Anyways, back to Wrestlekingdom.  At the Tokyo Dome. The entire event was a trip all in all. The Japanese crowd might not be as vocal and emotive, but what they might seemingly be lacking in “giving back” to the performers via their outward expressions, some might argue that they actually fuel them with their intense focus, respect, and passion for their art form. While US fans will start random chants, and singing theme songs and start noun sing beach balls around an arena when they aren’t into something, the Japanese fans are ALWAYS focused and attentive on what’s going on in the ring. And that’s got to be a big boost to the performers in it’s own right. In the US it almost feels as sometimes the in ring action is an afterthought, and that the fans are just creating fun amongst themselves, but in Japan all focus is on the ring. And after I while I got that and fed into it. And in a way, that’s very thoughtful since these guys are doing such crazy moves that they are literally taking their lives into their own hands each and every time they step into the ring. So let’s show them a little god damn respect.

The matches went on for about 4 and a half hours total, and the highlights were the opener and then the last tow headline matches, but once I realized that the matches would end around 9pm, I told Rich to be ready at the final bell to hit the road and get out of the stadium as soon as the bell rang, because I had a plan for our second round of the night.

It probably comes as no surprise to anyone reading this that I love to squeeze as much action as I can into a single night. I’ve been described as an “event addict” which is totally true. Show me an interesting event and Im down. Especially if Ive never been. I’ve come to posit that I’ve likely attended more different types of events at Madison Square Garden than anybody else who wasn’t working there. That will probably have to become a post of its own his year. But do you know anyone else who has been to MSG for NBA, WBNA, College Basketball, Harlem Globetrotters, And 1 Mix Tape Tour, NHL, Professional Wrestling, Sumo Wrestling, Bull Riding AND the Westminster Dog Show? That doesn’t even begin to count all the concerts, tennis matches, haunted houses, UFC Fights, motorcycle races and monster truck rallys Ive been to there. And that’s not even all. Like I said, show me a crazy event, and I’ll try it out, at least once.

So of course, if there was a chance to jam some more excitement into a night in Tokyo, you know I was gonna squeeze that lemon til the juice splashed all over my sashimi!

Enter the ROBOT RESTAURANT! This might quite be my favorite place int he whole world, and easily the most insane thing I did on my last visit to Tokyo. And for this trip, I wanted to make sure I did it again. But when I got to Tokyo I found out they were closed for the XMAS and NYE season, which is a weird time for a huge tourist spot to close, but they were… and I was gutted. BUT they had 4 shows on January 4th, though the last show was at 9:45pm, and since the main wrestling card started at 5pm, and the fact that it’s not at all rare for NJPW matches to have main events and co main events that both last close to an hour, I wasn’t sure we would be able to make it.

But once I knew there was a shot, I made sure we both split as soon as the final bell rang, and rocketed right out to the subway line for a straight shot to Shinjuku! Shinjuku is two neighborhoods in Tokyo (and there are probably lots more) that feel like Times Square meets Blade Runner with a dystopian Pikachukian sheen. Totally dang BANANAS. Coming top out of the subway was a sensory explosion of skyscrapers, neon, video screen, flashing lights and more people than you could shake a chop-chop-stick at!

Godzilla and the Leopard hot the streets a running and made a mad dash for the Robot Restaurant. When we got there we were told the show was sold out, and that we could make arrangements to come back another night, but we weren’t having it. This was OUR NIGHT dammit, and as it turns out, was really the ONLY NIGHT as Godzilla Richie was leaving the next night, and I was determined to share this madness with him. This was, after all, his birthday present from me. Well the wrestling matches were his gift anyway, but damn if I’m not gonna go down swinging to extend a part, especially when it involves a friend. We wouldn’t take no for an answer, and finally pestered thew until they decided to find a couple of seats for us.

Before we went in, we got some pics taken out front in the laps of super huge amazon Robot women. There were certainly no shortage of folks in the street willing to grab our camera and take the pic for us, and tons of other folks started snapping their own pics. Man, I figured we wouldn’t even cause a blip running around town in our wacky getups, but boy was I wrong.

Both native Tokyoans, and those who visit Japan, really need to step their game up. Or, maybe, just maybe, I should consider toning mine down?  Hahahahahahah NEVER!!!!!

