Sean Ferguson


C&C: Do you love me?

My adoration for people I’ve never met knows no bounds. I try to love everyone, or at least give everyone’s own personality enough room to breathe before I make some sort of knee-jerk reaction. There are people I’ve been wrong about. Livius Nedin from Booked is definitely one of those people. I’ll try to remember to circle back to that in a bit, if I forget, tap my forehead. I’ve always been able to form better relationships with women for some reason. Perhaps it has something to do with the people responsible for molding the person I’ve become. I spent a lot of time at my mom’s mother’s house, and she had something like a gazillion grandchildren under her helm, so she was packed to the gills with Disney movies, most of their strongest characters are female. Maybe that’s it.

 My grandmother was an amazing woman. She was always doling out some sort of wisdom that, at the time, seemed so incredibly inappropriate and overreaching whatever was going on or being talked about. It wasn’t until years later when those trinkets of knowledge at various, almost random moments, came into play more than anything anyone was ever able to give me. I swear, she was comprised totally and completely of love. Her passing at the time was absolutely devastating, but even then was educational. Take care of yourself and those that you care about most, because we exist for a limited time only, like some sort of twisted Blue Light Special. You have this light that you exude, and it has been clearly passed down to your son. You post pictures of him on Facebook, and I just smile. I’ve never met him, I’ve never talked to him, none of it, and I just know he’s going to be something special. And there’s something there that’s far more than just, “Oh, she’s just this personality-butterfly, watch what she does.” There’s more than that, like an honesty and charm and brilliance wrapped in this tiny package of immutable magnificence. I don’t really know how to peg it any other way. In short – yes, yes I do.

I did the interview for Warmed & Bound with the Booked guys and almost immediately got this feeling like they thought I was a clown. And before they read further and are all defensive, I should probably also state that I can be pretty neurotic when it comes to new people. I was making a conscious effort to be as “me” as possible and was morbidly afraid that I was overdoing it and essentially not doing anything FOR the book. So, anyway, after the interview I talked to Robb quite a bit on Facebook and we seemed to connect, having a similar sense of humor and so on, and Livius didn’t seem to have that same interest, like he absolutely couldn’t be bothered, if not hated me. So, SCREW HIM! You know? And then I meet the guy in Chicago at 2012’s AWP and he was nothing but aces, the both of them. They actually told me that they’d hoofed it from another reading states away, delayed going to their respective homes another couple hours, just to meet me – which is another anomaly I can’t quite grasp.

I’m me, you know? I’ve known me for just over thirty-one years, so, yea. I love to use a lot of commas, A LOT. My memory isn’t all that great, and I can be incredibly abrasive. I don’t think I’m all that amazing, but people do that. There’s a loyalty and whatever, and it happens quite often, and maybe one day I’ll just learn to accept it as it is, and be thankful. Chris Deal, love that dude, Nik Korpon too. And they seem genuinely appreciative of my existence too. Nik I’ve met, Chris I haven’t, but both of them – I don’t know. I’m rambling and second guessing breaths that I’m taking, now. I don’t get the Ferguson-allure. That’s all I’m rambling about.

C&C: You were an EMT for quite a while. How did you get into such a thing?

I remember sitting on a stool behind a counter, listening to this girl talk about what it was like being in the back of the ambulance. We were coworkers at a video store, passing time, and she’d launch into war stories, with blood and guts and vomit, and the ambulance careening this way and that. It all sounded so Summer Blockbuster. And there seemed to be a familial bond between these people that didn’t really have anything else in common, but a deranged obsession with getting up at all hours of the night and day, leaving their families and lives behind, to go scoop perfect strangers from their homes and off the streets. Plus, a girl was paying attention to me: talking to me, which in high school wasn’t all that common an occurrence.

 I mean, girls talked to me, I guess. But, it was then kind of the way it is now. I have a magnetism that causes people to describe me as awesome, but I’ve never really quite been able to put my finger on what it was that was so “awesome.”

 Anyway, so a girl was talking to me, telling me her stories and growing up in church it was kind of instilled in me to help people. So, the next thing I know, I’m filling out an application, getting my junk jiggled during a physical exam and then I’m sitting in the back of an ambulance, zipping around town. It was cool. I wasn’t an EMT yet, more or less kind of an observer and assistant, getting this equipment or that. And then I went away to college, and that didn’t quite work out so I came home.

