Well, I guess it's been about 2-1/2 years since I've written anything here. A lot has happened, mostly good, if you can believe that, but yeah, mostly good.
I've been living in Lake Tahoe and Carson City the past three years, and have been working a heavy schedule for most of that time, making some decent money, and enjoying for the most part. There are, though, the usual suspects, venue owners with egotistical motives, who would do their damnedest to punish me for doing things they cannot do, and god forbid, and for getting a little (or maybe a lot) too much attention - attention that has a less than pleasant effect on their body parts. There are the usual musicians with the same affliction. For the most part, though, I've done well in spite of all of it.
A few weeks ago, I decided to see what the music scene was like in Las Vegas. I contacted an agent a week or so ago, and after "Call me tomorrow, call me Tuesday", I finally landed a face to face with a "Bruce". I get there, and Bruce takes me to meet "Frank". Bruce seems to be a nice enough guy - kinda nondescript, 40 something. Frank, on the other hand, is the typical 60 year old grey haired guy, kinda homely, resentment just glaring out from every pore of his body. This is the guy who has spent X amount of years trying to make a connection with listeners, but never been able to, can't play or sing his way out of a wet paper bag, and is angry at any person he crosses paths with who may have some amount of talent, and has actually worked at his craft. He proceeds to tell me how much he loves MIDI, and, that while I'm a "Great player", he "Doesn't know what opportunities there are for me", because I don't do any Ed Sheeran, Dave Mathews, or any of a few other modern day "Artists". While I usually clam up I situations such as this, trying to be polite and non belligerent, and being caught off guard, this time I actually spoke up on my own behalf. I managed to tell him how much I hated MIDI, how "Computer generated music is just wrong", that "You music biz types think you know what works, but ya don't", and that "There is no way in hell I will ever sell out". He didn't have much to say while I was saying my piece, which is surprising, because they usually cut me off in mid sentence, and become very dismissive. While I did manage to say most of what I wanted, the bad part is that this ignorant, self righteous numbskull gets to decide whether I work or not, so, needless to say, I will not be working in any of the casinos that he works with. For the record, I will never do anything - musically or otherwise, that will insult my integrity. Guys like this, they see my videos, my website, and they are instantly enraged, and will do anything to try to insult me, belittle me, to try to make me feel small, try to convince me that I'm doing it all wrong. I've had people trying this BS all my life - from the time I was eight years old, and pretty much straight time from then until now; and for whatever reason, I've never doubted me, never felt small, never felt inadequate or inferior. I never decided I must be that way, it's just who I am, I guess.
So, after this encounter, seeing once again that the business continues to be infested with this kind of person, and after being fed up with the business side of music for at least twenty years, I finally see, without any reservations, that it's time to get out. I have two other avenues to get onto, one is a passion that I've been entertaining (no pun intended), and have dabbled in on two different occasions, and the other is simply something that will generate some income. Neither involves working for some piece of shit company who would use my hard work to fill their bank account at my expense.
Ah well, just another episode of life that glaringly illustrates just how fucked up this once great country, this world, actually is; with the human race being the biggest perpetrator.
See ya next time.
My Journey Of Music And Life
I'm Lee Jones, this blog is about me :D . It's my diary. I talk about my hatred for injustice and unfairness. I talk about my experiences in this nasty music business. I talk about egos. I talk about pathetic little men who seem to be everywhere. I talk about my basketball days, and even my little league baseball days. I don't talk about family, being that I have no family to speak of. It's just me, and I'm more than ok with that.
Saturday, November 18, 2017
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Crime, Hard Work, Abilities, And The Forces Of Nature
All the photos you see here are mine, taken with
my old Canon AE-1, my Canon 30D, or the
digital instamatic (can't remember the model number).