We were cutting quite the scene out there in the streets on Shinjuku, and that’s really saying something. But it was time to exit the streets and enter the Robot Restaurant. Down into the psychedelic rabbit hole into the belly of the beast. For the most Japan thing that Japan could ever produce. Ladies and gentleman, tomorrow’s installment will be 100% focused on the insanity that is the Robot Restaurant. But for today, here’s a little taste via the pic we took outside in the laps of the Robot ladies…

Yesterday was jammed packed and I hit the Japanese Trifeca of jamming 3 nights worth of fun into fanatical Friday night. I was up at 6am, damn jetlag, and ended up leaving my room around 8am, wandered around for breakfast then traipsed all over Shibuya and Harajuku looking for a Godzilla costume. I had ordered a dinosaur onesie, but that didn’t really translate into Godzilla as I had hoped, so Rich ended up wearing that one and I found a skin tight leopard print bodysuit with a hood. Needless to say, we made a striking pair.

Harajuku is wild. Takeshita street is basically jammed with the wildest clothing stories selling all the newest and zany Japanese Youth fashions and everyone comes dressed to the hilt. Gwen Stefani famously memorialized these fashionistas in her Sogn Harajuku Girls. First time I went there the only thing I bought was an enamel lapel pin of two bananas… which, also in Gwen Stefani fashion was B-A-N-A-N-A-S! That joke never gets old. To me.

After that I went back to the room, changed into my running outfit and jogged 3 miles along the Sumida River, which I juts had to look up. I had been referring to it in my own head as there Tokyo River all week, and who even knows if that’s a real thing? Hmmm, it’s weird how you can just make things up and go with them in life. But usually Im a pretty firm proponent of facts and research.

After that it was off to the Tokyo Dome for Wrestlekingdom. The Tokyo Dome is a stadium that anchors an entire complex right in the center of the city known as Tokyo Dome City.  It’s where the biggest baseball team in the city plays, The Yomiyuri Giants, basically the Yankees of Japanese baseball. The complex also houses the Japanese baseball hall of fame, seemingly about a million restaurants, and one of the craziest one two punches of amusement park rides I’ve ever seen. First of all, there’s a ferris wheel with no spokes or central hub. Something only the Japanese would dream up. And then there’s a roller coaster that zooms THROUGH the CENTER of the Ferris Wheel. I rode that one last year. To add to my amazement and magic, it’s called THUNDER DOLPHIN!! It was awesome.

But today there was no time for riding roller coasters. I arrived at the Dome at 3:45 and the first match of the night, the “dark mtach” that doesn’t get shown on the TV Broadcast was set to start at 4pm,. And I had to figure out how to pick up tickets, how to leave one for Rich, which wasn’t at all a given considering that not many folks around Tokyo speak English. But definitely more than in NYC speak Japanese, and then I would have to find a store to buy some beer, because THEY LET YOU BRING YOUR OWN INSIDE. And thank goodness they did, because I bought two cans outside for about $2 each (2 cans is the limit) and the ones inside cost $8! Just like home haha… I somehow ended up making it all happen, and got inside just as the first match was getting underway. Phew.

Wrestlekingdom was everything I had hoped it would be. It’s the largest wrestling event in Japan, and dates back almost 30 years, though only under the WrestleKingdom name for the past 13. Over 40,000 people were there this year. For some reason it’s held ever year on January 4th, no matter what day of the week it falls, though this year was a Friday, so that probably added a bit to the energy of it all.

New Japan Pro Wrestling is the promotion that puts it on, and they have been on a. Pretty amazing hot streak over the past few years, and have also made a lot of inroads to the USA, with a weekly TV program on the AXS network, and a decent roster of American and British talent mixing with their homegrown Japanese stars. All this led to there being a sizable Gaijin contingent, and for some reason they had us all set up in our own two sections. That felt a bit weird, ads I had been shop ing to mingle more with Japanese fans, but, well, I was just happy to be in the building.  Apparently they give All the best seats to the fan club members, which you can only be if you are a Japanese resident, and then they also make the rest of the best seats only available on their Japanese language online ticket sales website. If you want to purchase in English (or Chinese) you get redirected through a different company, and, well, that’s how we all ended up together. One of the things that struck me as a difference between the matches in Japan vs the US is that the crowds in Japan are so sedate… which they would probably rather refer to as “respectful.” But it’s a huge difference e, and one that only seemed more present at the Tokyo Dome.

