Coming back to Spokane

So i’m writing this from a comfy motel bed in Spokane, Washington (population 215,000).

apartment

Gonzaga School of Law.  Home of my first panic attack and a few terrible answers during Torts class. 

I actually lived in Spokane for a little while, and although my time here wasn’t long, in the grand scheme of things for me, it’s kind of central to my life in some ways.  I lived here for much of 2002/03 attending Gonzaga Law School.   I spent much more time at the Post Falls, Idaho Greyhound OTB than I did the classroom, but I was doing alright.  One day during my second semester there I was sitting in Civil Procedure class listening to the lecture.  When I started feeling “not right.”  I looked over at my classmate Susan and said “I’m going to step out for a second, watch my stuff please,” and I walked out.  I wasn’t freaking out or anything, just kept thinking “I don’t feel right.”

So I walked to the campus medical building and asked to see the nurse.   They asked if maybe I had blood sugar issues, and I assured them that in fact I had just an hour or so ago eaten a delicious western bacon cheeseburger from Carl’s Jr. with a tub of diet coke.  They gave me some apple juice but they tested my sugar and everything was good.  So I chalked it up to nothing and went home.   Well that evening I was laying on my couch watching tv when I went to swallow and couldn’t.  My throat locked up.  It was a weird sensation.  I sprang up from my couch and tried again.  nothing.   I called my aunt Brenda and told her I was having trouble breathing and felt really weird.  She suggested I go turn on a hot shower and that it might be an asthma attack.  I did that.  Still was feeling really “off.”   So I called a schoolmate from Gonzaga who was actually a friend from undergraduate school at U. of Washington.  I asked him if he could take me to the hospital cause something was wrong.   That whole ten minute drive I sat there positive I was dying or was going to die.  We got there and I don’t remember much about it, but I remember they gave me an ativan and said I needed to relax and it was “stress.”  They didn’t use the term panic attack but that’s what it was.

So the next day it happened again.  I started feeling a little off and started worrying and next thing I knew I was panicking.  Then it happened the next day… and the next day…and the….you get the idea.   So I moved home.  I quit law school.  I left Spokane.  And I haven’t been back since.  Until today.

I decided to take a little weekend trip.  I went to Rocky Rococo’s for dinner (favorite pizza place in spokane).  I went and saw where old Playfair racetrack was (more on that below).  I went to my old apartment where the big panic attack happened.  I went to Gonzaga law school.  I’ve found that when I have a panic attack somewhere that it’s always best to go right back or else i’ll make it into a phobia, which I do quite a bit.   So, today was me coming back to the first place it happened, albeit 14 years later.

I certainly don’t think this visit was something I needed to do, or to move on from or anything like that.  Part of me was just curious to see a place I called home for a bit.  Just like i’d love to go see Cincinnati or Shreveport or Portland again.  But what today did bring up was a lot of remorse over what those first few panic attacks have brought since.  I often have viewed my life split into before my dad died and after he died, cause I always thought that was the big event for me.  And it was major.  But there was two years between dad dying and the panic attacks starting where I lived some of my best life.  I was active and engaged with the world.  I played music, traveled, lost weight, and was extremely social.  I hung out with friends all the time.  It was when the panic attacks started that all of that started to whittle slowly away.   For me that’s when life turned the corner onto the road I’m on now and have been on.  A road that frankly, is not great.

I’ve come to terms with some of this, which I think is a big part of adulthood.  Things are never gonna be happy, exciting, good, like they were when I was younger.  My late teens and early 20s were legitimately good.  I was generally a happy person.  I’ve accepted that is the past, even though I wish it was possible to get back to.  Now instead of “happiness” (whatever the f that means) I shoot for fulfillment.  I have a job where I get to be creative and I’ve found being creative is what gives me fulfillment.  If I do a radio show, or an interview, or write something, or make a video, I feel like I’ve done something.  Something tactile, even if just auditory.