It’s funny the way the forces of nature have worked against me – ever since I can remember. BTW, I blew past self pity and despair at least 20 years ago, now I’m at full blown disgust and hatred for most things. My life is music, always has been. In the fairly recent past, and up until now, I’ve craved wanting to learn new things. There are times I feel the strong urge to pick up my lap steel and learn some new things, maybe write some new pieces – I feel the same about the ukulele, classical guitar, and even the electric – which I’ve spent most of my music time playing. In every instance, outside forces have said, “Nope, you’re not gonna do that, you must deal with THIS first, and THIS is going to take up every waking moment and then some, you think you’re going to spend time with your instruments, haha, watch this, you son of a bitch”. I’ve been trying to get together enough money to buy a classical guitar with a pickup in it (I currently don’t have one), it’s a measly $500, and every circumstance in the fucking universe has converged to prevent it. Just the other day, for the THIRD time this MONTH, my work day got rained out – every time that happens, I lose around $300. One of the times it was the last set, but still – rained out three times in the space of one month – and that’s with the fact that it is NEVER like that up here in LakeTahoe – NEVER. I’m supposed to work tonight, we’ll see, and should that actually happen, I will be ordering that guitar as soon as the money is available in my account (it varies, sometimes it’s immediate, other times it’s the next business day – and it’s always the same check from the same bank as my account).
Just the other day, the day I got rained out. Before the shit started, I was putting
together a couple of instrumental pieces on my electric guitar – to play at my
workplace, I felt motivated, and was in the right frame of mind – until the thunder
and lightning started – which left me maybe an hour of feeling like playing. Since then, I’ve been conversing with me
about the somewhat recurring thought of cutting an artery and being done with all
of it. Yes, I’m damn tired of fighting –
with things and people I can’t even see – because most of it happens from their
hiding places, and/or their positions of power.
I have scoured the universe, trying to find a way to get past this
piddly bullshit, where I won’t have to answer to, or be at the mercy of little
pissant club managers and owners – most of the time whose egos are what drives
them – even moreso than the bottom line (monetary profits). Needless to say, I have yet to find a single
answer.
For whatever reasons, yesterday I got to missing my cat,
Callie – so bad that I couldn’t see straight.
My previous blog post describes that, in case you want to see how I felt
yesterday. There’s also the ongoing
situation where the vindictive ex has my belongings locked in her storage and
is refusing to allow me to get in there to get the stuff out. There are three of my acoustic guitars – one of
which I’ve had since 1982, the other two, five and six years. There’s also my bass, two amplifiers, two
toeres (South Pacific percussion instruments), scrapbooks with my life in them,
a baseball glove that I’ve had since I was 17, and some other personal
things. I’m sure she has justified doing
this, but actually with nothing more than revenge in her pathologically
disturbed mind. I think what makes this
all exponentially worse is the fact that the forces of nature have always been
on the side of such people, and blatantly against me. There are laws against doing what this woman
is doing, but not a single “Law Enforcement” agency is willing to lift a finger
to do anything about it – and she seems to know this – as all people who pull
this kind of thing do – they always know what they can get away with.
I’ve been here in Lake Tahoe for just over a month. I landed a steady two nights a week at one
restaurant/bar. I have spent (literally)
all day, every day, hunting down entertainment managers, only to be jerked
around by their endless bullshit. In one
case, I’m sure the vindictive ex got to the entertainment manager. I did exactly what he said I should do (which
of course I already knew – I know how to play in front of an audience), I had
those people singing, dancing, yelling stuff in the songs, up on the stage
singing with me, I even had the bartenders dancing behind the bar. The following week, I get an email from the entertainment
manager with this cockamamie bullshit saying something like, “You did great, I’m
impressed with your talent, HOWEVER, this is not how I see the club evolving”. I thought I’d heard it all. No entertainment person is going to say such
a thing – maybe I’ll get into that another time. Add to that, I heard from more than one
person that night, “We need you in here more often, they usually have shitty
music in here…”. So, thanks to the abusive,
obsessive ex girlfriend, the fact that she tricked me into telling her that I
was playing at that casino, and the fact that she is very good at convincing
people of doing what she wants, I have nothing lined up for when this patio job
goes away for the winter. Speaking of
being freakishly good as a sales person, this girl was also able to convince
one of the workers at the storage facility to tamper with the contract and take
me off as a primary – making it impossible for me to get in there to get my
stuff out. When I think of how it would
have gone if I would have tried to do such a thing – it’s amazing that not only
did she think to do such a thing, but she was actually able to pull it
off. Keep in mind, though, I would have
never thought to do such a thing.
So, I have two, maybe three months to land something for
the winter, but 50+ years of firsthand experience tells me it’s not going to
happen. It appears the older I get, the
more the forces of nature have a vendetta against me, and let me tell you, I’m no
match for the forces of nature – especially since I never see them coming, and
wouldn’t be able to do anything about it anyway. Besides my promise that I would check out
should I be forced to live in the street, I also promised me that I would not
put my life in somebody else’s hands ever again – and I always keep my
promises. There is one guy who has been
working on me to get me to do just that, again, not gonna do it.
