(re-) Introducing David Philips
Editor’s note: We found him, he found us(?), in a bar…The boss and I at The Monkey Wrench in Louisville…and we were still strangers in town then, come to crash some Fest…and the bar’s cable wasn’t working and Game of Thrones was coming on and this was a situation…but he handled it with aplomb and good humor and took us outside for a smoke while he waited…hell ya, I write, he told us…and so we said, well then, write….
by David C. Phillips
No easy place to start a journey. There are a few key people in my world that inspired me to write. My sister, my Reid homies, my Angela Teach, The Outlaw Poet, and my late mother. The latter was indirect and I know I’m still feeling the impact. Either way, this is me.
Every thing you read henceforth will spawn many a story I may or may not write. I’m a lucky prick who had a lot of advantages growing up, ‘typical’ mid-western white boy with the mother who was a teacher and the father that was a banker. Had most everything handed to me…athlete-ish, came up in the ‘cool’ hood that people covet today, and ridiculously took everything for granted. Start at the beginning and go anywhere they said…let’s take a ride…
A first memory involves a first friend, our fathers were banker buddies, and we were having a royal rumble in the basement. I took a dive into the corner of a pillar splitting my head. Blood, awesomeness, freaked out adults…what a fucking rush. At the same house I recall my parents being out-of-town and me getting a stomach bug, my buddy’s father making me drink fat coke…after every timed I puked. Still friends with this guy today.
My first buzz was at 12. Stole some Makers from my non-drinking parents and hit The Pit on a Summer afternoon. Watered down the bottle and pretty sure I let my older sister take the blame…although actually I don’t think anyone noticed.
Busted drinking underage, in high school, at a Chinese restaurant that was being monitored and we were late to the game. My father has told me that was the moment when ‘your mother was first worried about you’.
O.D.’d on paper acid and beat up one of my best friend’s family, tweaking out, 7 cops to restrain me, election night Monday night, power trip, out-of-body experiences, on life support, my father took video to teach me a lesson, had a psych-eval after coming down with Haldol, got released…straight to the barber shop. Cut that hair, slept for 72 hours, Nirvana ‘Unplugged’ had just come out, had body charlie horses when I woke up, had to call and apologize to my friend and his family, and went on with life at the time. I was 16 and it was November of ’94.
This is me.
I’ve never had very much caution for consequence. ‘You’re not 7 ft tall and bullet proof’ says my father…since I was 5. I’m not hot shit and that’s not what I’m trying to say….it just is what it is. This is me.
Lately I’ve reconnected, properly, with a closest friend. Honestly didn’t know how to word that since I’m quite fortunate to have a lot of close friends. Tonight we reminisced about all kinds of shit and it gave me the perspective to look at a lot of our friends and the paths we all have taken.
I love my life and the paths I’ve taken. I’ve had roughly 114 stitches in my face. Hockey, fighting a dude over a cab while protecting the honor of my girlfriend at the time only to learn my bottom lip was separated from my mouth that would require us to go to the ER for 12 more, etc…this is me.
My mother was one of the best human beings I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. I say ‘one of the best’ because she made me recognize the fortune that we’ve all been blessed with, to experience those people in our lives that have made an impact. Again spoiled…some aren’t. A lot aren’t. Some people have it so much more shitty than some of us that it’s appalling. No fucking call to arms, but get a grip. Anyway, the people that have touched my life I’m more than fucking fortunate to have and you’re ALL appreciated. I wish people would say that more…’thanks fucker, you’re awesome.’ That was easy wasn’t it?
This is me.
I’m taking a journey with some assholes I met outside a bar who really only wanted to chat because I had some stank ass weed and they were from out-of-town and dry. I’ve come to ‘know’ them in a large enough context to trust them. When we met I was piddling around with some writing and said ‘Bah…fuck you. I’ll get you something by noon tomorrow and if you like it then publish it.’
They did….and I had an anxiety attack. Until some praises came through from those I respected and even a ‘keep making art’ from a badass local rocker who continues to pump out goodness.
I can’t wait to tell you my fucked-up shit and relate to some shit that’s going on in this fucking whack world we’re succumbing to.
This is me. David Campbell Phillips. I’ll be here for every publication…and I give you Gonzo Today.
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