May 17th, 2024
I should be sleeping. We have a show tomorrow, and another on Saturday. I also have bipolar disorder but that’s not as important to me right now.
I started a band. Well, Shane and I did. I met Shane on a website for prospecting musicians. Kinda like a dating website, I guess. Shane seemed like a good fit, and it’s looking like he was a wise choice. Myself, I didn’t even really play bass, and I’ve always only considered myself a decent singer – not a great one. We weren’t expecting to really go anywhere with this band.
The first problem was finding a drummer. Luckily, that problem took three seconds to fix.
“My little brother plays drums, actually. He’s pretty good too, but he’s only 19. Is that okay?”
His little brother could have been a monkey with a stick for all I cared, which is exactly what I said. Turns out, he actually goes by “Vanilla Gorilla.” Too funny.
Kai looks like a gorilla. A white one. Too funny indeed.
Anyways, Kai rips on the drums and the band is going swimmingly. We played our first show a year ago, at the Blue Lagoon. Saturday is the anniversary of that show, and we’re playing at The Blue. We are hoping for a bigger crowd this time, because this time we are also celebrating the release of our first actual record: an EP titled “Deceptive Optimism.” Shane chose the name, but I can’t remember who came up with it. I think it was me but I threw out a lot of ideas.
That’s the thing. I told their dad, Matt, that I really do think Shane needs to be the captain of this ship. They really look up to him, I hope my message got through. Sure, I bring a lot to the table – courtesy of the mania inherent with my bipolar disorder – but I’m just not reliable enough like that. Self awareness is a bitch sometimes.
Outpatient X… weird name. I kinda regret it sometimes but it’s growing on me. My idea, anyway. The name comes from hearing “Outpatient Behavioral Health” a thousand times. That’s how the secretaries at Behavioral Health Services introduce themselves when I call. Don’t ask about the X.
So yeah, I have bipolar disorder, but that’s not what this band is about. Not entirely. We just like making loud music together, playing shows, and expressing ourselves and our views. Me, being the most dominant personality in the group just kinda got to pick the name. I try not to be controlling or overbearing with the guys, it’s just that bipolar disorder is a bitch sometimes. Like I said, Shane should be the captain, not me.
What I want is to be the frontman; a rabid animal unleashed on stage; a dancing monkey who harnesses his bipolar curse, rips it in two, and wields it like a flag in one hand and a sword in the other.
We didn’t expect to go anywhere with this band, and we still haven’t, but I can feel something.. something worth fighting for. I told the guys that I know we can get somewhere. Maybe not on the level of Green Day – highly unlikely – but enough people have said enough of the right things to assure us that this band is worth putting in the work. If we can play a show somewhere a few towns over, and 100 people show up to see us, then I can die a happy man. Still, I think we can go further than that. I think we can get to the level where 100 people might show up to see us anywhere. One hundred is a good number, that’s when the crowd starts to feel big it seems, to me at least. The energy is indescribable.
Every cool activity has its own special flavor of high. Climbing, surfing, snowboarding… hell, even SCUBA diving… but performing is one hell of a drug. We’re talking energy and stoke with a unique taste of validation and camaraderie. That’s the problem with snowboarding I guess, you’re not “in it” with anyone else. Boardsports are kinda lonely like that. SCUBA is, too.
Climbing almost gets you there with the partnership, but when you’re out on some scary lead 3000 feet off the ground, and your belayer is 150 feet below, obscured from view, while ripping winds sever all communication… you’re kinda on your own. I should write a song about that.
Anyways. Lots to talk about, but it’s getting late and I have a show tomorrow.
May 17th, 2024, 9:42PM
Played the Vets Hall again in Santa Cruz. Actually had a bigger crowd than when we opened for D.I.. We were slated to go on at 4:30, so I didn’t have hopes of a crowd. Dad said there were easily 40 or 50 people in the crowd, so with the event staff and balconies, there must have been a solid 80-plus people staring at us. Maybe a hundred.
Better still, they liked us. Got a few mohawks dancing, and I saw a lot of pumping fists and nodding heads. It was a great crowd, really, and that energy propelled me into that sweet state of abandon. Shane and I seemed to connect more on stage this time, and in a way I don’t think we’ve done yet. I probably should have locked onto Kai better, but the singing was on point and I was stoked.
We had to cut the set one song short, so we went for Gen. I figured we might as well just do our Misfits cover but Shane seemed pretty stoked so I relented. Overall, a good call, but it was really heavy for me. The song is about my friend who OD’d on heroin and died. The chorus screams, “Wake up,” as if I’m the one who found the body. I didn’t, personally, but tonight, I might as well have. Dad ran up to me after the set, and I cried into his shoulder for a while right in front of everyone who cared to look. Fuck it, let ‘em watch.