Int he past, at the 1,600 capacity Korakuen Hall, it felt. More reverential, so almost more normal for people to be so quiet during the matched, but in a a huge stadium it felt, somehow, hollow.  If you go to Wrestlemania or even any big arena matches, Monday Night Raw tapings etc, the crowd reacts to the performers every move not only with boos and cheers, but also with heckles and chants, and songs and, well, anything that entertains them. But at the matches in Japan, all you do is clap politely after a move has been performed particularly well, and then again at the end of the contest. I learned that the hard way Thursday night at Korakuen Hall when tow wrestlers started brawling into the crowd and I shouted a bunch of gibberish at the top of my lungs, something that would have been right in place at a US match, earned me. A lot of head turns and nasty looks. Whoops…. Much more to follow tomorrow…

DISCLAIMER: I just got back to LA from Tokyo, and have lived through two Saturdays. Time travel, for reals. So this post was written over what was probably about 38 hours, but it was all done while I was inside of locale time on January 5th. IKm stopping now, mid-story because Im slightly delerious, and will pick back up tomorrow. Not every day is gonna be a winner, but Ill never skip a day.

I’m about to walk into the Tokyo Dome for Wrestlekingdom. Part of me can’t believe I actually flew to Japan by myself to watch pro wrestling. But then, of course I did. I don’t like pro wrestling. I LOVE IT!

I’m not sure the first time I saw wrestling on TV. I know it must have been at my grandfathers house, because I was told that plenty while I was growing up. But I do remember that first time wrestling grabbed a hold of my emotions and made me FEEL something, and that was when SuperStar Billy Graham came out and grabbed Bob Backlund’s championship belt and started ripping gold plates off of it. I remember being shocked, and upset, and CRYING, literally. I couldn’t understand why the bad man would do that to the good man.  Around the same time, and I’m actually not sure what happened first, was when Killer Khan broke Andrew the Giant’s ankle. The crazed madman from Mongolia came out and jumped off the top rope onto Andre’s leg, stomping his ankle and breaking it. ON PURPOSE!!

I couldn’t make sense of either attack, really. It was such a very simple concept of good vs evil that captivated me. And I was hooked for life.  I was rooting for the good guys, of course, but by the time I got to see my first live match, I had switched sides and was rooting for the bad guys. The man that turned me was the Hot Rod himself – Rowdy Roddy Piper. Sure, he was a bad guy with a big mouth but he APPEALED TO ME. I couldn’t have been more than 10 years old when I went to my first match at Boston Garden which was headlined by Roddy Piper vs Jimmy Snuka, and I smuggled in a fly swatter to hold up to show my disdain for the Superfly. I stuck it down the leg of my pants and walked into the garden with a limp. This was way before the era of metal detectors, so I managed to get it past security no sweat. I only remember two matches from that night, Jimmy Snuka vs Piper and, for some odd reason, The Magnificent Muraco vs a very young and then unknown Bret Hart.

Long before he became the Hitman and one half of the Hart Foundation aka the Pink and Black Attack, he was just a young, somewhat green talent.  Not too green though, of course, because what I couldn’t have know then was that Bret Hart was the son of the legendary and brutal wrestling trainer Stu Hart, so he had come up through the “Hart Family Dungeon”, the wrestling school that was run out of the basement of the family’s home, meaning he had been training literally his entire life. That was back in the day when wrestlers had to be  actual tough guys. So if anyone stopped to them in real life, they would be able to play the part and not bike the whole charade. Keeping up appearances that it was all “real” is known as Kayfabe in the wrestling world. Yup – a made up word. There’s a lot of them in wrestling. Inspired by its Carny roots!

I don’t even know how I was able to evaluate talent at that young age, but Bret left a very big impression on me that day, and I became a fan for life. And remain a fan of his to this day.

Another weird memory that stands out has to do with me being an excellent speller (if not the best typist / proofreader). I came in 2nd place in my elementary school spelling bee in 4th and 5th grade, so my dad made a deal with me for the 6th grade spelling bee and said that if I won, he would take me to New York City, and to a wrestling match at Madison Square Garden.

