Just Some Meandering, I Guess...

I was sure that yesterday was going to be the last for me.  Funny thing, something happened that worked in my favor (if you want to look at it that way), and it looks like I have food for another couple of weeks.  I was surprised, but well, here I am.  With all that has been going on the past few years, I ask again, how is it that I could have come all this way musically, only to end up doing nothing with it?  I know I wouldn’t be the only one in history, but I still wonder.  I wonder it in a broad way, also, not just in one direction.  I’ll have to explain that better – but another time.

I’m still in the middle of working on my CD, I haven’t had as much time as I would have liked, but I’m making progress.  I don’t know what good it will do, the plan it so present it to a particular record company, and any others that I may hear about as I go.  It stands to reason that I’ll get more attention with a straight ahead country and bluegrass album.  And I mean traditional, nothing progressive or eclectic.  I also played today at a Wellness and Healing Expo at the Convention Center today, not a paying gig (I really hate that word, but well…).  I’ve been doing those lately – back to square one – trying to get people to hear me.  30 years of working my rear end off, only to end up living like this – kinda turns my stomach.  It’s not that it’s so horrible here, but I should have some amount of financial freedom by now, and, I would think that my hard work and abilities would pay off at least to some small degree.  This is a nasty business – I often say I wish I would have known that going in, but then I don’t know what I could have done differently if I had.  I do see, though, some people doing their damnedest to fight Big Music and their bullshit, but I know it will be a slow process.  I’ve already been seeing signs that Big Music is scared, they’re starting to fight extra dirty against the little guys who are trying to gain recognition, and a position in the business, not only for themselves, but for artists who have been ignored and stifled, in spite of what abilities they may have.  I’m staying as close to those people as I can, and I’ve offered my help – whatever little help I may be.

So, things are touch and go, still not out of the woods, as they say.  All I can do is live day to day.  If it should ever happen that I get a record label to sign me, or should I get on some kind of national tour of small venues, great, but if not, well, then not.

You know what one of the things I would enjoy the most should ever I get out of this poverty B.S. – it would be SO great to not have to put up with people wagging their finger in my face, telling me what I should and shouldn’t do – that would probably be the thing I would enjoy most.  Second would be using my money for good – while thumbing my nose at the money mongering investment crowd – nothing would bring me more satisfaction than to tell those f’n parasites where to stick it.

All for now.

My Friend, Keith...

Tonight I wanted to talk about Keith, he’s the older guy who is the maintenance man here at the Wildflower.  He’s 72, not in such good health, he has, among other things, emphysema.  He doesn’t have health care because as with so many people in this money based society, he cannot afford it.  He’s a great guy – I couldn’t ask for a better co-worker.  He’s always cheerful, never snippy or angry, he’s precise and thorough when he gives me instructions, and he never gives off the vibe that I’m in his way, that I’m bothering him, or that I’m stupid.  He knows his stuff, but arrogance doesn’t exist anywhere in his being.  He barely squeaks by on his paycheck, he barely has enough to eat, and, he has a supply of ramen for when he’s out of food.  Keith is all alone – I haven’t heard about any friends, he has no girlfriend or wife, seemingly nobody who actually cares about him.  I find this sad beyond belief.  I help Keith as much as I can, in any way I can, but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough, and I don’t know what else to do.

I guess this is just another thing that causes me to hate the world so much.  He’s only 12 years older than I am.  I’m about a half inch away from being homeless, and from running out of food.  I don't have a phone, either - not that I need one.  I have no family to speak of, and nobody who really cares about me - but believe it or not, I'm ok with all of that - not the almost most homeless or almost out of food part - but everything else.  I’ve already done my usual with at least one of the people here – I somehow caused her to have some degree of dislike for me – and I’ve only been here a little over three weeks.  I’ve known for quite a while that I’m not the most likeable guy, but well, the degree, and the uncanny ability to incite such dislike, and even contempt – is amazing, even to me.  Keith is not the usual kind of person, and he seems to be just fine with me.  I also don’t seem to have that problem with animals.  On that, I’ve befriended the little cat that lives here – she still won’t come all the way up to me – about three feet is about as close as she’ll get – as opposed to when I first started seeing her, where she’d run whenever I was anywhere in her sight.  Anyway, I’ve always said that I don’t care that most people don’t like me, I only care that the genuine, the completely honest, and the ones who possess real integrity find me worthy of their respect.  I tell you, there aren’t many people out there who are worthy of MY respect, as I’ve said many times here, most people cause me great disgust.  When I say “Completely honest”, “Genuine”, and “Those who possess real integrity”, I mean those who have these traits all the way down to their core.  It means that while they may not steal an old woman’s purse, when it comes to their personal integrity – are they honest about what they believe, what they feel, and do they live what they proclaim?  Most people don’t, I’ve heard, more times than I can begin to count, people pointing fingers at me, or exclaiming some cliché that they stumbled across, and in the same breath, contradict it, both verbally and in action.  Example:  I’ve had many a finger wagged in my face in anger at something I supposedly did or said, right after they just got done telling me I shouldn’t take anything personally, and that I shouldn’t react to anything other people do.  Ah well, my ass backward energy field at work once again – that, or most people’s unending bullshit – either way, I always seem to be the one to pay for it all – my own, AND everybody else’s.

