. but none of these grins or smirks that i that would appear happened at all. instead it was a hard working single mom with a headache who’s hot water heater had broken and water was everywhere but who still had taken her son to the dentist to find out he had a cavity and then she had to drive from North Hollywood to Santa monica to bring divorce papers for me to sign. She has her own story to tell and now has the rest of her life to tell it. There was no celebration, no champayne, no streamers , no whistles and no bells. Just two people who’d done a million things in the course of 7 or so years. many ups, many downs, many break-ups, many reconcilliations. many more good times than bad times. and more than anything else, we really were friends. and will stay that way i’m sure, even though it may not be so easy right now. But it was two people that hugged and pretty much said, nice game. some might say we both lost. i prefer to think we both won. and i was reminded of that line in THE UNFORGIVEN when that kid says to Clint eastwood after Eastwood had shot and killed someone, ” I think he had it comin’ ” Eastwood gives the kid that ‘confused, hang em high’ look and says, ” Son, we all got it comin'”

Mike Randle


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