 I had to get a job, so I went back to the medical field, instead of making movies. I got myself an EMT certification and started transporting patients from hospitals and nursing homes to doctor’s appointments and other scheduled procedures. It wasn’t as sexy as the emergencies, but it was a paying gig, and then I continued volunteering for my local company. And that’s kind of how that went, until I eventually was transferred from the transporting job to an emergency service in a neighboring town where a lot of exciting shit went down.

 And now you can’t get me near an ambulance.

C&C: What do you have in your pockets?
I have a pack of Camel Menthol Silvers with seven smokes and a mini blue lighter inside in one pocket. My keys are in my right pocket, including the key to the nearby ambulance hall, my new car, my current residence, my last residence, the residence to a friend, and two mystery keys. No, four mystery keys: I double-checked. Back right pocket is holding the wallet, driver’s license, two credit cards, Emergency Services ID card in case I die and need to be identified, a five and three ones, a spent ticket to Thrice’s farewell tour, two blank checks, two tattoo shop business cards, membership card to my credit union, Regal Crown Club card, Best Buy’s Reward Zone card, and a gift card to Game Stop with a $37 balance on it, that I’ll probably never use. Also, my insurance cards, CPR card, EMT license, and a Chicago bus pass. And now that I’m getting ready to go smoke, my iPhone was just slipped into my back pocket. Oh, and a post-it is in my pocket that says, “Ferg 7/7N 6/30D.”

What can I say that might be of interest about all of that?

The EMT license, it’s my third card, the first two were good for three years, the current card is a five year card that was issued by the New Jersey Department of Health in an effort to save a little bit of money on administration costs. As it stands, it will be my last EMT license as I’m finding it incredibly difficult to climb into the back of an ambulance anymore. There was an incident back in September that could have killed me, and ever since I sort of freak out if I even think about being back there. It comes in handy though, that I don’t work in ambulances as a job anymore, but I still belong to a volunteer organization. It’s kind of sad to think about not doing the ambulance thing anymore because it’s something I’ve done since I was seventeen years old. I don’t know.

The Game Stop card kind of amuses me. In January I made three trips and five separate transactions, buying and selling games back and forth, because I couldn’t figure out what I wanted. Now I don’t own any video game consoles, so a lot of good that did.

The Thrice concert was awesome.

C&C: You love your mom. What makes her so awesome?
I was ten pound and eleven ounces when I was born, and she went back and had two more. Let’s start there. I can only imagine her pregnancy to be a bit like that was done in an early Family Guy episode where Peter Griffin hops in the pouch of a kangaroo, and then the kangaroo drags him on the ground before finally passing out. And then she had two girls after that. Right there, she earns sainthood in my book. Okay, so then I watch television, all of these dramas and such, and sure, the stories and characters are amped up to sell the drama of it all and whatever. But, these kids are screaming at their parents, and slamming doors, and getting in trouble with the police and I have to figure some of that is based in reality somewhere, right? The three of us were relatively good kids. We had our days where we’d get tired of these two other weirdoes being in each others’ personal space and freak out and bicker, but we weren’t problem children. That has to come from somewhere, too, right? As we’ve gotten older, we’ve gotten louder and bolder. We use profanity as punctuation, tell filthy jokes like it’s common conversation, drink and smoke and love tattoos. None of that we learned from her, but no matter how much she shakes her head we still know she loves us unconditionally. And we’re all pretty smart. We don’t always make the best choices or do the best things, but we know the basic things, have the tools within us to be decent human beings in a world where everything would be better on that desert island, watching the rest of human existence burn. The three of us would bring as many with us as we could, if not letting someone live there in our stead.

And name brands were an unknown in our house. We moved around a lot as children, and it always felt like we were constantly the new kids in school. What better way to fit in, but to be and act and dress and have everything that everyone else did. But we didn’t. We always had clothes and weren’t ever hungry or wanting, but name brands weren’t something we knew. One of my favorite things to do as a kid was to lay on the floor and make lists. Lists, always lists, of shit I thought I wanted. I imagined wars and endless battlefields of brightly colored toys, action figures, and vehicles and so there were these lists. Sears or Toys R’ Us or both would put out these mailers in the fall, readying homes for commercialized Christmas, and I’d be circling and listing just about everything I could. I’d rate things with asterisks and stars and underlining everything based on importance. When everything started getting more complicated and expensive, it wasn’t so much the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, but maybe the Turbo Mutant Heroes of Awesomeness, or whatever. And it wasn’t a preference or ignorance or whatever. We still played and had a blast. It was that first sight at Christmas, with these packages exploding from under the tree halfway across the floor. She wasn’t ever trying to compensate for something that was missing or trying to buy our love. Instead, it was the best she could do to check off everything on those godforsaken lists. When I landed in high school it was a little trying at the time, but what did I know? I was some punk fucking kid that wasn’t quite like everyone else. Now, looking back, I’m so grateful. I can’t tell you everyone in my graduating class, because a lot of them kind of just melt together, like some autonomous horde. But trust, everyoneremembers me.