I won’t allow me to end up like Keith – and I don’t say that in any kind of condescending way.  He chooses to live – even with all he has to deal with – being in bad health, being destitute, and being alone, and that’s perfectly ok, because it’s his choice, and his choice alone.  Me, I’ll be dust in the ground long before I let the universe deal me any more bullshit.  I have thoughts at this moment about checking the hell out of here – not strong ones, but they’re there.  I have a couple of things in the works as I write this, if they don’t pan out within a reasonable amount of time, it just might be the end of my journey in this horribly sadistic place.

I’ll leave it there for now, little diary, and I’ll probably talk to you again soon.

For The Sad Little Cat Here, and Missing Callie...

 

Hi Callie, I miss you. 

I’m still here, things are not as bad as I expected, in fact, I’m doing fairly well so far in my new home.  I don’t know how long that will last, but for now, things are ok.

A couple of weeks ago, the management here told me I needed to get some kittens to the Humane Society, they were from a cat that has been here a while.  These kittens were less than three weeks old, but if they would have been here much longer, it would have been impossible to catch them.  I hated taking those babies from their mom, but I was told to do it, so I had to do it.  The mother cat is little, she’s full grown, and has been here for quite a while from what I understand, and she’s had a few litters of kittens.  She is beyond smart, not only has she survived here for all this time, but she outsmarted the traps that were set to catch her, so she could also go to the Humane Society.  This particular place has a “No kill” policy, so I think any cat or kitten that ends up there would be ok.  Anyway, I’ve been trying to befriend this mother cat.  She roams around the whole day, I guess looking for food, she doesn’t look undernourished or beat up.  She’s been coming closer and closer to me, like she wants to come up to me, but she’s afraid of humans – stupid goddam humans who, I’m sure, have tried to hurt or kill her.  She was right outside my door when I went outside to get some fresh air, and she didn’t run, so she’s not as afraid of me as she is, I’m sure, of most people.  She looks so lonely and sad, maybe it’s my imagination, but she does, I wish she could know that I would never hurt her.  There are a couple of other cats here, but for some reason, I favor this one – maybe because of her sad, lonely demeanor – I relate to that, I guess.  A little while ago, I was outside, and she was crouched about 20 feet away from me, while I talked to her – I was out there for a good 20 minutes or so, and she didn’t go anywhere until I had to come back inside.  I realize I cannot keep a cat – for one thing, it’s against the rules here, and, my lifestyle doesn’t allow me to have animals – much as I love them.  I would still like to get her where she would spend time with me while I am here.

I’m still sad because I had to leave Callie.  Callie is the best cat I’ve ever known – a special kind of “best”.  She is unassuming, non demanding, never gets into anything, and always seems to understand when I tell her something.  There were the times when I’d get on my computer at night – she liked to jump up and lay on my lap while I’m watching TV, but when I’m on the computer, it’s too hard on my back to sit in one position for more than a few minutes.  So, I would tell her, “Ok Callie, you have to sit on my chair (the recliner) while I do my work, ok, I’ll come back here and be with you then”.  Well, she would stay right there, sleep on the recliner until I got done on the computer, I’d pick her up and put her on my lap, and she’s sleep there.  It seemed that was her safe, comfortable place.  Sometimes at night, I would open the patio doors to let Molly – the other cat – out because she is so much an outdoor cat.  Callie would go out and sit on the ledge, just sit or crouch there for quite a while – just watching things go by, not caring to chase anything.  Sometimes she would jump down on the outside, look around the immediate area, then come right back to her spot.  She is the most loving cat I ever knew.  As I said before, she was severely abused for the first year of her life, and for her to have turned out to be the way she did is nothing short of amazing.  I’ll always love her, I hope she knows that, but I guess I can’t assume anything.  I got ripped away from her as a result of things that were completely out of my control – as most things in this world are.

