I was horribly insecure coming out of high school. I always had this nagging feeling that I should maybe get a leather jacket or that I wasn't punk rock or cool enough. I dyed my hair black a couple of times but it never felt authentic. I knew it was a superficial attempt to fill a deeper void in my self-image. Then I saw these bands that were all attitude. No regard for fashion. No light show. No leather jackets or spikes. It was all about energy and authenticity to one's self. That particular philosophy of punk is what resonated with me and it was the fuel in Dave Brockie's tank.

Perhaps the greatest sense of relief and empowerment that I learned from being around Dave was that you could be creative without having to buy anything.

You didn't have to move to New York to start a band. You only needed to know three chords to be a songwriter. Your notebook with blank pages was your official poetic license to be an artist and to proclaim your existence to the universe. Brockie himself always had a notebook nearby that he was filling with sketches, lyrics and ideas.

Soon after meeting Dave I started my own band playing original music, The Alter Natives.

We found a practice space in an old, retired dairy factory that bottled milk and made ice cream. Dave had a studio in the same building that he was renting with several other visual artists called The Slave Pit. It was there that Gwar first came to life.

The Slave Pit was always bustling with creation. It was here where Dave Brockie and a ragtag team of art school misfits built Gwar--the costumes, the fake blood, the stage show, and all the stage props. Originally Death Piggy wore the costumes and performed as Gwar for encores but Death Piggy had disbanded and Brockie needed another band. I was honored when Dave asked The Alter Natives to play Gwar.

Dave and I lived and squatted in the Milk Bottle building together. It was located in a sketchy but historical neighborhood called Jackon Ward. It was home and a practice studio to many of Richmond's artists in the 80s. We jammed in our collective practice space for hours together, often losing all sense of time.

Dave was an entire cosmos of spirit and boundless energy. He made you feel like you should be doing something too. It was infectious.

We played together in probably the most unlistenable noise band ever called Armpit. We had an absurdist duo called Deranged Deranged and there was also a group called MILK, which was comprised of other Milk Bottle buidling dwellers.

Dave was a natural leader. He didn't need any official title to command respect. You wanted to join in the shenanigins with him. When he wanted to get Gwar on the news, instead of waiting for a news team to come to Gwar, Dave decided to take it to them.

On a cold winter's day in 1987, we put our costumes on and literally invaded a local Richmond television station, with Dave leading the charge.

The Alter Natives backed Gwar until the end of 1987. There was not enough time to meet the demands and ambitions of both groups. It was an amicable split. I was asked to return in 1989 to help Gwar do a North American and Canadian tour. I revived my character, Hans Orifice, and hit the road for one of the most memorable episodes of my life.

Dave and I picked up right where we left off.

It felt like I was asked by a warrior to return to battle. Much grog was drank and blood was spilt. The tour was like riding the underground wave that was ready to explode. We were hitting the same hardcore network where underground groups like Black Flag and Minor Threat had blazed a trail for us.

The Pacific Northwest scene was particularly memorable. Kurt Cobain was at our gig in Seattle stage diving. Dead Kennedys frontman Jello Biafra was thrown into our meat grinder onstage in San Francisco.

We were barely making enough money to get to the next town.

Strangers would agree to put up the group for the night only to find their home invaded. Props, including fake body parts, were washed out in people's bathtubs and put out to dry in the front yard. Maggots were found growing inside one of the props used to hold fake brains, a concoction of macaroni noodles and food dye.

But all of the shows seemed to sell out and we all felt joyous as we spread our mayhem throughout the land.

Throughout all the chaos, Dave and I kept trying to one-up each other for a laugh. Most of the time this was through writing little songs we'd call "idiot diddies." Our process meant repeating the same lines over and over to each other until somebody came up with a new line that rhymed. One of these little tunes was eventually forged into one of Gwar's most beloved anthems, "Sick of You," which appeared on their 1990 album "Scumdogs of the Universe."

After the tour in '89, I went back to playing with The Alter Natives and Gwar got themselves a proper metal drummer, Brad Roberts aka Jizmak Da Gusha, who has been the keeper of the throne ever since.

I may have left the band but I never left the mission or the philosophy of Gwar which was, and remains, to challenge and to confront the system and The Man.

When Dave got arrested in Charlotte, N.C., after a Gwar show, on obsenity charges, I immediately took his mug shot out of the paper and made a t-shirt which we sold to raise money for the lawyers. This was at the height of a moral political climate where the US government attempted to crack down on art; censoring music and cutting public funding for the arts.

Then the years went by and every now and then I'd run into Dave in Richmond. He seemed to light up when he saw me and would always exclaim, "Jimmy!"

We'd share war stories, talk about new projects we were doing and we'd always talk about working together again. I always believed we would. I knew I could run any idea by Dave and he'd likely support it. He was a warrior for art and creativity.

Dave helped me and many others revise our thinking and philosphy. In many ways he shaped me and others around him--the scene and the entire arts community in Richmond. There's no denying he helped put that scene on the map. But more than that, he was just inspiring and fun to be around. You always knew when Dave entered the room. He was a fire starter, a provocateur.

I love him and miss him deeply. I'm thankful for his friendship and his spirit. That's for keeps.

Jim Thomson owns and operates the Brooklyn/Washington, DC-based boutique record label-Electric Cowbell Records. He currently runs Multiflora Productions, a music agency that produces multicultural global music events. In addition to playing drums as Hans Orifice in GWAR, he has performed with The Alter-Natives, Bio Ritmo, and CSC Funk Band and remains a fearless bongo player. He is also editor-at-large for The Vinyl District, an indie record store blog that focuses on the vinyl record medium.