I should probably thank her for that when I see her this weekend.

C&C: Have you found a replacement for your toboggan/hat? Tell me about the journey to find suitable headgear.

I’m beyond thinning and I hate it. You’d be hard-pressed to find me without a hat, anymore. In fact, in Chicago, when I first bumped into Gordon Highland, I was sitting two seats away from him and he didn’t recognize me without a hat on. I was feeling brave at the time, I guess. Headgear has kind of just become part of my identity it seems, which is why I’d surrendered it to you in that care package from the people that went to AWP from our crew. I wanted to send something that was a part of me, and pleasant surprise, it is also functional. Originally you were going to get sunglasses, another thing I can’t live without on account of the panty-dropping blue eyes in my head and their unfortunate sensitivity to light, but the TSA conveyor belt ate them.
Over the years I’ve seemed to just acquire hats, like the one I’m wearing right now is a dark blue Under Armor baseball hat, that I vaguely remember being inherited from a family member without their knowledge. Prior to that, there were two hats, AFI and Tool that have gone by the wayside. One was eaten by a dog and then lost. The AFI hat was just simply lost. And before that, was a bright red Ecko hat, back when Limp Bizkit was awesome or somesuch. I found that from my best friend that had borrowed it from a cousin of his. And so on down the line.

I’ve been searching for replacements, but no one seems to sell hats anymore. I’ve gone to Lids, which is a store that exclusively sells hats, but they’re mostly all sports related things. And although I’m a crazy Phillies and Flyers hat, none of them have spoken to me. Deep down I want a hat or two from bands that I like, primarily Deftones and Tool again or something, but I can’t find them anywhere but the internet. Never will that be done, again. I’d gotten a Sons of Anarchy hat that was supposed to be black. It was dark blue, and when I put it on, that nub where all of the pieces come together at the top, it stuck up like I’d had some misshapen birth defect of some sort. So terrible. Too, I have a rather large noggin, so I don’t really trust “one size fits all” hats. I call bullshit on those.


C&C: I think you’re right about those one size fits all hats. I can wear them, and I have a very average-sized head. But on to the real question – I FRICKIN’ LOVE SONS OF ANARCHY. Who is your favorite character and why?

I kind of like the strong and quiet Opie, torn between the love of his club and the death of his children’s mother. And he makes terrible decisions, marrying that porn star being one of them. Plus, he wears a ski-cap and has a beard, which I both dig. I’m also drawn to Tara and Peg Bundy. The dynamic is elastic there, and the tension on that band is pretty heavy at times. They’re pretty strong characters in the sense that they don’t come off as flat or unrealistic. They have weaknesses, clearly, when it comes to the love of their men no matter what, and as unrealistic as that may seem, that kind of devotion exists. Somewhere out there, these people live and breathe, and I find that absolutely fascinating.

C&C: How many tattoos do you have?

 I have two tattoos at this time. The first one, where I lost my ink-virginity is on the outside of my right calf. It’s a barcode that I had installed back in 2001? Perhaps it was a year after that. I’d just read Jennifer Government, with that slick book cover and wanted a barcode on my face too. I’d expressed this interest to a girl that I was digging on at the time, and her response was simply, “Yea, that’s a great idea, if you’re comfortable with a lifetime career in the fast food industry.” I’ve worked in food services twice before, and they were both fine jobs for the time being, they served their purpose, but the idea of doing that for a decent sized forever didn’t really appeal to me. So the barcode idea shifted down to my calf. I don’t know why it moved that far down, but it did. So, then the question was, a barcode of what, right? Well, I’d also read Fight Club, the book that started all of this for me and I figured I should probably pay tribute to that. Because, let’s be honest here, when I read that book, became enamored with that movie, I was lost. I was spending days on end on the couch, not eating or sleeping or going to work. I’d gotten to a point where being alive was just too much to deal with, and I’d lost faith in some really important people, which I guess was the core of the problem at the time. And then Fight Club comes along and whispers in my ear, “Get over yourself. You aren’t these things, these relationships, these people that have failed you. You aren’t a pair of stupid khakis, and you certainly aren’t the people that have let you down. Rely on yourself or die already.”

