Adam Booher:

More Than A Dream

Many of you may not know my brother Adam. Some of you may know of him though me or my stories of him. Some of you may only recognize his name from asking you about my sleeve dedicated to him or just from finding the song. Today I’m writing this piece for clarity. For understanding. For the image of my brother heard in Dream to be actualized and legitimized. So you can understand why my brother is more than a song. More than a Dream

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5 Years Later

It’s been over 5 years now since I lost my brother Adam. Now, we’ve never had the most typical brotherly bond growing up, but it was there. As someone who grew up with primarily my mother, my brother became a trusted male role model I looked up to often, even given the circumstances of our lives. You’ll get what I mean soon. Although we were never the “Typical Family” one would think when they think of a younger brother / older brother relationship. We didn’t have money. There was family problems quite often. Unfortunately a lot of really bad things happened to my brother throughout his childhood and teenage years that by the time I was old enough to recognize my surroundings he choose to live with our grandmother and subsequently deal with the anxiety & depression that had stemmed from years of bullying, neglect from his absent father (we we’re “Half-Brothers”), and a whole Golden Corral buffet line of one crappy poker hand after another dealt his way. I got to watch as our family’s “on edge” & argumentative nature poured fuel on poorly regulated behaviors while helping steer my brother to drugs & alcohol to dull the pain of it all.

When I say drugs I’m talking Weed, Mescaline, Mushrooms and things. My brother loved the natural, spiritual qualities associated to these. Now he tried other things, like pills, coke, etc. He was the type of person to try everything once, but more or less he was more a naturalist when i came to “Drugs”. Trust me. When I got the latter stages of my teenage years & early adulthood with our family… I understood.

Two Sides

Although through everything my brother had a side to him that’s hard to explain. I’ll try though. He would mask his pain & torment through addiction. To one thing or another. He would bury himself into things to block out the noise. Unfortunately that meant drugs & alcohol. On the other hand it meant knowledge. Book after book, article after article consumed. Knowledge forever ingrained into the conscious mind of someone who wanted to know the answers to all of life’s questions. It was someone never given formal training, yet learned to play keyboard. & guitar all on his own, practicing for literally 8-9 hours a day. I mean to a point where I’d beg my grandma to go to Media Play while we waited on my mom to get home from work just to walk around cause my head hurt from it all.

Adam taught himself how to operate a DAW & do graphic design. To pick up any video game and be the shit at it in less than a day. A person who lost himself in botany & medicine. He could look at a plant and know exactly what it was, what it was used for, how to grow and maintain it, and even its medicinal & spiritual purposes. He knew exactly what medicines did what, for how long, how they reacted to other medicines and OTCs. Adam was able to take his emotions, his surroundings and poured them into abstract art, poetry, and music. A self-taught skater. Knew gear inside and out & would practice endlessly (after spending 9 hours on a guitar), in the dark street or at a skate park in Cincinnati. As he found more of inner-peace later in life he found God & turned his life to not only his passions but also to a life of religion.

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Pages & Covers

On first look you saw the skinny, long pitch black hair, painted nails, Pink Floyd shirt, baggy jeans, tattoos, piercings, probably a Colt 45 or a Blunt, with DC shoes on man that he was on the outside. As a result people who didn’t know the sides of him I just described or understand what he was trying to numb the pain of always looked at my brother and saw: Druggie. Alcoholic. Freeloader. Bum. Hippie. Criminal. Hell even our own family only knew the surface of drugs, alcohol, and music. They weren’t aware how deep my brother truly was.

Outside of my grandmother, my mother and I were the only ones who truly understood Adam. We called ourselves “The Triangle” because for a long time it was just us. We we’re really all we had. Each other. He was a black sheep that our own family cast aside. Trust me, he was aware. I never had the chance to challenge him to an IQ test, but I promise you, his brain was different. They say people with extraordinary IQs can have the hardest time in life. I’m telling you he was up there. An endless hunger for knowledge & creativity. Nothing would stop him. Once he set his mind to something it was amazing to watch. I’d leave his apt. and come back a week later and have hours on hours of him telling me all he’s learned, read, done, or taught himself. My mind was blown.