That was such a literal dream to me. I mean, sure Boston Garden was cool and all but I KNEW that MSG was the Mecca of pro wrestling, but more importantly, that New York CITY was the Mecca of AMERICA, if not the entire world! I ended up in second place in that one too… heart-breakingly… But I figured my dad would let it slide and reward me anyways. But man – WAS I EVER WRONG. He taught me a few lessons with that one… Namely, that you’ll never get anything you don’t deserve, and ALSO, that NYC was a place worth fighting for. So fight for it I did.

I never got to NYC with my dad, But I did get there a few years later, after my 10th grade year, where I dropped out of school after the winter break and went to work as a gas station attendant. I visited NYC with a friend… A trip that started with me getting mugged in Times Square, and ended with me falling off a 6 story rooftop and landing in the trauma unit at NY Hospital for 10 days. That trip changed my life, of course. Most people would have sworn off ever going back to New York City, but for me it only cemented the fact that that was where I was MEANT to be! And I ended up moving there as quickly as I could. I took the first opportunity I had to go and live there, and did so after my first year of college. Well, first I went to LA for 6 months, and THEN I decamped to NYC, knowing that they weren’t gonna leave me down on the farm after I had seen NYCeeeee!

The rest is sort of rock n roll history, isn’t it? I mean, I moved here and went on to start one of the most storied independent concert companies in the history of this city. All without a single dollar of outside investment.  booked the Wetlands, the Knitting Factory, and booked the last 100 nights that ever happened at CBGB. And I conceptualized, created, and have run a series of shows on boats that have transformed the way people see and enjoy live music in the biggest market in the United States of America. Feels really weird to look at it in that light, but it’s all true. Wow.

And that, my friends, is a pretty awesome fucking story.

And I owe it all to pro wrestling.

Writing for Rodney – Day 3

Writing for Rodney – Day 3

Here we go again! Back to Korakuen Hall in Tokyo for some wrestling tonight. It’s the DDT Promotion and I have no idea what to expect. I don’t know who wrestles for them and what any of their programs or storylines are, but that’s ok because it’s a well regarded promotion, and just being inside Korakuen Hall is magical. It’s the Japanese Mecca of Wrestling, and they have matches almost every single night, and only the top promotions in Japan get to run shows there. Through the magic of the internet I’m meeting up with a friend of a friend and his brother, who also flew over from New York City and happened to have an extra ticket for tonight’s long since sold out show. I only made the plan to come here a couple of weeks ago, and was lucky enough to get a decent seat at the Dome tomorrow, but all the other shows happening in Tokyo this week are sold out. I guess that’s an of weirdos like me have made the pilgrimage. Makes feel feel less weird. Just a little bit.

Wrestling was one of the great joys that Rodney and I shared. We went to so many shows. In fact, the first time I ever took Rodney across two state lines was to an ECW show in South Philadelphia. It was me and Rodney and Backyard Bill Stites, and and it provided one of the most striking and stringent memories I have of Rodney. Rodney was a black man. Born in Harlem and raised in the Bronx. But he never seemed to really identify with may parts of black culture. He was a rocker, though and through. Even through the first concert he event went to was with his mother, at Madison Square Garden, in 1977, when George Clinton landed the Mothership. Sure he loved soul and funk, be he was a rocker at heart. His favorite bands of all time were the Beatles and the Stones, and AC/DC and Aerosmith and Cheap Trick. And he had a bizarre fascination with bagpipe bands, which is a whole other story I’ll get into at some point this year.

For some reason that I was never able to ascertain, Rodney was pretty sure that Scottish blood pumped through his veins. So on this trip to Philly, we got lost and were somewhere in south Jersey, and in a very bad neighborhood, and there were a bunch of shady looking black dudes on the street. Shady enough the I reached down on the door handle two lock the doors. At which point I said “Rodney, how does it make you feel as a black man in America to see your people acting like this?” And he SNAPPED back – “JAKE I’M SCOTTISH. IF I WAS BLACK I’D BE FROM AFRICA!” Well fuck. Me and Backyard just looked at each other and both exhaled very heavy breaths at the same time, and I never brought it up to Rodney again. But I DID buy him a set of bagpipes for his next birthday. Something Im sure his roommate never forgave me for. And good, because fuck that guy.

