As I sit here on my couch: my eyes are red and my stomach is full of Wing Stop. Greg has been in my mind these past couple of days, and honestly, how could he not be? He had been missing for days, and it was just confirmed today that his body had been found in the LA river.
I know that if he could see me right now, he would be slightly joyed.
One of the last times we hung out was about a month or two ago and at Del Taco.
There was no real agenda. No rhyme or reason. I had the time; he had the time. There were no upcoming shows, and Del Taco was there.
Sometimes I can be a little bit of a health nut and conservative about my money when it comes to eating out, but on that particular day, I ordered a "Noah's Ark" of Tacos: a fish taco, a chicken taco, a beef taco, and a turkey taco.
I remember just feeling guilty and expressing this to Greg, to which he cheered me on. He even said something along the lines: "Whoo! Go Fatty Kev!"
And in a way, I felt that day was a victory for him, because in our relationship, I was the health-nut, "hates foodies" kind of guy and he was a man who was a foodie, and aspired to be a chef. I came from a background of people with health issues and passed away due to poor nutritional habits, and he was a guy who just really enjoyed fine food.
And so if he were here to see me now, slumped on the couch with a stomach full of 10 wings, a platter of fries, and a tall cup of Dr. Pepper, I just know that he would approve.
Given my background, I was a jerk about unhealthy eating towards him because I cared. I was that way because I truly believe that tough love is absolutely necessary sometimes.
I was born in this world with an older brother but no younger siblings, and like any dickhead who has a younger guy interested in hanging out, for most of 2014, for better or worse and as cliche as it sounds: he was like a brother to me.
I first met Greg around my 26th birthday. I did a string of three shows: "Birth," "Death," and "Re-birth." On October 13, 2013, he showed up to the last show, "Re-birth," which took place in my living room. It was ultimately a failure of show in my book: a bunch of bands giving me shit for throwing the thing and I played arguably one of the worst sets of my life with people who weren't on the same page about things, but I met Greg. I remember my initial impressions of the guy was that he was one of those "ridiculously chill," mellow guys. In most ways, I was right. In other ways, I was absolutely wrong.
Apparently he had seen me before back when I was doing SAD COMEDIAN, and was a fan of my work. He would tell me time and time again that "Stuck in Traffic on the 405" was his favorite song that I wrote. (I would later find out that he partly liked it 'cause it reminded him of his own song: "6 Years Later.")
Being as he was a fan of the now infamously terrible house show I threw, I told him that I was in charge of Shillelagh Open Mic. At the time, I was sort of stuck in the position, so I was doing everything to promote to people to come out a cramped open mic in a location on the outskirts of the whole "downtown Long Beach" scene. When he asked me if the open mics were anything like my house shows, I lied through my teeth and told them each week was a music party.
And so, he started to come nearly every week.
I'm sure he knew he had been hustled and that my open mic show was a bust, but he told me time and time again that he enjoyed chilling and on top of that, he really liked the pictures that resident open mic photographer, Vaughan Risher, would take.
It was from there that I started to really become friends with Greg.
On one hand, we didn't have a lot in common. We aren't bound to stereotypes, but if I were to describe Greg to a stranger on the street, at gunpoint, I would say: "he's one of the most painfully sincere guys around who's trying his best to be the stereotypical, frat-boy broham, but it's not really in him at all. He both is and isn't image conscious." There was definitely a difference in ethos between us: he seemed really big on capturing every moment on photo or on video. (Read this as: he understands Instagram, and while I just opened one, I'm still not completely sold on its purpose or worth as a social media tool.) He was more in line with a party guy than I'll ever be.
On the other hand, we had quite a couple of things in common. We both had a passion for a lot of creative projects. Most notably, we were Asian American songwriters. In a sense, by having him play during my open mic run, I wanted to be the guy who broke him into the scene. I knew that his act was just out of the norm enough that it wouldn't fit the conventional, rock n' roll scene that exists in Long Beach, and my whole schtick for the open mic was giving opportunities to guys in the local scene who would not have opportunities otherwise. (Granted, I didn't have the creative freedom as much as I'd like given the management I was working with, but I made best with what I had and that's neither here nor there.)
