2009

It’s going to take me a minute to fully remember what my life was like back in 2009, but I suppose that’s the way it goes.

You just keep living, and moving, and searching for that ultimate goal, and then one day, you either get to it, or you don’t.

I guess that’s also a great way of describing how people feel about Mac Miller, now that I think about it.

You either love his music or you don’t. I don’t think there’s a middle ground.

I didn’t really listen to Mac back then. In fact I hardly knew who the dude was, but then again things were very different.

I was still in college and a new father at 25 years old; it very much felt like the moment where I had to do something. Finally.

The first years of my twenties were spent hidden away in a small college town trying to recover from how traumatic and insane my adolescence really was, and if I’m being up front, all the madness wasn’t just about the rave, although that was there too.

The one good thing, I can say about that period, though, looking back, is the simple truth that during that time away, I really took it easy on myself, which is something I don’t think Mac can say, though, can he?

With Mac it feels like he was always struggling and I guess that’s why I identify with him so much now that I’m older. As hard as we want to pretend we have our shit together, most times than not, we just don’t.

The Rave is a good example of that.

Raves were going through a lot back then too, in a much different way than they are now. To be a raver meant to be considered a drugged up criminal, and not just with the authority but also with family and friends.

You see one news report and you’ve seen them all, and back then everybody watched the news. Which is part of why we walked away. We just stopped.

Drama at the show. Creepy Local DJ’s. Crews fighting for their spots. It’s the kind of thing that never changes, and yet one day you wake up and say you’ve had enough. And as much as I loved the rave, I had reached my limit, and was done.

And that was way before 2009.

Over a decade before I decided to hit the road and become the person I am now, I still just had a dream, but I suppose that’s enough, most of the time. All of the time.

And that’s why I bring Mac up again tonight.

As the fog settles and you can feel the condensation in the air, I realize what made Mac so special was that he didn’t hide the pain he experienced, he embraced it. Something I’m learning to do every day.

We have to live first, though. And struggle, and try, and fail, and give it another shot, but not at everything. With some things you learn the first time not to open that door again.

As he said, ‘It ain’t 2009 no more.’

And I’m not sure If I’d want it to be 2009 again. The road from being a young man to being an old one isn’t easy, and it’s hard to say it was always fun, although, it comforts me to know somebody else was struggling all the same.

In 2009 Mac was still a nobody, but so was I. I may die a nobody, and still I feel the need to write these words. But why?

Because one day, Our day, is gonna come, just like it did for Mac, and so many people before him. And I’m not trying to glorify how he died, or even how he lived, because he would’ve been the first to say that he failed, but that’s the point.

We all lose.

Art itself is the literal manifestation of our expressions. It’s our way of stating how this moment affected us, and it’s a way of making that feeling last long after we are gone. Which is what is happening for Mac now.

His art and his music are only growing.

As each day goes by his words ring more and more true, and they come with a bit of heartbreak from the way they are applied to our own lives.

He saw something before the rest of us, and he wanted to leave us a note for when we finally got there. For when we finally were ready to hear all the things he wanted to say.

I only wish I could’ve heard all the music Mac was still due to make, which is the true tragedy of this story. He still wasn’t done. Still a work in progress. Still undecided on where to go next.

Always changing, and growing, and evolving, even with the struggles and the pain and the sorrow. Isn’t that all of us, though?

Isn’t that the secret? None of us are perfect, or clean, or free of failure.

There’s always somebody in the world we’re afraid to look in the eye. Mac wasn’t wrong for his sorrow, he was simply one of us.

Through what I’ve learned, the very last song Mac Miller played live was ‘2009’, from his album that was released just before his death. The final performance and the final song coming just a month before the morning he was found dead in his home.

Such optimism in his words of encouragement, acceptance and understanding. Such hope for a future that he had no way of knowing he’d never have.

In 2018 Mac Miller died, and by then I was a very different person from 2009, but then again so was he. These words weren’t some way of saying, I figured it out, or that you should go to this show. It’s my way of keeping Mac Miller alive in my own little way.

It’s my way of saying thank you to Mac. Thanks for being on the same road I was, even though neither of us knew it.

Thanks for reminding me today, and every day, that there’s still more art to be made, even if it’s never going to be with you.

* the pictures in this piece are not my own and I claim no ownership. They are simply used for artistic reasons. They are murals from different cities dedicated to Mac Miller.