That, again, is a story for another day, but today we are going to focus on wrestling. Another amazing trip was to the Hammerstein Ballroom for what turned out to be the final ECW show in New York City. The crew was me and Backyard Bill and Jason Bau. And Rodney was wearing a Mexican wrestling mask. It was the first time Jay had been out with Rodney outside of Wetlands, and at a certain point in the match Rodney started yelling at the referee, screaming about some rule infraction that the heel had committed, asking why the ref wasn’t going to penalize the offending wrestler. At that moment, I looked at Jay, and his head almost exploded. He couldn’t believe that this grown-ass-man, closing in on 40, still believed that Wrestling was real. But it made perfect sense to me. Rodney really had a gift for living in the moment. And not questioning the reality or the roles of entertainers. There was a captivating story being told, and he was all-in. Every time.

Rodney was a liver, and a believer. He loved what he loved and he made no apologies for it. Which is probably why we got along so well. We marched to the beat of our own drummers, often a rhythm that nobody else could hear, or wouldn’t likely even understand if they heard it. We were soul brothers. Still are, really.

I remember another time when we went to Madison Square Garden for a WWE show, after which I had WWE Superstar Chris Jericho booked to play a show with his band Fozzy at the Tribeca Rock Club. At that event it was me, Backyard Bill, Rockin Rod, and Corn Mo. Jericho was in a tag match against the Dudley Boys, and Bubba Ray Dudley cheated in the match to get the pinfall against Jericho and Rondey LOST IT! He stood up out off his seat and cursed the referee for missing yet another infraction, and Corn Mo was in disbelief. It wasn’t so much as Rodney was getting laughed at, but laughed WITH, because yet again another grown man was in admirable disbelief that Rodney could feel so deeply, about something that we sort of took instinctively as entertainment, but to Rodney, IT WAS STILL REAL TO HIM, DAMMIT!

Later that night, Corn Mo was opening for Fozzy and he brought up that Bubba Ray had cheated to win the match, and said, front he stage, “Fuck You Bubba Ray!” At which point Bubba, who was at the club, unbeknownst to Corn Mo, stormed the stage and proceeded to dress down and threaten Corn Mo which had him very obviously scared shitless. I looked over at Rodney, and he almost had a damn heart attack and started screaming yet again.

And in that moment, I fell even deeper in love with Rodney. Which was a spemthign that happened pretty much every time we hung out.

I wish he could have been with men tonight at in Tokyo Korakuen Hall. Really, I wish he was with me everywhere I go. And in many ways, he is. And Always will be.

#RodSpeed

Rodney was a liver, and a believer. He loved what he loved and he made no apologies for it. Which is probably why we got along so well. We marched to the beat if our own drummers, often a rhythm that nobody else could hear, or would likely even understand if they heard it. We were souls brothers. Still are, really.

I remember another time when we went to Madison Square Garden for a WWE show, after which I had WWE Superstar Chris Jericho booked to play a show with his band Fozzy at the Tribeca Rock Club. At that even it was me, Backyard Bill, Rockin Rod, and Corn Mo. Jericho was in a tag match against the Dudley Boys, and Bubba Ray Dudley cheated in the match to get the pinfall against Jericho and Rondey LOST IT! He stood up out off his seat and cursed the referee for missing yet another infraction, and Corn Mo was in disbelief. It wasn’t so much as Rodney was getting laughed at, but laughed WITH, because yet again another grown man was in admirable disbelief that Rodney could feel so deeply, about something that we sort of took instinctively as entertainment, but to Rodney, IT WAS STILL REAL TO HIM, DAMMIT!

Later that night, Corn Mo was opening for Fozzy and he brought up that Bubba Ray had cheated to win the match, and said, front he stage, “Fuck You Bubba Ray!” At which point Bubba, who was at the club, unbeknownst to Corn Mo, stormed the stage and proceeded to dress down and threaten Corn Mo which had him very obviously scared shitless. I looked over at Rodney, and he almost had a damn heart attack and started screaming yet again.

And in that moment, I fell even deeper in love with Rodney. Which was a spemthign that happened pretty much every time we hung out.

I wish he could have been with me tonight in Tokyo at Korakuen Hall. Really, I wish he was with me everywhere I go. And in many ways, he is. And Always will be.