From there, we just started hanging out outside of the open mic. It had been a tradition at Shillelagh (one that initially just started between myself and one of the hostess before me) to have a small, post-show "after-party." Being as Greg was newly initiated into the fold, he originally withheld from any of the post-show gatherings, but eventually I convinced him to join for that.
From there, Tuesdays expanded to weekends. I would see him more and more.
A lot of people in their post-grad life have settled down with careers with weird hours as well as lives with significant others. I had none of (and still don't have) those aspirations, so hanging out with someone younger and still working on building his resume felt like a perfect fit. In a post-grad world, its pretty hard to make new friends, so when you do find someone who's worthwhile, you want to keep them around as much as you can.
On top of it just being a post-grad world, you also have a lot of shallow friendships in the local music scene. There's a lot of people who only want you around as a network or as a number at their show. Greg was nothing like that. Greg wanted to get to really know people, and for that, he always seemed down for a lot of whatever bullshit plans I had going down.
We started doing weekend shoots, where we would hang out at bars, get really drunk and just shoot whatever came to mind. Some of my fondest memories were those Fridays and Saturday nights, just showing up to bars, doing people watching and just riffing on who was there. It was particularly fun going with him to karaoke night at Clancy's, and seeing the same dirty, sleazy "Jim Morrison" wannabe decked out in leather and greasy, long hair. We would make fun of that guy so much, as if seeing that guy was part of our weekend ritual.
Greg had already played a couple of shows for me, but I wanted him to meet some of the other players in the local scene. I'll never forget taking him out to Rebel Bite, getting smashed on Stone "Enjoy By" IPAs, going to a "cool kids" show at Clancy's in Long Beach, and (this is no exaggeration) Greg dances with every girl at this bar. It was inspiring considering I don't even bother going out of my way to meet people anymore, and I just felt like the biggest loser, sipping beer in my corner. We also went back that night to my buddy Shonne's place where he managed to jam with a local musician on a cover of "Seven Nation Army" . . . only to go on to vomit in Shonne's toilet right after.
He would message me the next day with: "It seems to be getting worse and worse the more we hang out," and then proceeded to follow it up with: "We're good for Saturday."
And that's one thing that always inspired me about Greg.
I'll admit: I'm a huge defeatist when it comes to myself. I've worked hard for a lot of things for years and years and never been given a lot of evidence that a lot of what I'm working towards is paying off at the end.
Greg was the opposite. Greg had perseverance. On most days, Greg had confidence.
I don't know if it was just youthful optimism or foolishness, but for the most part, Greg never set any limits on himself.
Greg was the kind of guy who, despite having never played bass guitar before in his entire life, stepped up when I needed a bass player. He even talked about being my colorist and inker on some of my comic books, but that never came to fruition on part of my laziness.
Greg was the kind of guy who you'd never guess would go to a cool kids house show party with me, and come back with phone numbers after only being there for an hour or so.
Like all friendships, I'm not going to sit here and lie that there weren't days that he absolutely pissed me off, and I'm sure there were plenty of days where I pissed him off. However, at the end of the day, I respected who he was and what he was all about.
My only regret was that I wasn't able to see him in these final months. Around September, I started working mornings and he started working evenings. He started feeling a little more shut-in, so our schedules never seemed to line-up. I was thinking for sure that once my work clears up from substitute teaching, I would be able to start seeing him again.
I guess it's like all sudden deaths. I really wasn't expecting to be saying "goodbye" to him so soon.
Goodbye, Greg "Gregdozer" Almodovar.
I used to call him that, but he hated it, and tried to call me "KevDozer" in retaliation.
He did like his own moniker of "Craig Almond Haggis Tyme."
So we'll go with that. Goodbye, "Craig Almond Haggis Tyme."
You are missed. You are loved.
I will take on your spirit to better myself.
If you have any memories of Greg, feel free to share them.
If you'd like to donate to help Greg's family with the funeral, follow this link here. The remaining funds will go to the Salvation Army.
(Greg used to work for them. He used to tell me they would play Macklemore's Thrift Store over and over, and he grew to hate that song.)
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