The Last Light Show: A Story About My Friend Midnight

Sometimes the universe sends you exactly who you need...

Even if they show up looking like Rob Zombie at a basement birthday party gig.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

See, before I became known as the webinar GOAT I was just another struggling rapper with a maxed-out Sweet Water credit card and a dream.

$10,000 worth of studio equipment... that I had no idea how to use.

Because the "ultra-talented" guys I was supposed to make music with?

They ghosted me the day I finished building the studio.

Left me standing there... surrounded by gear I barely understood... wondering what the hell I was gonna do next.

But that's the thing about dreams...

Sometimes they don't give a damn about your plans.

They force you to adapt.

So I learned. Everything. Production. Mixing. Recording.

Night after night. Month after month.

Until finally... I had an album.

But having an album was only half the battle...

Now I had to perform it.

Picture this:

Me... fumbling with CDs between songs... Running my own sound... Playing ANY gig that would have me...

It was a beautiful disaster.

Then came that night...

The night that changed everything.

I'm at this basement birthday party, trying to get my cheap light show set up with my buddy Josh. Neither of us knew what the hell we were doing.

That's when I notice this dude...

Standing in the shadows...

Staring at our PAR cans like they were the most beautiful things he'd ever seen.

Now, I'd dealt with plenty of "experts" before. Guys who SWORE they could run sound, or DJ, or produce...

None of them ever delivered.

Not. A. Single. One.

But something was different about this guy.

Maybe it was desperation. Maybe it was fate.

But I turned to him and said: "You know how to run these?"

He nodded.

"They're yours."

What happened next was like watching Picasso paint with light.

This dude turned our cheap-ass equipment into a stadium-worthy light show.

His name?

Midnight.

And that was just the beginning...

Little did I know...

Midnight wasn't just a light guy.

He was a sound wizard. A carnie philosopher. And the most loyal friend a struggling Hare Krishna rapper could ask for.

Picture this odd couple:

Me - the clean-living spiritual dude who wouldn't touch alcohol, drugs or meat...

Him - looking like Rob Zombie but talking like a late-night FM DJ who'd seen every corner of the midwest from a carnival ride control booth.

We became an unlikely dynamic duo.

Playing shows that would make most performers quit music forever...

Like that gig with the live bait vending machine out front...

(If that's not a sign to run, I don't know what is.)

But Midnight?

He came back the next year and WON their karaoke contest...

Singing Rob Zombie, naturally.

Then took his prize money - which he desperately needed for bills …

And bought Smallville DVDs instead

That was Midnight.

The guy who'd drive us 6 hours to a gig...

We’d do our thing...

Then drive 6 hours back through tornado weather at 3am because I had wisdom tooth pain...

Looking at me with complete calm and saying:

"Don't worry. I've studied the winds. They're anticyclonic."

Anticyclonic?

But when Midnight said it... you believed it.

We played wrestling shows, park performances, and hog farms...

Sometimes all in the same day.

He never complained. Never missed a show. Never let me down.

Not once.

Eventually, life did what life does.

I got caught up in business. My spiritual practice slipped. The music dreams faded.

And Midnight?

He just... understood.

No judgment. No guilt trips.

He went back to the carnival life, and our paths slowly drifted apart.

The last time I saw him was at my mom's house, watching the Niners-Ravens Super Bowl.

He let my daughter braid his hair and told us about playing our old music for Lady Gaga at the carnival.

That was it.

Our final scene.

Though I thought about him often... I never reached out.

You know how it goes.

You tell yourself there's always tomorrow...

Until there isn't.

A few days ago, I learned Midnight had passed.

He was 50 years old.

He once told me as a kid he’d have these dreams he’d die after 50.

Here's the thing that breaks my heart and heals it at the same time:

I found his social media...

Discovered he was running an online roleplaying wrestling federation...

Using the name of our old music group.

16 years later.

While I had moved on to "bigger" things...

Midnight kept our dream alive in his own way.

He never forgot.

And I'll never forget him.

Because sometimes the greatest teachers don't come with degrees or certifications...

Sometimes they show up looking like Rob Zombie at a basement gig...

Transform your cheap lights into magic...

And teach you what real friendship looks like.

Midnight taught me that success isn't always what we think it is.

Sometimes it's just showing up. Being dependable. Taking life as it comes. And making magic with whatever you've got.

He taught me that the best friends don't try to change you...

They help make your light shine brighter.

So Midnight, my friend...

Wherever you are now...

I hope they've got one hell of a light show up there.

And I hope you know...

That even though we drifted apart...

The impact you had on my life...

Will always be carried in my heart.

I love you, buddy.

Rest in peace.