Yes, I’m feeling sad tonight after seeing the sad cat outside, and after thinking about Callie, and it brings to mind my wonder why the world is so sadistic.  I’m horrified at the amount of pain, suffering, and grief that is all around me.  I’ve said many times that I ended up here by some massive mistake – I honestly don’t belong here.  Fairly recently I came to not take my own life so seriously, meaning that should my quality of life deteriorate to the point where it doesn’t suit me, I’ll check out on my own terms, and I won’t be sad about it.  Actually, my quality of life has never suited me, but I guess my thought is that if it gets worse, should things go sour here, should I run out of food, or should I end up headed to live in the street, that will be that, no more.  I don’t think this is from depression, I think it’s just that I’m tired, and disgusted at all the grief in the world, I detest the fact that the mean, ruthless people seem to live an easy life, while decent people struggle their whole lives, losing most of what they earn – and I’m no exception to that.  Then there’s the animal kingdom – much of which saddens me beyond belief.  Humans are annihilating them, we keep them in zoos, people kill them for no real reason other than greed, and some just for some kind of sick pleasure - and that ain't the half of it.  I can’t even afford to feed this cat here, being that I’m about a half an inch away from living on the street mice elf.  I did get her some food earlier, though, because she looked so sad, and because I can't look at a hungry animal and be ok.  I hope I can catch her, take her to the Humane Society so she can get spayed, that way there won't be any more hungry, homeless cats or kittens running around here.  I really do hate this world, and when it’s time for me to go, I’ll be happy about it.  I know nobody will care, and I’m ok with that, being that I don’t care all that much for humans, either.  Funny, I love Callie more than I ever loved any human.  Not because I’m some kind of animal pervert, but because most humans disgust me.  There are, of course, a few exceptions, but not very damn many.  While every single human I cared about has lashed out at me – more often than not – many times, Callie has never done that, always wanting to be near me or on me – feeling safe and welcome there.  I know that before she met me, she never felt welcome in the world, she spent all of her time thinking, "Please don't hurt me again".  I guess I never felt welcome here in this world, either, and surprisingly enough, I’m ok with that, too, but I always felt welcome with that little cat.

Ok, I guess that’s all for tonight.  I so wish I could see Callie, hold her, tell her that I love her, but as with most things in this sorry world, not gonna happen.

Well, Dear Diary...

...this might actually be one of the last times you’ll hear from me.  After three years of being at the hands of an abusive, narcissistic woman, she finally pushed me past my breaking point.  She pushed and pushed and pushed.  There was no damage, luckily I caught myself before I really did anything.  I guess it’s lucky that I didn’t start punching - she would have deserved it - being the vindictive, bullying, smart mouthed thing that she is.  I saw the satisfaction in her voice and in her body language when she screamed, “YOU’RE OUTTA HERE!!!”.  Yes, I was outta there, but not because she said so, I was out of there because I won’t be with a person who not only has the ability, but the intention – of pushing me to that point.  Not only that, but she has been trying to push me to that point for three years.  Any other guy would have beat the daylights out of her three years ago.  She knew I had no way out, and boy did she ever enjoy the control, the smartass, and the bullying.  She knew what smartass did to me, she knew my history, and that’s why she did it, it was her favorite weapon, and her way of punishing me for whatever garbage was in her head.  So, no more smartass directed at me, no more threats, no more listening to the endless sniping and disrespect, and no more bullying – on any front.

So, now I’m here at a place where I’m not sure what will happen.  The owner of this complex pretty much found me on her doorstep, and offered help.  She’s not made of money, either, so it’s not like I’m rescued, and I’m damn sure not out of the woods.  I may run out of food in 3 or 4 days.  If by some miracle that doesn’t happen, I don’t know what will happen beyond that.  I’m sure I won’t be able to pull off something that I haven’t been able to in the two miserable years I’ve been in this horrible town – I haven’t worked a day since I got here, and damn, magically I’ll get work – not likely.  That’s not to say I won’t try, I’ll do everything I can, but in my experience, when I’m in a race against the clock, I lose every time.