I could go into “Nobody cares”, and it’s true, but that’s
not exclusive to me, it’s the way of the world.
I do, though, see many obnoxious, belligerent, and even downright evil
people do what they do, and still have people who care about them – but that’s
a whole ‘nother – maybe for another time.
I’ve written similar things in my blog before now – for years,
in fact, and I’ve been linking to them at Twitter and at Facebook. Not a single person has acknowledged what I’ve
written, not a single person has shown any concern, which tells me that either
they are not reading the stuff, or they are and don’t care – either way I
cringe at how apathetic so many people actually are – in spite of their vociferous
self proclamations.
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
Missing Callie, And Tired Beyond Belief...
This is Callie
Those sad eyes are because I'm not there with her.
I’m sitting here in my motel room, where I’ve been living for the past five weeks. Yesterday my work got rained out – this is the third time just in the first month of being here, which means I’ve lost just about $800 in income – and that’s JUST IN THE FIRST MONTH OF BEING HERE. I’ve heard people who have been here in Lake Tahoe 20 and 30 years, who have said they have NEVER seen it like this – the constant rain, thunder, and lightning. Well, to be more specific, it has done that shit mostly on MY nights of work – but still, it’s never been like this as far as what I’ve been told. Last night, after watching TV for the first time since moving here, I was reminded of Callie, my cat - who I love more than I ever loved any stupid human. Callie was severely abused for the first year of her life, and I was the sole person who made her feel welcome and loved – I spent hours and hours talking to her when we (me and the ex) first got her. After two months or so, she quit hiding under the beds, her sad eyes didn’t look so sad anymore, and she loved being on and around me. The first time she jumped up on my lap and looked up at me as if to say, “Is it ok that I be here?”, just about took me down – and I’m not a cryer. I said, “Of course it’s ok you be here, you stay here as long as you want, ok?”. She did that every night for the rest of the time we lived at that apartment – six months or so. We moved to the RV, where there was really no way for her to do that, but I did other things with her then. I’m the one who spent time with her, taking her outside in the evenings (she didn’t like being outside during the day), and I was the one who loved talking to her for hours a day when she was deathly afraid of humans, and of life, I was the one who made her feel welcome and loved. Not only is she the most unassuming, non demanding, and well behaved cat I’ve ever known, but she is magnificent, freakishly fast and agile, even her walk is different. Callie cannot be with me because of things far beyond my control. For one, the ex would never, in a million years, allow me to have her, and, even if she did, I don’t know what’s going to happen with me. If things don’t change awfully quick, I will be out of work and out of a place to live inside of three months, if that; and should that happen, I made the promise to me that I would cut an artery and be done with it. I’ve been homeless twice, and I will not put up with that again – I’ve put up with way too much already. I’m not going to put Callie out to fend for herself just because shit happens to me; at least where she’s at, she has food and a warm place to sleep. The ex doesn’t really have time for her, with another cat, and a dog – the dog taking up most of her attention. I don’t fear that the ex will abuse Callie, my worst fear is that she will give her back to the shelter, where she could end up with somebody who does abuse her, or neglect her – or, with somebody who is not me. Nobody would love Callie like I do.
I have spent most of my adult life doing music, not only
doing the necessary things to seriously do that for a living, but also doing
without things such as the family life, house, cars, financial stability, and
whatever else, and I was happy to because I knew music was what I lived for, it’s
what I had to offer the world. I did
everything right, I worked at it, I got decent at it, I took calculated risks, and
some reckless risks. I’ve never done a
drug in my life, never smoked, never was a drinker, gambler, or anything of the
kind. I’m almost 60 years old, and I’m
about to lose my ability to live indoors, my ability to earn an income – all because
of things I had and have no control over.
The fact is, if it were because of my own screwups, I could be ok with
that, but since it has always been because of things I had no control over, I
cannot be ok. I have been jerked around
all my life, and that hasn’t changed since moving up here. I have one place where I work, and that will
be going away soon – as soon as it’s too cold to be out there on that patio. Every other entertainment manager I’ve talked
to here has given me the classic bullshit stories, and classic runaround – and that’s
not to mention the ones who have hid from me like I was the black death. The calibre of music is the same here as in most
places – it’s horrid, which makes it even more difficult to listen to the
flaming bullshit that I constantly get fed by these entertainment managers.
