By Gavin Edwards, Travis Barker
Travis Barker’s soul-baring memoir chronicles the highlights and lowlights of the popular drummer’s paintings and his existence, together with the harrowing aircraft crash that almost killed him and his hectic highway to recovery—a interesting never-before-told-in-full tale of private reinvention grounded in musical salvation and fatherhood.
After breaking out because the acclaimed drummer of the multiplatinum punk band Blink-182, every thing replaced for Travis Barker. however the darkish aspect of rock stardom took its toll: his marriage, chronicled for an MTV truth convey, fell aside. consistent traveling hid a significant drug dependancy. A reckoning didn't actually come till he used to be pressured to stand mortality: His lifestyles approximately led to a frightening airplane crash, after which his shut buddy, collaborator, and fellow crash survivor DJ AM died of an overdose.
In this blunt, riding memoir, Barker ruminates on rock stardom, fatherhood, dying, loss, and redemption, sharing tales formed via decades’ worthy of genuinely-earned insights. His pulsating memoir is as full of life as his acclaimed beats. It brings to a detailed the 1st chapters of a well-lived existence, inspiring readers to stick to the rhythms in their personal hearts and locate that means of their lives.
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Additional resources for Can I Say: Living Large, Cheating Death, and Drums, Drums, Drums
But still I kept at it. And suddenly, something stupefying in its horror took place—the dead McCarty, whose soul was by that time totally departed, threw back his head once more and, staring upward at the ceiling with the glassy, unseeing gaze of open dead eyes, roared out to the distant heavens a dreadful rasping whoop that sounded like the hounds of hell were barking. Only later did I realize that what I had heard was McCarty’s version of the death rattle, a sound made by spasm in the muscles of the voice box, caused by the increased acidity in the blood of a newly dead man.
N. Introduction Everyone wants to know the details of dying, though few are willing to say so. Whether to anticipate the events of our own final illness or better to comprehend what is happening to a mortally stricken loved one—or more likely out of that id-borne fascination with death we all share—we are lured by thoughts of life’s ending. To most people, death remains a hidden secret, as eroticized as it is feared. We are irresistibly attracted by the very anxieties we find most terrifying; we are drawn to them by a primitive excitement that arises from flirtation with danger.
Her name is Elisabeth Sifton, and I have tried to treat ideas and the English language in ways that will please her. I ask no greater reward than her approval. There is a second of Laurence Sterne’s aphorisms that applies to How We Die. ” This is my book. No matter the inspiration and contributions of so many others, I declare every bit of it—every conception and every misconception, every truth and every error, every helpful thought and every useless interpretation—to be my own. They are no other body’s.