I do still hold out hope that being social and active will again be part of my life, but since those days here in Spokane in 2003, that window has shrunk more and more.   But I suppose the answer is just to keep getting up and working at it and hopefully a corner gets turned.  I’m glad I came back here, and given a do over, and knowing what I know now, I wonder if I could have stuck it out over there.  But seeing how things played out in Cincinnati and Louisiana, the answer to that is probably no.  I think what frustrates me most about the anxiety issues is that even though they’re internal, I feel like it’s something out of my control that keeps me down.  That has prevented me from living a better life.  It’s almost like a sentence of some sort without committing a crime.  Or maybe I did commit some crime to the universe that I’m not recalling?  Eh, i’m just rambling now.  Anyways, I’m glad I came to Spokane.

lawschool

Here’s Rocky Rococo! 

rocky

Here’s what’s left of Playfair Racecourse

Nine songs I absolutely love

I was thinking as I was listening to music while taking my morning walk, there are some songs to me that are just perfect.  That even after hundreds of listens they still strike a chord inside of me.  So I tried to think of a handful of songs that I absolutely love.  Here they are in no particular order.

Ben E. King–Stand By Me

Maybe it’s cause of the movie which was such a big part of my childhood, but I think this is a perfect song.  The bass intro, Ben E. King’s incredibly soulful singing, and the simplicity of a wonderful melody.  Absolutely timeless.  People will know this song 50 years from now.

Mother Love Bone–Chloe Dancer

I love the piano intro on this.  The second half of the song, Crown of Thorns is great as well.  But the first two minutes just moves me.  “A dream like this must die.”  Andy Wood dying shortly after recording this makes it all the more haunting.

The Killers–Bling (Confessions of a King)

Not even a single off the mighty Sam’s Town album.  But this song literally gets me dancing every time I hear it.  When I saw them in Vegas I was crying like a baby by the time the ending hit.  I was hooked on these guys when Hot Fuss came out, but Sam’s Town made me a lifelong fan.  I included the live version here cause the build up to the ending is even more intense.

Oasis–Don’t Look Back in Anger

This was the song I was listening to when I thought about writing about this.  It’s perfect.  There’s just no other way to say it.  It’s a perfect pop song.  Instantly recognizable, an amazing verse, a huge chorus.  This is one of those stadium sing along type songs.

Interpol–Obstacle 1

I love how this song builds.  Starts with a single guitar riff.  Adds a second guitar.  Then the drums kick in.  Then finally a bass melody joins before it all combines.  Carlos Dengler’s bass parts in all Interpol songs are incredible, but man do I love them in here.

Lady Gaga–Gypsy (acoustic)

What a talent she is.  Honestly, I don’t like when her songs are done up in full electric pop mode (Alejandro an exception).  But when she’s stripped down to just a piano and her incredible voice, I can listen all day.   I’ve spent a big chunk of my adulthood “on the road” and this song always connected with me in that regard.

Imagine Dragons–Shots (acoustic)

The album version of this song is actually not good.  I heard it on Howard Stern in this acoustic format and it hit my like a punch to the gut.  This version is incredible.  It’s a song I wish I wrote.  It’s all about regret.  The last couple years of my life I’ve focused so much on regret.  On how much damage i’ve done to myself.

Alice in Chains–Would?

I remember seeing this video and thinking Layne Staley was the coolest man on the planet.  And even though he’s been dead for 15 years, I still think he was.
Brandon Flowers–Between Me and You
This is another that goes to that idea of regret.  It’s someone exploring regret in their relationship.  The songs I connect with are always sad songs.  “All my life, I’ve been told, follow your dreams, but the trail got cold.”  This song came out after I had missed out on my dream job and was really at a low point.  It took me a while to realize that indeed a dream I’d pursued for a decade was indeed over.  This song helped me deal with that.  Well, it just helped me cry more and get out the emotion of it all.

Reading Southbound

Well I finally did it.  I was sick this past weekend and as I was laying on the couch I looked up and saw it there sitting on the shelf.  My book.  Southbound had it’s 3rd publication birthday last month and I must admit I’ve been thinking about it more lately.  So i finally read it.   Every so often I get lovely notes from people who read it and sometimes I get questions about certain parts of it.  The two questions I seem to get most often are “was the scene in the Cal Expo chapter real?” and “Who is Maria based on?”

