The very first time I boarded for NU107 was in May of 2003. I had the 10pm – 2am slot. I ordered myself a bottle of beer and got considerably drunk. While there are hundreds of kids better suited for the job, I was busy slurring my intro. In all of my 6 years as an NUDJ, I can only recall about half of it. I’ve taken magic mushrooms while doing the midnight countdown, popped ecstasy while playing requests, took valiums while recording my shows and put the White Stripes on while coming down from an acid trip.
During the first general assembly of the station, I was so drunk I passed out and lost my bag. During my first NU107 Rock Awards, I was so drunk I shouted out my own version of the cue cards and would forever earn the wrath of our director. I would be banned from drinking since then but this does not stop me. During my last Rock Awards, I still had no idea how i got home.
I took pride in my drinking. I called myself Dirty Dylan on Friendster and posted “Bring me your Blues and I’ll bring you the Beer” on Myspace. Dreadlocked, tattooed and with my middle finger up in the air, I became the poster kid for everything immoral and in excess. I was a picture of an individual with an unsatiable thirst for misguided rebelliousness and a taste for a “devil-may-care-attitude.”
This picture was a quick hit with the alcoholic and cigarette sponsored bar tours and concerts. I became a fixture as a rock host, it was all I could do. But hosting paid well and for the first time in my life, I was making some serious money. People started to recognize me. A magazine named me as NU’s Hottest DJ. I signed my first autograph and gave away my first backstage pass. I had my first taste of fame and was beyond thrilled. I wanted more.
The concerts were something else. I would drink as early as my calltime started and will not cease until the next morning when my work has ended. As a means to keep my energy on a roll, I took acid and snorted cocaine before coming up onstage. I shared tokes with strangers. I’ve been electrocuted and have slept on bar’s floors. I’ve passed out in Amoranto and have been arrested by the police twice for public displays of drunkenness and misdemeanor.
Why did I do it?
Because of the thunderous applause.
The autograph signing.
The Friendster testimonials.
The flashes of cameras
and the “awestruck” fans.
I was afraid that if I stopped doing what I did, if I stopped being Dylan, then
Nobody would love me.
I would be worthless.
I would be nothing.
It was a vicious cycle, a black hole.
In my desperate attempt to hold on to the so-called “love” and “fans”, “attention” and “security” , “material wealth” and “possessions”,
I ended up more alone,
It would get a lot worse.
“The Lord does not look at the things man looks at.” 1 Samuel 16:7