#RodSpeed

Tokyo. What a foreign city. I’ve travelled all over the world, and Asia in particular, and need have I been anywhere else that seems, so, different. I just arrived last night for my third trip to this place, and I’m still really just leaning how to get the hang of it. The first time I came was in 2013 with Amon Tobin who was headlining a big rave type of festival in an airplane hanger on the outskirts of town. He had invited me to come along and told me that the promoter who looked after him would dial up all sorts of fun things for us to do while we were here. Sounded great to me, so I booked my flight and hotel and off I went. I didn’t bother doing any research, or even buying a city guide book because I figured that we wouldn’t need it. Big mistake. Whoops.

We arrived at night and had a quick dinner at the hotel and then went to sleep and headed to the venue the next morning for setup and sound check. The show was amazing, there were about 10,000 kids going nuts and after the show the promoter camas backstage and started talking to us and at one point Amon asked what the plan was for the week… what sort of things did they have cooked up for us? He got a funny look on his face and let us know that not only would he not be looking after us, but that his whole staff wouldn’t be able to help either. Turned out this festival cal was a traveling event and for some reason they only booked Anon for the Tokyo gig, so the entire company would be on the road dealing with it. So just like that, we were on our own.

Now Tokyo is a strange place, especially for Westerns, and it can begin to feel lonely, fast, which was so stunningly portrayed in Lost In Translation. There are a few things that make it that way, the list notable being the language barrier, and the alphabet.  Try few people speak English here, and of course the alphabet doesn’t help either. The second lost striking thing is that it is a vertical city, sure, New York has tons of tall buildings as well. But the difference is that so much of the retail and restaurants are located up on higher floors, and when you can’t read anything, it’s very hard to get a grasp of where anything might be. In most cities you can just wander around and look inside of windows and it’s very obvious very quickly what sort of establishment you’re looking at. But in Tokyo you have no idea of what is where. So it turned into just a lot of walking around and stumbling into different places. Up staircases and around corners and just opening doors. Sushi maybe? Nope this is a lingerie shop! Whoops. Try again, Gaijin!

To add to the frustration of finding things, for some reason neither mine nor Amon’s phones would connect to the local networks. We both had AT&T at the time and I guess maybe they had been in a fight with the Japanese carriers? No idea, really. But we were phone less, and although I can’t remember why now, there must have been a good reason why we didn’t just get local sim cards. Ah the cruel and sweet irony of being lost without technology in the most technologically advanced city in the world.

We were staying smack dab in the middle of Shibuya Crossing, the worlds busiest intersection, in a Tokyo’s version of Times Square. But on steroids. The electrical kind that GodZilla was hopped up on. So each trip outside of the hotel was an exercise in widening concentric circles. Each time I left I wandered just a bit further. I was deathly afraid of getting lost. I had taken a business card from the hotel, and one night when I was further away that I thought was smart, I didn’t worry too much because I had that card. And I finally hopped into a cab and showed him the card. He was flummoxed. And I was tucked. He had no idea where he was going and we ended up riding around for more than an hour until I finally saw something that looked familiar. And made it home. The next day I was understandably gun shy… but still left the hotel and this time I navigated the subway system and made it to the fashion district of Harujuku. Where I discovered an amazing scene of Japanese youth who were all seemingly anime characters come to life! I finally knew what Gwen Stefani was talking about. THIS SHIT WAS BANANAS!!! B-A-N-A-N-A-S! I ended up buying an enamel pink of a couple of banana that I still keep on my deni jacket to this day. 

Now this trip is different. 5 years later and Tokyo seems to be more welcoming to westerners. I’m not sure if it’s the 5 years, or if it’s that I’m actually building up a appreciation for how things work here, but I’m getting around OK and meeting a lot of folks.

Friday I’ll be attending Wrestlekingdom 13 at the Tokyo Dome – the Japanese equivalent of Wrestlemania. I just decided to do this a few days ago and found a cheap flight and I’m so stoked. The last two times I was in Tokyo i went to Korakeun Hall. The Mecca of Wrestling in Japan. It holds 3,000 people and they do wrestling there 7 nights a week. The first time I went was death match night with barbed wire and light tubes. Me and Amon were totally blown away. It’s right next door to the Tokyo Dome and I always thought – man how cool would it be to come back Wrestlekingdom, and now here I am. Living my dash. Every day is an adventure. and I couldn’t be more stoked. I wish Rodney was here.