The ex also has, among other things, my guitars and other
musical instruments, locked up in her storage and is refusing to allow me to
get in there to get them out. One guitar
I’ve had since 1982, the others five and six years, as well as two toeres, one
that I built myself, and the other built by a Tahitian guy – the thing is a
work of art, and was not cheap. There
are also scrapbooks with my life in them, a baseball glove that I had since I
was 17, my high school basketball and volleyball letters, and other personal
stuff. That being the case, though, if
it should come down to a choice between getting in storage and getting my
belongings out, or to where I could safely have Callie, I would take Callie in
a red hot second and not even look back or give it a second thought. The fact remains, though, that I’m here,
Callie is there, with not a damn thing I can do about it.
This is the kind of constant and endless thing that the
universe does, which is what has turned my attitude sour for most things. I’m amazed that I can still go onto a stage
and entertain people. There was a time,
though, that I couldn’t even do that – as recently as a few months ago. For the record, and for the smartasses of the
world, I blew past self pity and despair 20 years ago or more, these days I’m
at full blown disgust and hatred for most things.
So, I’m very close to being out of work, and out of a
place to live, my belongings locked up where I cannot get to them, I miss
Callie terribly, and there is not a goddam thing I can do about any of it; and
believe me, I have done everything humanly possible to have a decent life, to
avoid crappy people, to avoid crappy situations; but I continue to be a fucking
magnet for this stuff, and I’m pretty sure things aren’t going to magically
change now.
That’s all I have for now.
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
I Don't Have A Title For This One...
I like to say I don’t know how this happened, I don’t
know how my life ended up to be what it is, but the fact is that I DO know – I’ve
discussed that at length in other parts of my blog, so no need to go into again
here. If somebody would have come to me
when I was in my 20s and said, you’ll never get a fair shot at the music
business, that your way of making a living will be taken away at some point,
and you will be stifled beyond your wildest imagination, and that you would be
living with a girl who has no regard for your feelings, or your anything, that
you were going to be under lock and key, told what and what not to do, that you
would be sniped at and bossed around, with absolutely no recourse, that there
will not be a damn thing you can do about it, I would have laughed it off. Well, all that and then some has
happened. I know, all the way down to my
core, that I did everything right, I got good at something, I devoted my life
to it, I studied it the best I could, I learned to play TEN instruments – and not
just dabbled, I mean I can actually play them.
I gave without taking. I took
calculated risks, I treated people with respect – except when given a reason
not to. I’ve never done a drug in my
life, never smoked, never was a drinker or a gambler, and I didn’t go onto a
stage so that I could get free alcohol and chase girls. I took it seriously enough to do it right.
I know I’ve stated the following before in my blog –
probably more than a few times. I’m not
absolutely sure about any of the reasons, but what I do know is that I have
been stifled, and I have been singled out, targeted. I have had some of the most absurd situations
beat me over the head – against astronomical odds, and always in the way that
it would cause me to not have a shot at what I was going after – that includes
little league baseball, high school basketball, and music, well, and life.
