Take a load off Annie, and put the load right on me. (Day 5)

So one of the effects I've noticed a lot with Lamictal are the headaches. I know that I most likely won't be feeling anything else, minus a slight bit of nausea and an increased sensitivity to light. But the headaches are really prevalent.

Truthfully, I'd never really had a headache until the day I began taking the lamictal about a half hour afterwards. The headaches aren't bad, or anything. They waiver from the cusp of dull, to momentarily splitting. But it's a dull split if that makes any sense at all.

So I'm really hoping that this effect goes away, because I can't really fathom having to deal with this daily. I'm not a fan of this.

So a little bit ago, the Gaslight Anthem made their television debut on Conan O'Brien.

It meant a lot to me to see them reach that level. This year has been extremely good to them, and they are all tremendous guys whom I've had the pleasure to meet.

When I lived in Albany, New York it felt like I was constantly fighting a battle to find something to do with my free time besides down pain killers and get drunk with hippies at Valentine's bar. Something about living in a new town you'd never previously been too before really exploits how big this planet really is.

And somewhere along the line I began to just solely exist to work, come home and get drunk and eat week old Chinese food while watching Scrubs online. A very numbing existence for a while.

That was until I came across a little band making big waves from New Jersey. The Gaslight Anthem.

Theres something about them thats special. Something that isn't found in most bands. Theres an old soul in a new child's body thing going on with them.

And every song off of that record, Sink or Swim, hit with a vicious onslaught of nostalgia, emotion, soul and hope. And this was only their debut album.

When I moved back to Arizona a few pals and I went to their show while they were on tour. This was during my time when I wrote for an online magazine, with which I've since parted ways. But this night I was set to interview them.

During the interview, something odd happened: While I was in the midst of asking Brian Fallon (lead singer) some schticky, dumb and irrelevant question a homeless man came up.

A thing with a lot of homeless people is the fact that they by and large are crazy. I know I'm not exactly shinning some light on something thats nothing short of an astonishing revelation, but it's true. Mental illness is rampant amongst the homeless community. And this individual wasn't any different. He proceeded to warn us that our lives were in danger, and that he'd witnessed the mayor wipe a few people out.

Me being who I am, I kept the tape recorder rolling and began to interview him as well. This is both an attribute to my willingness to talk to homeless people, and a glaring insight into my ineptitude and unprofessional approach to everything.

But watching Brian speak with the homeless man, I realized that this guy wasn't an egotistical ass too busy for poor people. Sure, they aren't selling out arena's, but theres a buzz about them thats not only actually warranted, but they also do well for themselves in terms of success.

I've talked to people who were much less established who thought they were God's gift to us mere mortals. I'm looking at you, Polyphonic Spree.

But the way he spoke with the homeless man, and the mans reaction to Brian told a story all in it's own: He was treating him with grace, dignity and respect; like he was a human being, and the homeless man hadn't obviously been treated that way in quite a spell.

It made me realize how honest the music was, and I figured out why I'd liked it as much as I do: It was universally human and relative.

They've since released another amazing album, the '59 Sound.

The title track, 59 Sound, has a rolling verse near the end that goes, "Young boys, young girls ain't supposed to die on a Saturday night."

For me that reminds me of many years ago when a friend I'd grown up with had passed away, named Kyle Nathan Long.

It was evident from the moment we all met Kyle that he wouldn't be with us for a long time. Kyle suffered from a disease called 'cystic fibrosis'. It caused his pancreas to expand out of his stomach, prompting him to make countless 'pregnant' jokes. And it was so hard to actually fathom that what he was joking about would one day get the last laugh, and carry him off into...whatever happens after that final breath.

Over the years Kyle's health deteriorated, causing him to have to withdraw from school and be home taught. You could tell it killed him not to try his hardest to live a normal life. It was horrible to watch a friend be robbed of something everyone else got to take for advantage.

But he was a fighter. Each and every time he withdrew, he'd be back looking no worse for the wear. There was something enigmatic about him, where everyone accepted him. It always struck me as strange because kids can be so cruel. But he was loved by everyone.

After we all graduated the 8th grade, I only saw him a handful of times after. Shortly after my Freshman year in high school I received a call telling me he'd died. The next few days were a bit of a daze, and I lived in constant dread of going to his memorial.