I know I’ve said this a few times over the years, but here it is again, I am damn tired of being kicked around by the forces of the universe, and whatever else has been going on.  It’s not “Poor me”, or, “Why me?”, I’m just goddam tired of fighting – fighting while I don’t even know what the hell I’m fighting against.  Nobody will ever convince me that my life has just been the natural order of things, it is beyond obvious that somebody, or a group of somebodies – somebodies who have a lot of power – have made all these bizarre things happen.  Shit like what has happened in my life doesn’t just happen by chance – sorry, ain’t buyin’ it.

I won’t be going back to the narcissistic, vindictive woman.  All this being said, I find myself being just a little excited about this new adventure, but, I’m also not past being goddam tired of fighting.  So, should this episode go sour, I will be checking out – for good.  I’m no kid, I don’t have my whole life in front of me, and I don’t have the stamina or the enthusiasm that goes along with youth.  I may go from excited to screw it in a few days, and again, if that should happen, I will say aloha nui loa, and head out.  I don’t expect anybody to take care of me, but what I do expect is for the Powers That Be to leave me alone so I can work, get my life back, have my own little space to live my little life.  I don’t see that magically happening, either, so it seems likely to me that this is about the end of the road for me.  I don’t see life the way most people do, I don’t value it (referring to my own) all that much, it’s like any other trip I would take, I take the trip, and when I’m done, I’m done.  I’ve also said this before – I’m not sad about it, it’s just that if my quality of life continues to deescalate, it’s time to end the voyage.

Couple of closing statements:  One, I would have been happy to have moved to San Diego – which was the topic of discussion when all this bullshit hit the fan, because I’m sure I could have found steady work there, and who knows what else.  It’s not possible to convince a negative person – a person who will always look for reasons to NOT do something, as opposed to me, who has always look for reasons TO do something.  No matter how good something may look, if the person is angry and resentful, and doesn’t want to look at the possibility of good results, there’s no convincing them.  And people want me to believe that I’M the negative one.  Most of my excursions in life have not panned out – which takes me back to what I said before – things don’t just happen, they are made to happen; but I took risks, I gave up lots of things, lots of luxuries, lots of comforts, lots of things I would have liked to have, but well, here I am, having been deprived of it, and having lost what little did have – taking all those risks with no good result.  If a risky situation should be presented to me now, I’d still do it, mostly because that’s who I am.  I’m not thinking that that’s a possibility at this point, just stating that to make a point.

The second of my closing statements is, $3000+ a month for living expenses, my ass.  I wasn’t the one who was in control of the money, and, on top of that, I’m not the one with the filthy, expensive cigarette habit, or any habit, and I suspect online video gaming played a part in this – and NOT by me.  Whatever the case, I’m not buyin’ it that it can cost over three goddam thousand dollars a month for living expenses.

So, dear diary, I may or may not see you again.  If so, good, if not, maybe I’ll see you in the next rearrangement of them nasty little atoms.  Callie, I miss you terribly, and I love you more than I have any human, I hope on some level you know that, and, I hope you know I didn’t leave you by my own choice.

If I Should Die Before I Live...

Callie upchucked this morning.  As some of us know, animals know and sense things that humans can’t.  Last night, in my own horrid personal life, something happened, something unpretty.  The trigger was something really stupid - I was playing music at my usual Saturday night place, and a certain person – who thinks she knows better, that she is in charge of every goddam thing I do, and who thinks that her opinion and/or beliefs are the only ones that are valid, came up and started telling me how I should do my fucking job.  I don’t go down to McDonald’s and tell anybody how to cook their hamburgers, so what makes people think they should come into where I work and tell me how to play my music – especially somebody who doesn’t know the first goddam thing about music???  Anyway, as I always do, I shut my mouth – being perfectly aware of consequences of defending my own honor, or saying anything that the bullying warden does not approve of.  A little while later, she says, “Tomorrow we need to have a talk”.  Ok, so I know what that means – it means more threats, more smartass, more denials, more turnabout, more bullying.

