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.

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.