I'd just started a job as a dishwasher in a Chinese Buffet that wound up lasting slightly longer than I worked there. In fact, I worked there for about half an hour.

The mortuary was a few miles away, and I didn't really have a ride. But...I'm also no stranger to hitch-hiking.

And elderly man picked me up, and as we drove to the parlor he expressed with great sorrow in his voice how much it troubled him to see youth pass. He asked how he'd died, and I told him about Kyle's condition.

The rest of the ride was silent after I told him that. When we reached the mortuary I went to offer him money for his troubles, when he stopped me and said, "My wife passed two years ago. She suffered from cystic fibrosis, but every day she fought it. There isn't a day that hasn't went by that I don't miss her, and up until now I'd given up on the idea that I wasn't alone in this world..but I don't feel that way anymore."

During Kyle's memorial, there was a moment I won't ever forget.

A mutual friend, because this town isn't all that big so most everybody at least knows of everyone, Tim Hantsche (I could never spell his last name) gave his fond memories. He and Kyle had a very close friendship. He'd been like a big brother to Kyle, everyone knew that.

He told of a time when they'd went to Hooters where Kyle had smooth talked his way into flirting with multiple waitresses. And it destroyed Tim to relive something that would never happen again.

Kyle never had a real funeral. He'd insisted that he donate his body to science, to help research for his condition. It's the most selfless act I've ever seen.

But there was a moment where Tim stared at Kyle's memorial picture, smiled through his tears before he walked away.

A few years ago Tim passed away from medical complications from an illness he'd had for quite a while.

But both were strong throughout their endeavors. It always stuck with me; Kyle's ability to make peace with the fact that he'd never get a real chance in this life. That Tim affected so many people with his humor, and that voice is gone now, too. But what they did in short bursts went on, and continue to do so well beyond themselves.

Theres another line in the song, the 59 Sound, that goes, "Did you hear your favorite song one last time?"

It might be the greatest line ever penned in a song. Something so short and concise, yet ultimately profound. Like life itself, if worked in the context.

I wonder if they'd heard their favorite songs one last time. If there was that much justice available somewhere, I pray that they did.

Near the end of High School another kid who'd also grown up with us passed away.

Me being no stranger to trouble, I was in the Principals lobby waiting to add another notation on my growing record.. As I waited, chaos completely broke loose.

Where our Main Office was, it was right across from the Cafeteria/Auditorium/Drama Room/Band Room/Weight Room. All of these things were compressed together for this...cluster fuck of a building.

Andy Zambrano had been lifting weights, when his heart just gave up on him.

Andy had came into our Elementry/JR High (at the time they were combined) but had instantly been popular, especially with the girls. He was really a great kid.

Watching the ambulance pull up, watching the fire truck pull up...it was a chaotic scene. Eventually I'd been dismissed back to class, and didn't think too much about what'd happened. Later on that day an announcement was made through the loud speakers that Andy had passed on.


At some point, some things stop hurting. It becomes a dull ache that you wish would either dissipate, or become ripped open again. This however alternates between dull ache, and splitting.

Kid's who'd been in my Cub Scout troop now rest while the world puts emphasis on owning stuff. It's a very difficult thing to make peace with, and I hope one day I do.

But I don't want to forget them, either. Their time, everyones time that I've had the privilege of sharing moments with has never been over-looked.

Sometimes life sweeps us away, and there are periods where I completely forget about them, and I feel guilty.

But to be able to find solace in a three chords, verse chorus verse; repeat...is something I could never express my gratitude for. Words fail me, and to be quite honest...thats fine. Somethings are better left unsaid.

I hope one day though that the entire world knows of their existence, no matter how minute. Each of them were great kids, and it's hard to think about a kid dying. Death, in our minds is reserved for the old who've lived a full life. Who've had a chance at heartbreak, love and everything in between.

The hardest thing in the world to do is make someone laugh and smile.

But each one of them did it effortlessly. Thats something special.



So thats about it. Please feel free to leave a comment, spread the word...all of that. You can email me at: aaron.halewilliams at gmail dot com as well.

Until tomorrow!