Any person who has kept up with my blog here knows that I’ve spent my whole life being screwed with, lied to, exploited, taken advantage of, and bullied to beat hell.  I’m not talking about the kind of bullying that we hear about in schools, I’m talking about the bullying father, the workplace bully, the road rage bugeyed lowlifes out there in the streets who tailgate, racing around endangering other people’s lives, and other such adult type punks – and they come in the shape of male and female organisms.  I’m talking about people who claim to want to help, but really only want something for themselves – many times just a punching bag to take out their aggressions – aggressions that they would never direct at anyone who might be able to fight back – anybody who they don’t have something on.  What does this chicken shit have on me – I’ve been out of work for 2-1/2 years – and not by my own doing.  The money mongers will think I deserve what I get, while people who have any real insight on life will understand, and will be as appalled as I am – not only at my own personal plight, but at all similar B.S.

So, after the “We need to have a talk”, I got to thinking about my life – about the fact that I’m beyond sick and tired of being screwed with, of being stifled by people who, being the flaming cowards that they are, will never show their faces, while they play their little chicken shit game.  I got to thinking that my life is even worse now than it was ten years ago, and twenty years ago.  I fought with severe clinical depression for about ten years there, and it seemed to be dissipating somewhat, and it doesn’t feel like depression is setting in, this is just disgust and being tired.  I got to thinking that I don’t see any light at the end of any tunnel, in fact, I don’t even see a tunnel, just mostly darkness and bullshit – and angry, vindictive people.  All that in mind, I decided that when we had “The talk”, which was code for “I need somebody to beat up on right now, and you’re it”, that I would say my piece, maybe more, then cut the inside of my bicep open – where that big artery is, and bleed out in less than a minute.  This comes from a guy who doesn’t anymore take his own life all that seriously – the biological part – where most people say it’s so valuable and should be preserved at all costs.  Well, I don’t buy it, in my mind, when I’m gone, nobody will care, and in a thousand years, nobody will know about, or care about anything any person here now does.  I’ve always done good things, not because I was afraid of burning in some imaginary hell, or because I thought I’d be rewarded – I do good things because I want to, because I think it’s the right thing to do – and that hasn’t changed.  So, I had decided that I was done with this horrid place.  After all this, the dictator decided she didn't want to have "The talk" after all.  This takes me to a whole 'nother subject, which I won't get into now, but I found it bizarre and astronomically unlikely that this would have happened.

Getting back to Callie, I’ve had cats before, but I was never all that close to them, I liked them, and I cared about them, but they did their thing and I did mine – and they seemed to be ok with that.  Callie is different; she was severely abused for the first year of her life, and also starved within inches of her life when she came into my world.  While she hid under beds and dressers for the first 2 or 3 weeks, I would spend time talking softly to her, telling her it’s ok, and that nobody was going to hurt her.  I put food as close to her as I could get.  I even managed to pet her a few times.  Fast forward ten months, and she’s a happy cat – loving, non aggressive, playful, never gets into anything she’s not supposed to, non demanding, and unassuming.  Her favorite place to be is on my lap.  She doesn’t cower or duck anymore when I reach out to pet her.  She always has enough to eat, and she’s always welcome to be on or near me, and she knows that without any doubt.  Last night, I told her that I loved her, and that I was so sorry that things got to the point that they were, and that I would see her soon.  She stayed on my lap for the rest of the time until I went to bed – and she seemed kinda down.  I would almost bet my life that the reason she lost her dinner was because she knew something bad was about to happen, that she was about to lose somebody she loved and depended on.  I love this cat more than I’ve ever loved any human – and I’m so not kidding about that.  I know, some might think that’s creepy, but it’s really not, I love her for being the loving, unassuming being that she is – that’s a whole lot more than I can say for any person I’ve ever known.  People are so goddam angry and vindictive, and jealous, and controlling, and selfish.  This cat is none of those things.  If I’d met a girl who had those virtues, and who wasn’t so goddam angry, I would have happily spent my life with her, but well, that hasn’t happened, and I’m sure it’s not gonna.  I’m actually ok with that, in the way that I accept it as reality, not that I like it, but it is what it is, as they say.  When the time does come for me to check out of this disgusting place, I won’t really feel sorry for any person – for leaving any person here, but I will feel horrible for leaving Callie.  I don’t know how she’ll do without me.  Thing is, I hate this place, I always have, and I generally hate people – being that most of what I get from them is their hostility, and their shunning – a few exceptions, of course, but I’ve never really felt totally trusting with any person – and the few times I did let my guard down, three guesses….