Anyways, great set. Got a lot of compliments, even well afterwards. Bill from Nuisance in Public said we should play a show together.
I’m starting to finally see the culture. There truly is a camaraderie inherent to SC’s punk scene. Almost a strange paradox as if it’s not about the fans, it’s about the other bands. Can’t quite put my finger on it yet but I’ll figure it out. I like it, anyway. Obviously, you want fans, but the truth is that the fans don’t “get it.” It’s the other bands that share your struggles, the how’s and why’s of why we do what we do. It takes a special kind of person to pick up an instrument, grab a few friends, and lay it all out on the line in front of dozens or hundreds of strangers and peers. I might not be explaining it well, but try I must. I always do.
May 18th, 2024, 1:08AM
Just played our best show yet, which is rad because it was our anniversary and record release show. Cassie showed up from Mariposa with our logo fucking tattooed on her wrist. Unbelievable. Not a lot of local bands at our level who can say that someone has a tattoo of their logo.
Connected with the crowd on a whole new level tonight. It starts with the nods, then a fist, then a mohawk skanking, then a mosh pit. Next thing you know, people are falling over in the mosh pits, and everyone picks them up with a smile. It pushes you to stomp a little harder; to jump a little higher. Still hard to describe, but it’s easily the best high of my life. Healthier than drugs, that’s for sure.
After the set, people really seemed into us. One guy was like, “Dude, who the fuck are you guys?” Strangers were approaching us and shaking our hands with no small amount of enthusiasm. A few girls wanted to take their picture with us, and one actually asked us to sign a flyer for tonight’s show.
Kai’s drum tech/mentor, Adam, said that we are now “at that next level,” that we need more people to see what we got, and that we need the right promoter to see us so that we can be invited onto bigger bills. It’s all so surreal. Like I’ve said, I would have never expected our band to really get anywhere, but it’s really looking like we just might. No way we’ll ever be NOFX or Bad Religion. Punk isn’t dead, but it’s not really mainstream like it was when I was a kid. Regardless, I’ve told the guys that someday we could get to Good Riddance level, or at least close enough if we put in the work. I don’t know, it’s weird to dream, but like I’ve said: enough people have said enough of the right stuff that I’m down to push this boat as far as I fucking can.
June 3rd, 2024
Haven’t been sleeping much, again. Probably because I’ve been missing my meds. I don’t mean to not take them. But I will admit, mania is fucking addicting. Luckily, mania can be useful.
We need a metaphor. Outpatient X is a boat. When I look around this boat, I see that it truly is a fine boat indeed. It’s not the biggest, nor the fastest, nor the flashiest, but she’s a fine vessel, and I am confident she is seaworthy. The reality is that there is no “New World” waiting for us. No destination. The sea merely goes on and on, forever. What there are, however, are islands. The farther you go, the bigger and better the islands get. On average, at least. Sure, horrible things can happen, but that is a critical part of “adventure.” I guess that’s just the climber in me speaking.
I’ve already said that I’m willing to push this boat as far as it will go, so I won’t beat that horse much longer.
Boats, however, need crew. That crew needs clearly defined roles, like leadership. Like I said, I don’t think I’m the captain; Shane needs to make the big-boy decisions. Kai can be First Mate. I am nothing more than Guide. An advisor. Sure, I’m not the most experienced band member, but I’ve got an entire generation’s worth of wisdom, beatdowns, and raw experience.
My Bipolar Disorder is like napalm to this vessel. I don’t feel like explaining how, but it is. Shane and Kai have demonstrated that they are willing to deal with that risk. In fact, they have already done so: On the third day of recording “Deceptive Optimism,” they expressed concern for my mental well being (I was manic as hell) and dropped me off where I asked them. While I was being pinned down, strapped to a gurney, and shot with Haldol, Shane and Kai continued on and finished the record without me. While that might sound wrong at first, I assure you (if anyone reads this) that they absolutely did the right thing. I was and I am proud of them for taking action, even though they kinda needed me. The fact was, we had a deadline; the record needed to come out on time, and the boys took action as best as they could and in the end, we got a damn fine record. Most importantly of all, the band lives on, and the boys are prepared to deal with me again. I will be eternally grateful.
So call me the faithful Guide, but what I really am is the wildcard. The animal. In the end, the boys are in charge of me. They will keep me in check while I do everything in my power – hopefully without overdoing it – to guide, advise, attack, defend, or man the helm.