When the book came out I did a bunch of interviews and always kind of used the same answer for most questions.  “The book is fiction and I use my backstory as a kicking off point.  What it really is is a relapse fantasy.  I felt it was safer to play out the relapse fantasy than to actually try the relapse.” sb

That’s all mostly true.  There’s a lot of truth in Southbound but there’s a lot of fiction as well.  I know that’s kinda vague but it is the truth.  As far as those two questions above the answer’s are 1.) Basically true and 2.) She was kind of an amalgamation of two people in the racing business.  Now you can all guess and I won’t tell you who!  But it wasn’t that I was in love with those two people as the character Ryan was with Maria.  It was more I found them compelling and thought they could make a compelling character using features of both.

So back to reading Southbound.  When I say I haven’t read it, I just mean I haven’t read it in book form.  I read the damn thing 500 times during the writing, editing, editing, and editing phase.  I remember thinking all the time during the three years from first word to publishing “It’ll be so cool if someday I get to hold this thing in my hands and read it.”  Then once I finally had it in my hands I never did.  I tried starting it a couple times but I just didn’t want to read it.  So this time I plowed through and found it to be a very interesting and emotional experience.

First of all, I didn’t remember writing a lot of the stuff.  Some sentences I’d finish and think “did I really write that?”  Some sentences I thought were corny or bad.  Some I thought were good.  Some I wished I could go back and edit right there and then.  The parts that were the most emotionally triggering were when Ryan initially leaves on the trip, the panic attack and subsequent showing of his suicide attempt scar to Maria, and the end.  In those three instances I definitely remember having emotions as I wrote them and reading them back I certainly felt the words and the memories of writing them and whatever similarities they may have had to real life.  The one thing I did try and do was put my pain into Ryan.  I think looking back I also wanted to punish him as I felt that I deserved to be punished.

I did spend a lot of yesterday thinking about the psychology of the things I did to that character and some of the bad things he did to other people.  One thing I found interesting is there is very little mention of his father.  Other than noting he’s dead and a story or two about him, there isn’t much.  I thought about that a lot.  And I came to the conclusion that maybe I wanted Ryan to exist in a world where he wasn’t always thinking about his dead father.  Maybe I wanted to give him at least the peace of not dwelling on that.

He also wasn’t very great to women at any point in the book.  I wonder if this was frustration from my own relationships not working out?  I like to be alone and maybe I had him try and push those people away, similar to how I’ve done in my own life in regards to social interactions and relationships?

The book was certainly me processing the gambling, addiction, anxiety, and all that.  But what I still think it is most about is running away.  From responsibilities, from accountability, from family, from friends, from being seen.  There’s a lot of shame in it.  It’s very possible that I might digest the book differently than other readers for obvious reasons.  But that’s what I got from it.

When I finished it I was pretty tired.  There was a lot of feeling going on reading back through it.  I’m still remarkably proud of it.  I’m most proud of just starting and seeing through such a long term and big project.  It was a TON of work.  I’ve never worked at anything in my life as hard as I did on that book.  Three years.  I’m curious to see what happens if I read it three years from now.  Maybe i’ll find it different than I did this past weekend?  Maybe the same?

Emerald Downs: Love, Hate, Love

Saturday is opening night at Emerald Downs and I won’t be there.  Not because I don’t want to be, just cause with the fireworks show and the fact that it’s opening night means that it’ll be packed to the gills and I’ll wait til Sunday to go.  It’s a great time of year.  I’ll never forget Willie the Cat blitzing his rivals on opening night 2004 to set a world record for five and one half furlongs in 1:01.20.  Willie and Slewicide Cruise (who ran 2nd to Willie that night) became two of my favorites that night.  Or Gordy’s Sweet Jordy winning and allowing me and my friend Ben Root to go into the winner’s circle in front of the opening night crowd in 2005.  I’ve been to countless Longacres Miles at Emerald Downs, hit a ton of bets, and lost a ton more.  I had my biggest score there in 2005 when I hogged the whole pick 4 pool one night.  When I worked in the media office there in 2004 I was making $10 an hour.  Emerald used to allow you to cash your checks at the track and one friday payday I cashed my check for $634 and promptly lost it all by the 7th race that evening.  The next day I called my mom to borrow $500 cause I had “an unexpected medical bill” i had to pay.  Thanks mom!