Little Brother Complex

Artist. Musician. Video Games. Botany. Video Editing. Graphic Design. I always felt left behind in the “why didn’t i get those abilities to be good at that stuff”. You know how all little brothers think. We had our moments. My brother had his issues he was still dealing with, and sometimes it got dealt with in front of me and mom. Again we were it. Triangle. There were times of anger and distrust. There were times of selfish behaviors & actions. At the end of the day though me and my mother were aware of who my brother was. We knew we were all he had left as a positive outlook on a world that had treated him like shit his entire life. Forgive & Forget. We lived by that saying a lot. Even still my brother always had my back. As kids he’d show me how to play games on Sega & N64. I still have his old Sega system to this day & our favorite game to play together ‘Gunstar Heroes’. When Xbox first dropped he made sure I had one too so we could play / he could load Disturbed’s Album ‘Ten Thousand Fists” onto mine as well. He took me to the skate shop with him at Cincinnati Mills Mall (RIP Cincy Mills), and as he custom built his skateboard, he also custom built me one too. To this day I have both the boards we got that day. A cherry red Zero board for him, and a Kelly Green Baker board for me.

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Zero Philosophy Records

As I got a little older, he moved out of our grandmas house and got an Apt. in northern KY out by the hospital my mom worked at. I’d start to spend weekends and days off over there just to hang out. Sometimes even fake sick for days on end (shhh don’t tell mom and dad). What can I say he had all the cool stuff. He eventually got to a point where he was showing me how to record music and his process for drawing, poetry, and anything else I was willing (sometimes unwilling) to sit through. I still remember it clearly. At 11(ish) he sat me down at a keyboard and said “I wanna jam. Play the keys while I play the guitar”. I was the sports kid, that was my thing, so I pretended to be so tired and couldn’t do it. But it was the first time he pushed for me to be apart of it with him. So it means a lot and resonates deep with me still to this day.

It took me awhile longer but by the time I was 13 I was enthralled with music, poetry, & art. I wrote a poem for this girl I had a crush on and he suggested I turn it into a song. I did. It’s called ‘Just Want To‘. The version you can click to hear there is nothing like the original version… Man am I glad that travesty vanished on some hard drive somewhere. That was it. I was hooked. He got me. Music & Sports Have been my 1 & 2 since then. Down the road when he came into some backmoney the Gov’t had wrongly been docking off his disability payments he bought me an insane drum kit. Like 3 grand. Plus gave me his old iMac and recording setup when he got a new one. He knew how much I loved music & went out of his way to support me. He didn’t have to, he wanted to. Adam wanted to do it together. We always dreamed and fantasized about a label of our own ‘Zero Philosophy Records’. About working together to make it happen.

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Turning Point

I went off to college to get my degree in music business. Even knowing how hard it may be, and having my own entrepreneurial aspirations with me, I still carried (and still carry) Zero Philosophy Records with me to this day. After college it was just a blur of coming home briefly before moving to Oregon. I had to work 2 jobs while also working on music and the business venture I went out there for. I tried to make time to talk, but it became hard to find time for myself and others in my life, even those closest to me. During this time my brother moved back to Cincinnati in a 4 apt. block. He was maintaining balance of addiction & religion. Avoiding old habits that were toxic. Although his downstairs neighbor asked a favor of my brother to help him with his poker night, then when my brother came back downstairs to ask if he could join, he laughed at him and shut the door in his face. My brother felt angry. He felt sad. He felt alone. As a result, he went to the store and bought beer to numb the pain. A pain held in check by music, art, Religion & Community, now rearing its head.

Matching Fires

He drank. As he drank more, his anger swelled. Not understanding the consequences in his state he through alcohol on the neighbors door and through a match at it. No one was hurt, but Felony Arson. You hear me mention it in the song mention it and even just typing it out is painful because this is the set of events that directly lead to my brother being where he was when he lost his life. Even with a 10 year difference I’ve carried with me being my brothers keeper. I was the mild-mannered little brother who could help bring joy and clarity to his life. I was in Oregon. Far removed and unfortunately couldn’t help stop something like this from happening. He served his sentence with no issues. But now with nowhere to go. Our grandmother had passed. His housing was gone. My mother, still living with her ex-husband who didn’t want him there. Our other family barely talked with or visited him. He was stuck. Alone. A man riddled with the knowledge and understanding to be successful in ANYTHING he tried, could never catch a break to even be given a shot to try. So, it was decided, he’d enter a half-way, recovery home for non-violent offenders & alcoholics. He was doing well. Holding tight to religion, a bottle of B-Dubs hot sauce, and the thought of someday soon being back home again. God I just wish he could have come back home. One faithful night their house flooded & they were moved to the house with felony drug addicts. I was still working two jobs so I’d always try to answer when he called.