Jesse, the beloved Santa Cruz promoter, calls us his “favorite local band in the world.” But he also said recently that he doesn’t want to hold us back. He, like Adam, says that we need to take that next step and get on bigger tickets: opening for bigger bands on tour. So I guess that’s our next destination.
January 26th, 2026
Jesus Christ, where does the time go? As Doctor Malcom said, “Life, uh, finds a way.”
A lot of things have happened since I last wrote in this thing. I had another episode last February, which is always fun. We wrote, recorded, and released a new song, finally. It’s called “Medless.” We’re pretty proud of it, at least I know I am. Adam says it’s a “one in a million song.” The lyrics are basically a few snapshots in my life story, focusing on – what else – bipolar disorder. More specifically, the manic side of things.
Interestingly enough, that episode in February happened on the day we were supposed to go in to record Medless. Think about that. Both times we went into the studio to record, for both Deceptive Optimism and for Medless, I was hospitalized for a Manic Episode. It’s not like I was triggered by the prospect of recording. Just bad timing.
“Bad life decisions” is more like it. Sort of. I don’t want to make this journal all about me and my personal life, but the bipolar thing is kinda part of the band, and it haunts the guys just as it haunts me. Basically, I didn’t like my meds. One of them, at least. Lithium is cool. Abilify sucks. That’s the thing about antipsychotics: the mental fog. Still, it runs deeper than that. You’re not just “foggy.” You’re soulless. Detached. Life loses all color, and you feel so very alone even when physically surrounded by your closest friends. Suicide starts sounding kinda nice, so I told myself, “Let’s just drop the Abilify, and see what happens.” Three days later, I was me again. Three weeks later, I had an episode.
It’s crazy. I went off meds in 2009, dropped out of college, went back to college, graduated, and built a wonderful career over the next ten years before ever having a single episode. Then, on my 30th birthday in 2019, I had an episode. Then, another. And another. Since 2019, I count nine episodes that required hospitalization.
Anyways, we are called “Outpatient X.”
So the band. We did end up opening for a few bigger acts: D.I., The Dickes, The Last Gang, and The Drowns. It was pretty cool, but neither The Dickies nor D.I. actually showed up early enough to watch up play. I get it. They’ve been doing this for decades. What do they care about small-time acts like us? They’ve probably played with thousands of other bands, and I myself can barely remember who we played with in the last year.
The Last Gang / Drowns show was interesting though. There were a good amount of people, and I was pretty manic. One of my friends later told me, “The second you stepped on stage, I could tell you were manic.”
Fortunately, that translated into a pretty energetic performance. People moshed, I danced, and overall I think we made an impression.
Unfortunately, I was so manic that when we closed the set with “Gen” – the song about my friend dying – I ripped my guitar off my shoulders and slammed it on the ground – hard – I screamed, and then I bent over and wept in front of everyone. A few people came up to the stage and rested their hands on me. Pretty trippy. Later that night, the lead singer of The Drowns was thanking the opening bands, and when he got to us he said, “And Outpatient X… I don’t know what the fuck that was but I fucking liked it!” I guess that’s a good thing.
Fuck, did I have an episode after that? I can’t even remember.
What else? Social media… God, I hate social media. The guys are pretty lax about it, and I try to be as well, but there’s no denying that the industry has changed. Catastrophically. I won’t go into “what’s in the hotdog,” but there is a whole formula to it. An algorithm. Several algorithms actually. Spotify, Apple, Youtube, Instagram, Tiktok, Facebook… if you wanna make it big, you have to play the game, at least a little. And that’s what I try to do, play it just a little.
Still, everyone admonishes me when I say, “We’ll never get that big. We’re a punk band in 2025.” I guess it’s 2026 now… Regardless, everyone’s response is always the same, “Not with that attitude.”
But the thing is, I’m not dumb. I do my research. I read, I take notes, I learn, digest, and calculate. Basically, “All hail The Algorythm.” Fuck that. I’ll post some stuff here and there to remind people we exist, but I have no intentions of becoming an “influencer” before I become an artist.
In better news, we are indeed growing. Our neighbors in the East Bay have opened their arms, and we’re starting to play quite a few shows up there, even making a name for ourselves. A few months ago, I was in Berkeley, talking to the singer of a band that had just played their set. I told her I was in a band too, and she asked me for our band’s name. When I told her we were called Outpatient X, one of the guitarists from one of the other bands butted in, “Did you say you’re in Outpatient X? I fucking love you guys!” That was pretty surreal.
So yeah, that’s the gist of it. We’re making a name for ourselves in exotic lands, like Fresno, Oakland, and San Luis Obispo. We released Medless, and we’re already planning to record our next album in a few months. The rollercoaster goes up and down. I guess if it didn’t, it would be a pretty boring ride.
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