But Emerald is a special place.  This week Scott Hanson wrote about all the people who make it special.  CLICK HERE for that article.  We spent my dad’s last few days on earth at Emerald Downs watching the races while he had his oxygen tank in.  I’ll never forget him saying “You’d think you wouldn’t get pissed about losing a photo at the track cause in a week i’ll be dead.  But I’m really fucking pissed at that little midget.”  He referred to all jockeys as midgets.  As sad as I am he died young, I can’t fathom my dad living in the age of having to be politically correct or respectful.  He’d never survive that.

But after dad died I just kept on going to Emerald Downs.  I spent countless hours there all the time.  It’s where we spent our summers, my friends and I.  It’s where I started practicing announcing and where longtime racecaller Robert Geller helped me to improve at it.  I’ll never forget getting to call my first race there.  It was very emotional.  In my decade as a racecaller I was often asked what my dream job or dream race to call would be.  I always said Emerald Downs and the Longacres Mile.  And I wasn’t even lying.  Ok maybe Santa Anita would be cool too, but Emerald was always the dream.

So fast forward to a Thursday afternoon in Shreveport, Louisiana in early April of 2015.  I open my email and it’s from someone at Emerald Downs.  “The announcing job at Emerald has come open and we’d love to have you come interview for it.”   I drove 2500 miles as fast as I could and on a Friday night walked into the conference room to interview for the job I always wanted.  I was nervous but confident.  The first thing the new GM told me was something to the effect of “We really want to try something new and different and are hoping some young people and/or some women apply for the job as well.”  I sat there knowing I just drove 2500 miles for nothing.  I was stunned.  It was really weird.  It wasn’t even an interview.  They kind of just more asked about the announcing “fraternity” and stuff like that.  Finally the Marketing manager asked some specific questions.  I just ended the interview by saying what I felt was the truth.  “You’re not gonna hire anyone who will have more passion calling these races than me.”

A few weeks later they called me to tell me they were going in another direction.  I knew they were but I was still crushed.  I watched 3 horse races between Mid April and October of that year and all 3 were won by American Pharoah.  I was really bitter about the whole situation.  I was gonna hate whoever they hired so I never even asked who they went with.  I was off social media and kind of just kept to myself for a few months.  I drove Uber full time and watched Mariners games in the evening.

But I learned some things that summer that have honestly served me well.  First of all I learned about entitlement.  I always just assumed I would step into that job at Emerald when Robert left.  For years I was their go to backup.  Everyone there knew I wanted it.  I was gonna get the job and call there for the rest of my career.  And when I didn’t get it I honestly just gave up on announcing.  What was the point?  I responded like any entitled, spoiled asshole would.  I took my ball and went home. Just cause I wanted something doesn’t mean it was owed to me.  I applied for a job and I didn’t get it.  It happens to EVERYONE.

I also learned about bitterness.  It got me nowhere.  I was mopey about not getting my way and bitter about the future and everything.  And my nature isn’t to be bitter.  I’ve always prided myself on not being a jealous type and have always felt genuine happiness when friends or even strangers found success.  So why was I now acting the opposite of that?

So fast forward to last May, 2016.  I was five months into a new job with a new company that had honestly rekindled my passion for racing.  So one day I finally decided to put those old feelings aside and I went and sat at the eighth pole on a picnic bench at Emerald and watched a days races.  It was amazing.  I was happy about being there.  My expectations of it being a bummer were totally wrong.  It was Emerald Downs.  I could still love it.  I listened to the new announcer Matt Dinerman call the races and he did wonderfully.  I thought to myself “If I was 23 and in my first full year of calling at a track, would I be this smooth and composed.”  Hell no.  I honestly felt a sense of pride towards Matt.  He was a young racecaller, as I once was.  He should have my undying support, not my petty bitterness.  Matt has done himself and Emerald EXTREMELY proud with his work there so far.  I can even honestly, no bullshit, no sappy blog writing, say that they made the right decision.

I started going to Emerald each Sunday, parking myself out near the eighth pole away from the crowds.  And each passing week I just enjoyed it more and more.  There’s something remarkably peaceful about watching a race by the head of the stretch by yourself.  When they turn for home and you hear the jockeys screaming, the horses hooves thundering, and nothing else.  It’s my favorite place to watch a race.   So Sunday afternoon, you’ll see a large portly gentleman down at the eighth pole watching.  I’ll be happy.  I promise.