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Our Last Conversation

I remember the last time I spoke with him in late November/Early Dec. of 2014. My dinner break was wrapping up and got to talk with him for a few minutes. I told him I couldn’t talk long, we talked, and told him I was coming home for Christmas and couldn’t wait to see him. That I couldn’t wait for the days when we could play video games and write music. He agreed he was excited to see me & get back to a normal life. I said I had to get back to work at the brewery and I’d call him next time I was free. We hung up. I never called back. Figured I was a couple weeks removed and I could catch up for a whole week. I was also a manager and got asked to delay my trip cause so many people wanted Christmas Off. So I did. My trip got pushed to January 7th. I wish I didn’t.

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The Call

2015. I get a call at like 2am PCT that my brothers being rushed to the hospital. OD. I lost it. I was a wreck.

More details came in. He was placed in a room with two Heroin addicts after the house flooded, and when he got his money out to pay rent and buy groceries for January they OD’d him in the bathroom, locked the door, went for a smoke on the front porch and all the money he withdrew was gone. He suffered & died. Alone. A world that had been cruel. That had given him one bad hand after another, dealt its final cards. Then when cops got called, they ran away. Unfortunately because of Ohio law, every OD is considered just that. An OD. So no murder investigation. I tried moving my flight up. No availability. Got a call on the 4th, that he was declared braindead as a result of being without oxygen for to long and by the 5th they had to pull the plug. I called Delta that day, explained my circumstance, and they gave me a free flight home. Thank you delta.

Our Final Conversation

I got in late that evening. But with enough time to hold his hand. To be with him. To be with family. I got to have one last private conversation with him in person. Either in body or soul I still believe he could hear me. I recorded that conversation and to this day hold on to that recording.

He saved lives that day. His organs were donated to help people across the region. Years later hearing stories from the company now about new food cravings or habits I know there is a piece of him that lives on in them. At that time I slipped into anger, denial, and depression. Why didn’t I just call back? Why not talk some more? I lost myself. I cried every day. Multiple times a day. Today I’ve cried like 5 times. Hell I’m literally wiping away tears right now as I recall that night I said goodbye. As I got to a point of rock bottom I swear, just like my brother bought me a drum set, gave me studio equipment, video games, and so much more to help support & guide me. Once I opened up the the world about my pain, he opened up the world to me & this time he did it from Heaven.

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The Change

I just so happen to have the right conversation at the right time with a good buddy Chris Martignago. Who extended an offer to move to Nashville with him and his then girlfriend (now wife) Kristen. A fresh start. Far enough away from the painful memories of Cincinnati, but close enough to see my mother and father. Not two days later another friend, Tatiana, called and asked if I wanted to go on Vans Warped Tour 2015. It was like he was telling me to live out our dreams. To not fall in a cycle that could lead me down a path I couldn’t return from. Instead a path of light and positivity. The path he was always searching for.

Fast forward to the late fall of 2019. I’ve moved to Nashville and found a direction he would be proud of. Although music, well music fell to the wayside. That spark that was there faded. Replaced by nothing. Only an empty void. I had written some. Even some pretty good tracks in that time period (My Black Heart & Red Wine EP [2016] + That’s All Folks Pt. 1 & some other soon to be released demos in 2018). Although I never felt whole or completed in writing them. I did however in 2019 launch “The Zero Philosophy Project”. I release all of my music through the artist name Zero Philosophy in honor of my brother, and hope to use it as an “artist name” for any musician to utilize to distribute their music as a safe haven. My brother went through a lot (publicly and privately) and utilized music, art, and poetry as a means of expression to cope. I do the same thing now. I hope Zero Philosophy to grow into something artists can feel comfortable sharing their music through when they are speaking on things happening publicly or privately in their lives, but have this as a means of a safe outlet to share with anonymity. While taking proceeds from streams and sales and donating it back to organizations that help artists though tough times, depression, anxiety, etc.

 

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Dreams

Then came last fall. I saw him in my dream. Clear as day. I hear his voice. I wake up emotional about it and I feel an urge to write. Like a calling. So I write about the dream. In recalling the conversation at the hospital I think to myself how I’d want our conversation to go today if we got the chance to catch up. So that’s what Dream x Good To See You is. Me and my brother catching up. Seeing him in my dreams.

I miss him so much. Every day.

Happy 37th Birthday Adam.

I’ll see you someday in the afterlife and we’ll really have a lot to catch up on.