Lost In Translation – For Reals

I just landed in Tokyo. It’s my third time here, and it doesn’t get any less weird. I’ve been all over the world, and all over Asia, and this is the most foreign place I’ve ever visited. Nothing makes sense here. Everywhere else I’ve been there’s some sort of standard of figuring things out. In Japan, and especially Tokyo, that’s all out the window.

So it’s fitting that I ended up here on New Year’s Day. A new day, a new year, a new adventure. And a new milestone. 1,000 words a day. Every day. In 2019.

Writing For Rodney.

It’s been almost 3 years since I lost any best friend. Rodney Speed. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was in Holland and got a call in the middle of the night. A text, really. From Erin Ricigliano. As soon as I saw it I knew something was wrong. Very wrong. The man I had come to known as my best friend for the past 18 years was gone.

Rodney Speed was my best friend. My little brother and my big brother last the same time.He was 8 years older than me, black, and autistic, we think. It’s hard to say, really. He was a genius, that’s for sure, A Rock N Roll Warrior. Ive never met anybody who knew more about the history of rock n roll music than Rodney did. And that goes for everybody I know. He was a god damn encyclopedia. You could ask him anything and he works know it. But you never actually needed to ask. If he heard you mention a band he would interject with a dissertation of music history. 

Rodney knew it all, but never came cross as a know it all. If you mentioned a Beatles song, for example, he would tell you what album it appeared on, and what position of the track listing it was. And he could tell you the difference in track order between the US and UK releases. And what the temperature was fin the room when they tracked the song. He literally knew it ALL. But never made you feel like you didn’t. His passion and energy was infectious. Rodney lived and breathed Rock N Roll, and anyone who was lucky enough to be in his orbit would get pulled in. He could lecture you on the most obscure trivia about songs, players, and minutia. And do it in a way that would draw you in and make you invested.

If it was Rock-related, then Rodney knew it. He could sit and talk for DAYS, literally, about rock n roll. Everything you could hope to know, he knew. And he could sign. it, and play it. It’s not at all overstatement to say he lived and breathe rock n roll music. He was a Savant, but certainly no idiot. He was never diagnosed with anything, but anyone who knew him knew that he was m most certainly, “on the spectrum”. He didn’t really know how to interact with people, unless it was to talk about music, but once he established a common bond with you, then you were in the high speed lane on the information superhighway of rock n roll, and there was no exit. Rodney would suck you in, and you wouldn’t want to get out.

He seemingly knew every band, but the Beatles were his rock. Though garage bands were his roll. Nuggets? Check! HE knew every single garage rock song, and knew who wrote it and sang it and played on it. Every instrument. When we first started to get to know one another, I commented on how good the solo was on Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock N Roll” and he let me know that was Ricky Byrd. And then we listened to “Maybe Im Amazed” by Paul McCartney and he let me know that the iconic guitar parts were played by Denny Lane. A name I had never even heard before, even though I fancied myself as a rock afficionado. Rodney taught me that I had a lot left to learn. And he became my Dean.

He probably read more magazines than anyone I had ever met. He DEVOURED THEM. Every guitar mag, and every music mag.He would spend entire paychecks at the news stand and  would carry them around in his backpack. He would memorize every word, and be able to recall it at any time. Rodney housed the most complete set of knowledge abut music and loved to share it with us. Everyone who ever met him was amazed and intrigued by his insights. He could sit and talk for hours about one particular song or album, and then the next day you might run into him and he would wouldn’t even remember you. He didn’t so much speak WITH you, but AT you… He was a treasure trove of info, but the savant in him made it damn near impossible for him to connect with people, outside of just talking at them about rock. But that was Rodney, and that was part of his magic. He was almost like a cat. In that he would sidle up to you when it fit him, and then be completely indifferent when it didn’t But you never took it personally. It was just Rodney being Rodney, And that was his magic.

Rodney was a magical part of my life. He inspired things in me that I didn’t even know existed. He brought out a paternal aspect in me. And inspired brotherly love. And when he passed away, suddenly, at the tender age of 53, it inspired me to run 3 miles every single day in 2016. And now in 2019 Im going to write 1,000 words a day, every day, as a tribute to my fallen brother. A bunch of it will be about Rodney, but all of it will be inspired by Rodney, because he inspires me every single day. I miss him and love him. #Rodspeed