I have had contempt tossed in my direction constantly and
endlessly – not sure about the reasons, but I’m sure I’m not inaccurate in this
observation. The bullying I endured as a
kid – was not from other kids, but from full grown adults – and continues to
this day, to this instant. On that, not
only do I have more people that I can count come at me with unwarranted
aggression and hostility – out there in public, but I get it right here where I
live. This person has no problem
bullying me, sniping at me, arguing with me, telling me what to do and what not
to do. She will not stand up against any
person out there in the world – including aunts, uncles, cousins,
acquaintances, and whoever else, the only person she will snipe at, argue with,
play the guilt game with, make demands on, and threaten, is me – the one person
who has no escape, no recourse. She has
absolutely no regard for me in any way. Oh
yeah, she pretends, and she denies like no person I’ve ever met, but again, no
regard for me. She counts pennies, she
controls the money, she decides what we will and will not do. She tells me what I can believe, what I can
think, what I can say, what musical acts I can like or dislike – and when I
dare to stand up for myself, holy hell, out come the smartass remarks, the
taunting, the threats, the bullying, the “Then you can just get the fuck out”,
and whatever else. She gloats, and she is arrogant and smug. She brought me here, not the place I wanted to go, but she's in charge, she knows it, and has no problem shoving that in my face every chance she gets. She has kept me here for 3-1/2 years, while I haven't worked a day in this town. I'm beginning to believe she likes it that way - she likes the control, and as I said, gloating, arrogant, smug. I have been working
my goddam ass off for four years, trying to get work, trying to contact music
related people, trying to get working in casinos, restaurants, bars, and I had
my ads out on sites such as Gig Salad and Gigmasters – with zero results. I put it under the heading of Hawaiian music –
which not many outside of Hawaii can do – same – nothing. I even applied for jobs outside of music, and
actually landed one. I just lost the job
up in Lake Tahoe, I liked it, I was there and she was here, only coming up to
see me every couple of weeks – meaning I wasn’t dealing with daily sniping and
other bullying. My headaches stopped –
keeping in mind that before I met this self serving ass, I never had a headache
in my life. Before heading up there, I
was completely burned out and disgusted with playing any instruments – and hadn’t
touched a guitar, or anything, for 8 or 9 months. After being in Tahoe for just over a week, my
enthusiasm for playing came back, I enjoyed playing again, and I spent time
doing just that. One of the things I was
able to do was play with nobody around – nobody to be offended that I was
living my life, that I was doing something they couldn’t, something that was
intruding on their life, intruding in their universe. I lost that job because of one sick,
vindictive lowlife who had it in for me – because she didn’t want to be
responsible for what she did, and because she wasn’t going to stand up to her
co-workers – the ones who went to bat for me, she was going to bully me, punish
me, the one who couldn’t fight back, for her bullshit. I should be used to that, being that it’s
been the story of my life.
At this point, I don’t have much hope or possibility of
getting out of this miserable situation – add to that the fact that I’ve been
doing everything humanly possible for the past few years – even before the past
3-1/2 years, to no avail. When I arrived
back in the U.S. from Peru in 2009, the economy had collapsed, and I haven’t
worked much since. Incidentally, Peru
was a huge lie – I was once again duped
by a very clever, persistent, and charming person – who, for the most part,
lied to and manipulated me in order to get full control of my life. When I was finally able to escape, I came
back to this huge mess of a life that is now the American condition. One thought that stays with me for most of
the day, every day is, if I thought this was going to be life indefinitely, if
I know for sure that I will never work again, that I will be controlled by this
sadistic, delusional person for much longer, I would cut my wrists this
minute. I don’t know how much more of
this abuse I can take before I fire back, and when I do, rather than face the
crooked laws land their minions, I’ll check out, that is a promise that I made
to me a while back. Oh, and I always
keep my promises.
The contempt I’ve been on the receiving end of since I
was a little kid, that has continued up until this minute, well, I seem to have
endured it, yes, it’s taken its toll on me, both physically and mentally, but I’ve
learned to live with it. But being under
control of this jack booted coward is beyond all, and I know I cannot continue
to live this way. So, I’ll see where my
last few efforts take me, if anywhere, and if they end up where all the rest of
my efforts have, and my quality of life gets to the point where I’ve just
goddam had enough, I will check out, and I won’t be sad about it.
That’s about all I have for now, little diary. Should that happen, my biggest grief will be
that Callie, the most loving, unassuming, and magnificent cat I’ve ever known,
who is so much like me, will have to stay here in this disgusting place, and
she’ll have to do that without me. I’m
sorry, Callie, but 59 years of this shit is just fucking enough already, and I
just can’t do it anymore. I love you
more than I ever loved any person, I hope you know that. If things should turn around, I’ll spend my
life taking care of you, and doing the best I know how to protect you and show
you that you’re loved, and welcome in the world – even though, other than me,
you’ve no way of knowing that.
All for now.
Saturday, May 30, 2015
Back To Burnout And Disgust
I spent a month up in Lake Tahoe, being a working
person. I worked at a State Park there,
I enjoyed it, I enjoyed most of the workers, well, all except for the one
workplace bully who didn’t want to be responsible for what she did, who wasn’t
going to stand her ground with her co-workers who went to bat for me, who
chose to punish and bully the one person who couldn’t fight back. I enjoyed the quiet, I even enjoyed living in
the little shack that had no plumbing (bathrooms and other facilities were
right across the parking lot). I enjoyed
the fact that I was earning a paycheck, and that it was only a matter of a
short time before I would have my own life back. It was a full time job, but even with that, I
managed to break out my guitar or banjo and play some. I was enjoying doing that more than I had in
years. I was in complete burnout and
disgust mode before I moved to the Lake.