I think Callie is afraid of most people – as she should be.  I wish things were just a little different, that I could stay here for her – and let me tell you, there is nothing else I can think of that I would want to stay in this shithole of a world for.  But, I’ve really had it.

I’m not going anywhere today, and probably not tomorrow, but I’m sure “The talk” will happen soon.

One thing I need to add is, anyone who might be reading this, I’m asking that you don’t step in – in the way of the law.  Last time I told ONE person about my plan to end this ridiculous B.S., and next thing I know, the cops are banging at my door – to take me to the Psych Ward – where I spent two miserable weeks.  I don’t need psychiatric interference, I don’t some idiot therapist showing me phony concern, telling me stories about how I should take control of my life, and how I should value life itself – because again, I don’t buy it.  I should be able to check out on my own terms, and nobody has the right to dictate to me that I can’t do that – it’s MY life, and it’s up to ME what I do with it.

So, I’m happy to say that I have a little more time to be there for Callie, but I believe I’m already on borrowed time.

Beating The Not So Dead Horse...

Well, the saga continues.  I’ve said a few times that I believe somebody is deathly afraid of me – afraid enough that they have sent highly trained people to make sure I never break out of the poverty level, and, that I never find my way to a bigger platform to speak from.  I’ve also said that I never saw me as any threat to anybody, but it’s beyond obvious that somebody sure does.

Ok, here’s the latest.  This, is on top of the countless other times that proved the quote, “Things do not just happen, they are made to happen”.  About three weeks ago, I auditioned at the Casino, “Boomtown”.  There is the “Guitar Bar” located inside.  I called there, and the current entertainment director told me to audition a couple days later, which I did.  Backpedalling just a little, I called the previous entertainment director (Katie) a few months earlier, only to get the classic runaround.  Ok, so, I do the audition, along with two other acts.  She approaches me (and not the other two – in fact, one guitar player looked like he said something nasty to the entertainment person) after my three songs and says, “We’re gonna get you in here, I’ll send you the email with the W-9, and the dates I have open, I’ll call you next week”.  She never did call, but that’s pretty much par for the course.  So, I waited two weeks and went down to the casino, at which time she did come down and briefly talk to me, she says, “Send me an email to this address and I’ll send you the W-9 and the open dates”.  So, I went home and immediately sent her the email.  She replies back with at attached W-9, but no list of open dates.  I wait two more days, and I email her, asking if she’d forgotten about me.  She replies now, with the classic runaround, “I haven’t done anything with the Guitar Bar”, and, “I’m booked through the end of October, and mostly through the end of the year”.  This is after she originally said she was booked partway through October, then the next time all the way through October, now mostly through the end of the year (“I haven’t done anything with the Guitar Bar” – which is it?).  I would almost bet my life that I will never set foot on the stage in the Guitar Bar, I recognize the classic runaround when I see it.  My question is, why would she approach me, and not the other two acts at the audition, tell me about the W-9 and the open dates list, send me the W-9, then suddenly do an about face and start with the runaround?  Easy answer – somebody got to her.  For the first year and a half in this town, after countless efforts to contact the entertainment staff at the various casinos to no avail, I figured that maybe I was on some master shit list – it wasn’t hard to fathom that all the entertainment people and the local booking agents would talk to each other.  After this, I’m not sure if it’s just the local Good Ol’ Boy network doing what it does, or if this crap is coming from higher up.  I ran into a similar set of circumstances when I was in Oregon for the couple years I spent there – just before moving here to Reno.  I figured it was the insanely jealous musician – Al Morales – who I believed was defaming me to the various entertainment people, and I’m sure  it was, but it was strange that every one of them just automatically believed what he said, without asking me, just blatantly cutting off any and all communication – which seemed to be doing just fine before Al did whatever he did – and I’m not convinced that he didn’t do and say something.  It makes sense that this stuff has been coming all along – from much higher up – on top of what the Al Morales’ of the world do.  Keep in mind, this is not new, this is something that has been going on for most of my life – and looking back, it looks even more fishy than any of the situations did at the time.  And I’m talking about going all the way back to when I was 8 years old (that I’m aware of).