I lived.

The other tattoo that I have is on the outside of my left forearm. It says, “I know cause my feet have the scars to show,” a line from an underOATH song, “To Whom It May Concern.” I got that this year, in February at the Philadelphia Tattoo Convention, on almost a whim. I’ve wanted more ever since I was halfway done getting the first, but either the money or inspiration stars weren’t ever lining up. A buddy of mine, totally straight-laced and uptight was like, “Let’s go!” And I was like, “YES! YES! YES!” And so we went, and that song had been stuck in my head for almost a week, that line in particular. So, that’s what I got. It’s a celebration, really, a tribute to the things I’ve survived – suburbia, organized religion, marriage, heartbreak, settling for mediocrity.

So, do I want more? Hells yea. I’d like both arms and across the chest covered, I just have to decide on the details. I have some ideas: The Alkaline Trio heart with the skull inside, a variation on the Deftones’ self-titled album as a chest piece with, “I want to wake up naked next to you, kissing the curves of your clavicle” across my clavicles. Words, lots of words. I’m not a guy that’s into tribal art, or reams of thorns or whatever’s wrapping itself around the biceps of America. And I need to get something in honor of the bond between my sisters and me, because we’re pretty sweet.

C&C: You said some of the nicest things about me that have ever been said in the history of the world. Thank you for that. you seem all-in when it comes to your feelings for people. Do you get your heart broken easily?

I’ll be honest; I don’t really recall what those things might have been. [testament to Sean’s internal goodness that he didn’t realize I was I was referring to his response to the first question] That isn’t to say I didn’t mean them then or don’t mean them today. If they were nice and sweet and about you, then I totally stand by those comments now and forever. It isn’t news that I fall hard and fast without doing my homework, and it often opens me up for heartache. I’ve felt that more times than I can count, but it hasn’t been anything I haven’t been able to recover from, except for once. Even the betrayal I’ve felt at the hands of people that probably shouldn’t be, I’ve accepted those terms and figure that those relationships are just as they’re going to be. You can’t control people and their motivations, that’s their prerogative, what they want to do. If it doesn’t fall in line with where I’m headed, or more and to the point, it conflicts with me or my people, so be it. We’re all in a race to the middle anyhow, why make that race any harder on myself by surrounding myself with the people that won’t help me carry my fat ass to the finish line? As for, “that one instance,” I don’t know what to say. People are going to read this, you know? There was a relationship and it didn’t work out and that person is on my mind every day. That doesn’t exactly make my people happy, but there isn’t a whole lot I can do about that, either. It isn’t like I enjoy feeling like this, like there’s something missing, but if that person doesn’t want to be a part of my life, then it’s probably for the best.

C&C: What’s your favorite thing right now?

I’m not sure. There’s a lot going on right now, that I quite enjoy. I have a good job now, which pays well, and affords me plenty of time to do pretty much whatever I want. For instance, I have my first brand new car, ever. Seriously, I got it with five miles on the odometer. I can go to the movies and most concerts whenever; there are plenty of books on my shelves to read. And instead of spending time watching silliness on television, I pick up entire series and watch them from start to finish the way they should be seen. Right now I’m finishing watching The Wire at the behest of pretty much everyone you and I know. If you haven’t seen it, yea, I agree with them. It’s pretty fantastic. There’s a new Deftones album coming out in the fall, and that’s exciting, but first, Looper. I mean, right?!

C&C: Do you really dance in your house in your underwear like Nature Boy?

I’m watching this Gypsy Wedding craziness right now, I don’t understand these people.

Yes, yes I do, which I can’t quite fathom. Until recently dancing wasn’t something I would do, not even alone behind a locked door. I’d sing, I can sing, that’s what I’d do after school. I’d go up into my room, shut the door, put on headphones, and I would sing all afternoon with the volume all of the way up. But dancing was never something I’d even attempt. Slow dancing doesn’t count, anyone can do that. But yea, all of the sudden, when the roommate’s away and I’m cleaning or doing laundry; or any other random activity is performed with flourishes of ridiculously awful dance moves to music that I’ll rarely admit to enjoying.


2 responses to “Sean Ferguson

  1. I should have known Sean would be this verbose. On a SAMCRO note, I dislike Jackson Teller. On another note: I can take that GameStop card off your hands if you need to make room in your wallet.

  2. Pingback: At Curiouser and Curiouser, the Time Flies…. « Miss Ohio

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