Saturday, November 18, 2017

The Continued Human Infestation

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.

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.