Hardcore Zen_ Punk Rock, Monster Movies and the Truth About Reality - Brad Warner [2]
Before I was a Buddhist priest I was a part of the early hardcore punk and alternative music scene. I played bass in Zero Defex, an Ohio hardcore punk band whose only significant recorded release was the song “Drop the A-Bomb on Me” on a compilation called P.E.A.C.E/ War.* This double album, on which the Dead Kennedys, the Butthole Surfers, MDC, and a host of other hardcore legends appeared, has been reissued numerous times over the past twenty years and because of it our little band is far more well known now than it was when we were playing. I cut a deal with New York’s Midnight Records label and released five albums of Syd Barrett–influenced neo-psychedelia under the band name Dimentia 13 (though on three of those records the “band” consisted of me alone). Those records sold well enough and influenced enough people to earn me the everlasting recognition of my own little footnote in the history of alternative rock—if you own the right coupla books.
As far as earning a living now, I’m in the prestigious line of making B-grade Japanese monster movies. You know the kind: two out-of-work sumo wrestlers dress up in rubber dinosaur costumes and slam the bejeezus out of each other on a scale model of Tokyo made out of balsa wood and model train kits. The company I work for was founded by the late, great Mr. Eiji Tsuburaya, the man who directed the special effects for all of the classic Godzilla movies of the ’50s and ’60s. These days we make a show called Ultraman , which is perhaps the single most popular superhero character throughout half the world—although if you live in the America half, you might never have heard of him.
None of this makes me inherently worth listening to—as I’m sure you’ll be quick to agree. Yet truth is truth. And if words are true, who cares whether the guy who wrote them has Shiho or Divine Inspiration or the power to fly faster than a speeding bullet?
So, if you’re interested in what I have to say, keep reading. If you find something, some little thing that resonates and might do some good in your life, great. If you get to the end of this book (or to the middle, or to page 27 second paragraph down) and think the book is crap, leave it on the subway and forget about it. No problem.
But before you do, ask yourself just one thing:
Who are you?
I’m not talking about your name, your job, or the number of hairs on your butt. Who the hell are you really? And what really is that thing you so confidently call your life?
GIMME SOME TRUTH
Sometimes the truth hurts.
And sometimes it feels real good.
HENRY ROLLINS
NOTHING IS SACRED. Doubt—in everything—is absolutely essential. Everything, no matter how great, how fundamental, how beautiful, or important it is, must be questioned.
It’s only when people believe that their beliefs are above questioning, that their beliefs alone are beyond all doubt, that they can be as truly horrible as we all know they can be. Belief is the force behind every evil mankind has ever done. You can’t find one truly evil act in human history that was not based on belief—and the stronger their belief, the more evil human beings can be.
Here’s one of my beliefs: Everything is sacred. Every blade of grass, every cockroach, every speck of dust, every flower, every pool of mud outside a graffiti-splattered warehouse is God. Everything is a worthy object of worship. If you can’t bow down before that putrefying roadkill on I-76, you have no business worshiping leatherbound tomes and marble icons surrounded by stained glass.
And here’s one more: Everything is profane. “Saving the planet”is a waste of time and preserving the environment is a waste of energy. Flowers stink and birdsong is irritating noise.
On the other hand, nothing is sacred and nothing is profane. Not even your sorry ass. If we hold anything sacred above anything else—ever—we’re riding along in the fast-lane to hell. And