Daron's Guitar Chronicles Volume 12

919 FEAR OF THE UNKNOWN

FEAR OF THE UNKNOWN

I met Matthew at a coffee place he liked, where they had a downstairs room with lots of little tables and chairs. We settled ourselves with very large mugs of coffee in one corner where the chairs were low and soft. There was music playing I didn't recognize–good music, I mean–which earned the place points in my book.

"So," he said, when we were settled, "we didn't really get a chance to catch up the other night. You look like you're doing okay."

"You say that like you're surprised." I sipped the coffee, which I'd cooled a little with cream but I hadn't wanted to cool it too much since a mug that large was likely to last a while.

"Well, last I'd heard you were on a hell tour. Everyone puking out the windows of the bus–"

"Oh god, that was two hell tours ago," I said. "But, shit, yeah." I showed him the scar on my palm and he winced. "Everyone got the norovirus, but only after Remo went on the rampage on me and Alan for drinking too much, as if that was the only reason to vomit."

He winced again on the word vomit. "Alex and Alan do drink too much."

"The entire band drinks too much, Remo included, but they seem to think as long as you keep it quiet and no one notices, then it's okay." I felt a chill of goosebumps run across my back as I realized how true what I'd just said was. "Shit. Exactly like... like..." I couldn't even put it into words. The meaning was reverberating around in my head. Just like how you used to think about being gay, and look how fucked up that was. And also... I finally spat out: "Like respectable suburban New Jerseyites." I meant that as an insult of course.

Matthew understood what I meant. "Mm-hm. As if the appearance of no problems means there are no problems, in your marriage or your family or whatever." He shook his head.

I felt a little ill at the thought. I'd always thought Remo and the band as better than my parents. Now I suddenly felt I'd been wrong. "That's... disappointing." That was an understatement. "He's... he's just as bad as Digger." Well, okay, and that was an overstatement and Matthew called me on it.

"Oh, I doubt that." Matthew looked at me sternly. "Remo's not perfect but he's not a criminally narcissistic homophobe. For example."

That did give it some perspective, I suppose. "True. Remo's always wanted the best for me, anyway. But I used to think he was so open-minded and such a... a rebel."

Matthew chuckled. "I'm sure he thought of himself that way, too. But now he's the establishment."

"Because he's a father now?"

The chuckle became a startled bark of a laugh. "No, Daron. Because he's fifty-something. And you, the twenty-something, are the rebel. That's rock and roll."

"Oh." Right. "I guess there are times when I really don't feel like a rebel, though. I mean, I'm just trying to make music, you know?" I thought about how my head had been twisted into a new shape after I'd been told for the better part of two years that the guitar was dead and "alternative" was over, and then all of a sudden it wasn't over. But maybe my career was. I decided not to think about it too much right then.

"Everyone's just trying to make the world over in their own image," Matthew said with a sigh. "The Rolling Stones used to be rebels. They were outlaws, disreputable, insane. And then they were big business. And now they're the establishment."

"Clapton, too, I guess."

"Mm-hmm. And then you have guys like Billy Joel who was never really what I'd call a rebel, but was always a great musician and entertainer."