I’m now back in Reno, where all the angry people are,
where all the noise is, where the grossly inept working people are. I’m about ¾ of the way back to total burnout
and disgust – and this is after being back here two weeks. I could be a pretentious ass and claim that
it doesn’t get to me, that I’m able to “let it go”, that I’m stronger than any
this or that – and other such horseshit.
I could pretend that I’m ok. Yes,
I get it that all the angries out there must live with their own self inflicted
stuff, yes, of course I get that, but it doesn’t change the fact that I
continue to be on the receiving end of their hostility, their vindictiveness,
their envy, their slander, and their simmering anger.
In what world should I be, by law, demanded to take crap from lowlifes
in the street, or lowlifes in the workplace, lowlifes in any and all public
places? The result of all of this is
that the thing I loved most, the thing I knew best, the thing I chose to do for
a living, the thing I knew was a good thing to offer to the universe, is now
all but gone. After getting tossed out
of what appeared to be a vacant parking lot yesterday, and after seeing the double
padlocked gate and the “No trespassing or else” sign where I was going a couple
times a week to play music, after having lost the job that would have paid for
the replacing of things that have been lost, stolen, sold, or given away over
the past few years – things that I need so that I can do decent recordings, and
make decent videos, here I am. At this particular
moment, I couldn’t bring myself to take any of my guitars or my banjo out of
the case, much less play them. I’m not arrogant
enough to claim that only I have control over what I do. This external crap has been taking its toll
on my all my life.
As I’ve said many times, I really don’t know where to go
from here. I’ve spend the past couple of
years trying to contact record labels, artist management companies, booking
agents, and other music business related people, and I continue to be blatantly
ignored. I’m pretty sure my music and my
abilities are decent. I play ten
instruments, and yes, I can actually play them.
My delivery is something that people have enjoyed – ever since I first
started in this business way back in the day.
I hit the notes when I sing, and my voice is listenable. I’m on the stage to give, not to take –
always – in other words, I’m not up there for people to tell my how wonderful I
am, I’m up there to give the only thing I know.
Add to all of that, it’s been decades of people doing their damedest to
stifle me in every way, and if you think that doesn’t get fucking old, think
again. So, now I’m burned out again, not
sure when I’ll feel like playing again.
This is where I am today.
People have been telling me to “Be patient” all my life, so how much
longer do I wait before I stumble across anything resembling fair or just, how
long before I be compensated for my hard work and abilities – as opposed to
either being stifled, or for some parasite to profit from what I do? As always, I have no answers.
All for now.
Friday, May 29, 2015
The Kid With The Goofy Grin And The Rifle Arm
Middle Row, Far Right
Again
today, I had the misfortune of being in the line of fire of still another
bullying lowlife. This one was in the form of a (kinda) female security
guard. I was in an empty parking lot, there’s a building there that I’d
never seen any car near, or any person in or near it. I was trying to
film (with my phone) a couple of music videos – playing guitar and singing.
When I first got there, a different security person came up and asked, “Can I
help you?”, I replied, “No, I don’t think so, I’m just going to make a couple
of videos”. The guy said, “Ok, no problem”. So, I kept doing what I
was doing. About an hour later, here comes this miniature security
person, puffs her chest, sneering, glares at me and spits up, “You need to move on”.
