A series of things happened that made me want to write this. The first was that I read an article in TIME magazine about the expanding universe. The second was that last night, I watched my favorite basketball team, the Indiana Pacers, get knocked out of the first round of the NBA playoffs. The third is that I thought of my band, or lack thereof, today.
The TIME magazine article spoke of an early theory of Einstein. The theory was simply that the universe had a force called Anti-Gravity which counter balanced gravity in the universe. Of course, Eintstein abandoned this theory as soon as he could, placing it forever in the "disproven theories" file in the backlogs of his brain. But science, ever-improving, has recently gone back to this theory, resurfacing evidence that Anti-Gravity pulls the universe apart as steadily as gravity holds it together. According to the article, this will result in our galaxy, the milky way, diffusing within the next couple of billion years. It will cease its existance not in an explosion of light and sound, as thought before, but with a pitiful whimper.
The Indiana Pacers, having lost game 4 of a best of 5 series, is no longer in the race for the championship. This saddens me on many levels, though all of which are completely superficial. First, the Pacers were the team I loved in my youth. The hard working underdogs that seemed to always come through in a pinch. They would make three point buzzer beaters against the Knicks in the playoffs, sending the series into one too many games, sending Spike Lee into a conniption, and sending chills of aspiration through my spine. Conference finals usually ended up comveniently around the time I went off to summer camps, and I remember sitting in the utility room of sixth grade camp with a counselor who just happened to be from Indiana and who just happened to be as nutty about this oddball team as I, listening to radio broadcasts of Reggie Miller, number 31, making impossible shots to beat whichever team happened to be a roadblock to the championship. The funny thing about the Pacers, though, is that when they reached the Conference Finals, Michael Jordan and the Bulls would always end up defeating them. I�ll get into that later.
One summer, as I left for summer camp, I made my mother tape the entire Pacers/Knicks series. My plan was to seclude myself from the world and watch the tapes when I got back, still completely in the dark when it came to the outcome. This plan worked a little too well as one game, which I still have on tape to this day, Miller ended up scoring 8 points in the last sixteen seconds of a game to defeat the Knicks by two. It was amazing. Hitting a three pointer, stealing the out of bounds pass, hitting another three pointer, getting fouled on the opposite end of the court, and hitting both free throws. Amazing. I�ve never seen a more impacting hero in all my life.
Last year, they even went to the NBA finals, under the guidance of coach Larry Bird. This time Michael Jordan was a non-issue as he was too busy owning the Washington Wizards to be playing for the Bulls. They breezed through their conference and met with the Lakers in the finals who pounced them with the help of Shaquille O�neal. It was a sad series.
And during the off season, the Pacers center, Rik Smits, retired and their power forward, Dale Davis, signed with the Toronto Raptors. They were falling apart at the seams. And this year, even after a spectacular, memory evoking buzzer beater in game one to beat the Sixers by none other than Reggie Miller, they ended up losing the series. Their dynasty has ended. They simply aren�t the team they were. And they went out with a whimper.
Alex and the Klingons was perhaps the most exciting, energetic, and musically talented band I�d ever had the privilege to play for. I don�t want to go into great detail about the band for fear that I would lose track of time and end up writing a novel, but it was an indie-rock emo-pop punk band who�s sole purpose was to find any ounce of fun that our music could provide. We broke up a couple of months ago. Technically, we didn�t actually break up, though. After Justin, the former lead singer left, Alex, Goopy and I stayed together, finding just as much, if not more fun than ever. We played about 3 shows without Justin. All High energy. All fantastic. Then we simply quit practicing. Alex had joined other bands that he seemed to like more, which to me felt like a girlfriend openly cheating in front of her boyfriend. The clincher came when Alex and Goopy had a scuffle over drugs, marijuana in particular. I talked to Alex at Men�s Wearhouse, his work, already figuring he no longer wanted to continue the Klingons. His words were something to the effect of "So the Klingons pretty much aren�t happening anymore."
It saddened me, but I locked the emotions away, needing not to deal with the added stress of having my favorite band ever fall apart from under me. I also did not want to hear the questions of, "you guys broke up? Why?" because, quite frankly, I don�t fucking know. Then today, about three months after the "break up," I read a message on the "Alex and the Klingons" message board in which Justin responded to someone claiming that the Klingons needed to get back together. He basically said he was sad that things changed and that they couldn�t be the same. He took the words out of my mind and put them on a message board. The Klingons, as many were quick to point out, never even played a last show. Two years of dedication, and after that, we went out with a whimper.
So I guess that�s life. Our universe, our childhood memories, the things we love�eventually they leave us. And they leave us feeling remorse, regret, disdain, shocked, befuddled, saddened. Maybe there�s nothing we can do about it. As Robert Frost said, "Nothing Gold Can Stay." But maybe there is something we can do about it. Either way, I�m not sure it matters. What�s done is done. I must move on, to find something else that will fade out with a whimper, leave my life empty. Because it�s all I can do.