As I said before, it makes the most sense that this has something to do with my dad, who is gone now, but was an activist of sorts.  He started out in the 50s as a disc jockey – spinning records, then in the 80s, started doing talk radio – first sports, then politics, social issues, current events, etc.  He was very controversial, in fact, all the radio station owners in the state of Hawaii were deathly afraid that they were going to be sued because my dad was surely going to say something to offend the wrong people.  Well, my dad knew the laws, the main part being that you cannot be sued as long as there is proof of your allegations.  He was on the receiving end of many death threats, he had callers who berated him, and he was fired from every station he worked for, in spite of the fact that he always had among the highest ratings – and there were quite a few stations that he'd worked for.  He not only interviewed celebrities, but he also had, right there on the air – mercenaries, military commanders, hit men, and other such people that we normal folks never hear about.  This was before the internet, he would receive letters from people who supported his allegations with undeniable proof, and information that would cause most people’s heads to explode.  My dad spent the last fifteen years of his life mostly in seclusion, not by choice, more by the control and demand of the girlfriend he had the misfortune of being with.  He had worn out all chances of working at any radio station long before, so I guess he just finally gave up.  He died being just eight years older than I am now.

I’m not ready to throw up my hands just yet.  Yes, I’m tired, and I’m disgusted, but that motivates me even more to want to get somewhere in this horrid music business.  I’m not sure what I would do as far as being any kind of activist – I pretty much burned out on that about five years ago, I figured I’ll leave it up to the youngsters to do the fighting.  As for whoever it is that has been seeing to it that I never climb out of this gaping hole that I’ve been in for most of my life, I’ve called them out many times, but they continue to hide in the bushes while they play their little chicken shit game.  I don’t know what they think I’m going to do, and there is even the possibility that some kind of agreement might likely be reached, but that will never happen as long as they continue to hide.  I cannot think of anything more cowardly.

I don’t have answers, just observations – lots and lots of creepy, bizarre observations. I believe there is no chance of my working here in Reno, maybe anywhere.  I continue to try to find other avenues for income, other avenues to get my music out to the masses, but I don’t see any light at the end of any tunnel just yet, in fact, I can’t even see the tunnel, just mostly darkness, shadows, and bullshit.

Story Of My Life

This is the guy who has been stifled for the most part of 30 years :O

I always say that it’s not a good thing to bullshit people – and I live by that, not because I’m afraid of some firey hell, or that I think I’ll be rewarded somehow, I stay honest because it’s what I want to do.  The only exception to that is when my life or my safety depends on it – and when I do find myself in such a situation, I do all I can to get away from it, so I can live my life my own way, without having to answer to any wardens or gatekeepers.  I’ve had wardens and gatekeepers for most of my life, seems to be the story of my life, something I’ve never understood.  Most of the time, getting out takes much longer than I would like, and I usually go from one crappy situation to another, but still…

In the spirit of being honest, I’ll once again state things as I see them, and not how I would like them to be – or even worse – how other people would like them to be.

In 1980, I played my first professional music job – otherwise known as the “gig”.  I learned things, how to play, how not to play, how to sing, learned to play ten instruments, and to play them well.  I learned how to be in front of an audience, how to communicate with them, read them, give them something that will make them feel, and I think I've accomplished these things - better than most.

In pretty much all businesses, a person will experience good, bad, and everything in between.  He will put up with bullying bosses, useless workmates, angry customers, and less than pleasant working conditions – all par for the course.  In my business, at least for me, I can’t decide which is worse, the people in power and their pathetic, egotistical bullshit, or the listening audience – namely the angry, resentful sourpusses who would do anything to take a person down.  I’ve been on the receiving end of some of the most vicious acts of vindictiveness and jealousy that you could imagine – and then some – again, par for the course.  I’ve been on the receiving end of foaming at the mouth wrath from venue owners and upper management – again, par for the course – especially being that I’m somewhat decent at what I do – the more you threaten their tiny, dysfunctional body parts, the more and bigger sticks they will try to beat you with.  I’m not convinced that I’m not on some master shit list here in Reno, and maybe even on a national level, because come on, I’m no bar act – I know, fathead, sorry, but I’m not going to water this down – the shit just is what it is – as they say.