I can’t recite the whole exchange, but basically I told her what a pathetic
little ass she was, that if you have no life, and you hate yourself so much, I
guess this is what you do – go screw with other people. After some amount
of smartass from her, I managed to tell her to go fuck herself. It has
never mattered if I walked away, told the person to screw off, or if I ended up
belting somebody (I’ve had to do all three, and I don’t say any of this proudly
or ashamedly, just matter of fact), I always felt equally as bad afterward, for
two reasons. First, how is it that so many people hate themselves so much
(Psych 101), and have so much envy for other people – especially ones who are
going after something, or doing something worthwhile, that they first find a
weapon to hide behind, then look for people to beat over the head with their
bullshit. Second, and the worse of the two, how do I continue to be such
a magnet for these kinds of people. It goes back (as far back as I can
remember) to when I was eight years old, when step mom was so angry that I was
doing something (ever how small it was), that she went outside and pulled up my
corn plants. I was eight, I planted the corn, I ran home from school
every day to weed and water – did it for months, my corn was getting big (it
looked big to me – but I was a little kid). I would sit there with my
plants, sometimes for over an hour, trying to see if the plants would grow
while I was watching. So, one day I ran home from school, to find
my corn plants gone – having been dug up by the vindictive step mom. She
gave me some cockamamie reason why she just HAD to do it, but well…
From that, the contempt I seemed to incite came from the little league baseball
coaches, more teachers than not, the guys I hung around with at Kaimuki Park
from the time I was 12 up until 17, to the high school basketball coaches, to
the second batch of guys I hung around with just out of high school, to bosses
at the two transmission shops I worked at for the five years of my early adult
life, to people in the music business – including musicians, booking agents,
club managers, and even radio people – this has been going on for 35+ years –
right up until this very minute. There were a couple of periods where I
worked “regular” jobs – same – the bullying bosses. FTR, in school, in
jobs, and in music, I was always on time, never missed a day of school or work,
and I was proud to do the best job possible. The current “significant
other” – same B.S., using money as the weapon to hide behind. I wasn’t
bullied as a kid – by other kids, the only bullying I remember as a kid was
parents, teachers, little league coaches, etc., in other words, full grown
adults.
I
seem to get this much more often than most people. I don’t know if it’s
that I’m more sensitive to it, or more aware, or if my energy field moves in
the opposite direction of most people’s, or some other reason, all I know is,
I’ve always said that I would be more than ok if I got what the general population
got. I’m perfectly aware of what many people think of a person who thinks
this way, but well, being that I’m not here to get other people’s permission to
think what I think, I really don’t care.
I’m
not sure I could even describe the degree of contempt, hostility, and
aggression I experience just about every day of my life, you probably wouldn’t
believe me even if I were to describe the half of it. I never felt
welcome in the world, I guess I just learned to live with it. And same, I
say this in the most matter of fact way.
So,
just in the past two weeks, I managed to be on the receiving end of four of
them. The bullying boss – having lost my job after a month because she did not
want to be responsible for what she did – and felt the need to punish the guy
who couldn’t fight back. Shortly before that, it was the old man who
operated the backhoe, who took one look at me, and proceeded to tell me how
tough he was, how brave he was, how “successful” he was, how he liked to drink
all the time, and other such macho crap. I handled him the same way I
always do with guys like that – I proceed to tell them what a screwup and a
dimwit I am. A week ago, I found the gates to the railroad track area
where I was taking my guitar to play a couple times a week – the gates closed,
double padlocked, and the “NO TRESPASSING OR ELSE” sign in full view.
Before this, the place looked like it hadn’t been used or tended to in years,
maybe decades. Apparently, somebody was offended by me being there – even
though I never did anything disrespectful, never left anything for anybody to
clean up, left it just as I found it – always. I also never saw another
soul anywhere near the place. So, four pathetic little humans just in the
past two weeks – that’s not to mention the same throughout my whole life.
For
the record, there has never been a time when I stood up for mice elf, where I
didn’t pay big – as a result of something cowardly that some bullying lowlife
did. Even worse, more and more laws get put into place, in order to
protect lowlifes, to protect smartasses, to protect bullies. The Powers
That Be pretend otherwise, but look around you. Oregon has Measure 11.
The Righteous Right would have you believe that “It’s only for repeat
offenders” – well, bullshit, you punch out some punk in the street, and you can
easily end up in prison for SIXTY MONTHS, that’s FIVE YEARS. Do the
reasoning – punk in the street, five years in prison… and it’s only
getting worse.
I
have a picture of me with my first little league team, I was ten (this one
actually had a decent coach). I’m there, with my goofy grin and my rifle
arm. I’m still that kid, will be till I’m not here anymore. I like
that kid, I like that he still instinctively trusts, instinctively loves,
instinctively gives. On an intellectual level, different story, I've learned to mistrust and dislike most humans, but instinctively, well... My instinctive trust and all the rest, has rarely been a two way street, but I guess
somewhere in here, it doesn’t matter all that much.
I don’t know where I go from
here, and I guess that’s all I have to say for now.
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