I’ve seen people who would not recognize talent if it came down in the form of an asteroid and blasted them into outer space – if some guru, or some slick advertising trick didn’t brainwash them into believing this or that.  There’s Joshua Bell in the subway station, there are the street musicians who more often than not don’t even get a second look – no matter how amazingly talented they are.  One of the things I’ve noticed along those lines – in my own musical journey, is the way so many people will treat me with such gross disrespect.  They will come in with their sour face, see other people having a good time, and the first thing they want to do is complain about the volume – being that that’s an easy target, and they know that most managements and owners will not hesitate to pass this venom filled demand to the entertainment.  I did notice, though, that when I had the full bands, I didn’t get this much, if at all, most of it has been since I started doing the solo – it’s common knowledge that a bully will be more likely to screw with a smaller target than a bigger one – cowards that they are.  I’ve also experienced a few times, some dimwit will walk up to the stage and proceed to tell me how to play my music – “Do this song, do that song”, “Slow it down”, “Speed it up”.  I lifted a great answer for that, which I used on the few occasions – “Eh, I don’t come down to McDonald’s and tell you how to cook your hamburgers, so don’t come in here and tell me how to play my music”.  Works every time - thanks for that, Freddy Morris.  As if that’s not enough, I have somebody who claims to care about me, who treats me with the same disrespect – “It’s too loud”, “Play this song, play that song”.  AND, the latest, I went to a casino to try to get in touch with the entertainment coordinator who said she would call, and didn’t, and this person just HAD to come along, AND, when the entertainment person came down to see me, this shadow walked right up to the counter with me – observing every word that was exchanged, then added her own.  Had the entertainment person showed up with her husband or boyfriend hovering, I would have wondered what the hell his problem was – and I’m guessing she was probably thinking the same thing.  It annoys me beyond anything I can think of, that a person who has never been in the business, who has no musical background, has never dealt with a venue manager, owner, or booking agent of any kind, thinks she should tell me what I should do, how I should do it, and who I should do it with – that’s not to mention this is the case not only with music, but all the way across the board in my current life (that's a whole 'nother).  It’s not bad enough that the people in power in this horrid business have stifled me in every way possible, and not bad enough that the economic state of affairs in the world are what they are, but now I have to be talked down to, dictated to, instructed on how to do MY job by a person who has no f’n idea about the music business.  It’s as if most people think that not being signed by a major label makes me stupid, that being out of work for any length of time – makes me stupid.  Again, I get beat over the head with this crap in all areas of my life – by a person who should be on my team.  Once again, the current state of affairs has forced me to stay in a situation that has not been good for me.  I feel stifled in so many ways.  I don’t spend near enough time with my instruments – because I don’t want to listen to the thinly veiled snide remarks, or put up with the skulking around for weeks at a time, and if I dare stand up for mice elf – the bullying, the threats, the smartass, and whatever else.  I’m not allowed to pursue anything by going out to the venues – again, the thinly veiled bullshit.  I listened today, once again, to shitty remarks about money – as in, “I didn’t get any gas money from this or that” – which is actually more B.S., because when I was working, I did fill up the gas tank, I took the car to get washed, bought food, and even paid $500 to fix the heating and a/c system when it went down.  I’m also to understand that what I contribute to this “relationship” is worthless, since a monetary price tag cannot be put on it – how sad is THAT?  The disrespect, the hovering, the control, the jealousy that is violently denied, the sniping, the controlling of the money, the bullying, the threats – and this person cannot figure out why I can barely stand to be around her most of the time.  P.S.  I don't care all that much anymore about being loved, it's much more important to me that I be treated with respect.

It would be a good thing for me to get some kind of work, whether it be local work, regional national tours, or monies from royalties, before I get too old to do this anymore, or before all the numbskulls who have tried to take me down kick the bucket.  I want them to see that I kept at it, didn’t sell out, and didn’t let their vicious B.S. stop me.  This brings me to another point:  For whatever reasons, I have never been one to doubt me – in spite of the fact that most people in my life have been discouraging, envious, insulting, vicious, and vindictive.  I’ve always known what my abilities were – and are, nobody has ever been able to shake me on that.  I really don’t know why – it’s not that I’m some super hero with super powers, or some noble pillar of strength – quite the opposite, actually.

So, I continue to play my music – it’s all I know, it’s all I care to do.  There may come a time when I’ll come to a crossroads, where I’ll either have to cave in to society’s bullshit, and get a “real job”, or live on the streets – or, check out on my own terms.  P.S.  I will never cave in to society’s B.S., and I’m pretty sure I won’t allow the universe to put me back out into the street.  I wouldn’t be the first artist to end up broke and alone, going to his grave never having had a shot at a decent life.

I have no alternatives at the moment, all I have is that I continue to work on getting some kind of life of my own.  If it doesn't happen soon, well, I guess I don't know...