Stay High

I wrote “stay high” in one of my stoner girlfriends’ yearbooks in my Jr. year of high school. And she left her yearbook behind in class one day and the teacher opened it and started reading the comments.  So dude called my parents and said we needed to do a drug intervention with me, just because I told her to stay high.

I didn’t do drugs like those chicks.  They were way more mature and older than me.  I started school a year earlier than I should have so I was always with older kids in the same class and I witnessed things earlier than I should have.

They would come to school on Monday, after the weekend talking about taking LSD and Cocaine and having sex with their older boyfriends.  I just listened and let it roll off my back because I knew I was way too young for that business.  But they liked me a lot so they would travail me with these stories of slutty-hood and debauchery.

So I knew they liked to party and they were my friends in school so I wrote, “stay high” in her yearbook and the adults all freaked out on me.  And her too, but she laughed it off because her parents allowed her these luxuries.

But not mine, and not that I would have wanted to do that stuff at such a young age, I wouldn’t have.  They would tell me that I needed to take LSD with them and then they would “take advantage” of me in the bedroom.

Sounds about what every high school boy dreams of, it actually happened to me but I just put it out of my mind because I knew I was going on a mission for Jesus Christ when I was 19 and I had to remain pure as I could.  But I smoked a lot of weed, and drank alcohol and made out with a lot of chicks…I just never went all the way like those crazy chicas wanted me too.

And after the discovery of “stay high” in the yearbook, I was grounded for two months by my parents.  Man, that sucked.  I got grounded a lot, and for long times too because I did some stuff I should not have done, but it was never as severe as my parents imagined, and during lecture time I never said anything, just listened to them tell me what kind of trouble I was getting into for coming home smelling like smoke.

Man, I must have driven my parents nuts in my latter high school years.  They have no idea I was merely the celibate stoner.  I just liked my brain escape from the harshness of home, but I wasn’t out womanizing or anything like my other buddies were.

Cure For Depression In The Year 2015

Put down, get away from, or unplug whatever screen has your attention and go create something of beauty, anything, but do it without your electronic device.

Cook a meal from scratch out of our imagination, make something new.

Draw a picture of yourself, then do it again.

Get out of the slavery and bondage of the Internet!

It is a web that is catching its prey.

The World Wide Web.

always watching

And it has caught humanity as its victim and they don’t even realize it.

A Communist in the Whitehouse – I’m just getting started…more to come

At a glance many people will smirk and chuckle about the title of this post, but I’m not using hyperbole and trying to emphasize a point of view;  I’m stone cold serious. And I’ll demonstrate how I found this and why I believe it and why it’s important.

First off, this country is not a Democracy nor is it a Republic per se.

We live in a Constitutional Republic.

Why is it important to understand this from the beginning?  Because it is the very foundation upon which our nation was perceived, framed and constructed; and the antithesis of Barack Obama’s vision for our future.

What is a Constitutional Republic? First, let’s start by defining Democracy and Republic.

A democratic form of government is simply, majority rule.  Everyone who is eligible and can vote has a voice, and in the end the majority’s persuasion wins the day.

A republic form of government is one where the elected government officials represent the individual, but are beholden to the populus at large and therefore, their affairs are open to public view and scrutiny.

America is a Constitutional Republic.

We adhere to the tenets of our founding Constitution and its articles of declaration and our elected government officials, who are elected by a process that is democratic (and that’s why people believe America is a democracy, because we vote) are therefore bound to the principles within the Constitution and its amendments.  The Constitution is their playbook.  Everything they do, comes from within those documents.  At least that’s how it’s supposed to work.

In America, the Federal government has no power over the people.  They merely have the authority act within the boundaries created by the Constitution; nothing more and nothing less.

The individual united states however, have authority to pass laws and regulations based on their social needs created from the desires of the people living within their boundaries by a democratic process.

Elected officials within the states represent the people to the Federal government i.e. Congressmen and Senators.

So to make it very simplistic, the people in the states vote for individuals who have the same beliefs and principles and give them their trust as they then go to the Capital of the Nation to represent the voice of the individual.

Why are there Congress and Senate and what do each do?

I’m not going to go into all that much detail but the purpose of a Congressman is to hear the voice of the people by the state in which he was elected and take that voice to the Federal government to be heard.

The Senate is there to evaluate the deeds of Congress, and to ratify their bills and laws and decide if they are in line with constitutional principles.  If they are, the laws are passed, amendments chartered and so on and so forth.

The purpose of the President is to oversee the deeds of the Congress and Senate and to make sure that they are upholding the principles of the Constitution, from which their authority is granted.  And he is given the power to veto bills and laws if they are not in line with the Constitution.

He is an overseer.  The president is granted no legislative authority.  That is reserved for the purposes of the Congress and the Senate.

But all to often, once a man is given a little authority, he immediately exersizes unrighteous dominion, and that is why there is a Senate, to keep Congress in check, and a President to make sure all bills are in line with constitutional principles.

And then we have the Supreme Court, but we won’t go into that.  Enough is enough with our discussion of government 101.

However, many people believe that the office of the President is one of authority, and power over Congress, the Senate and the People.  This is completely opposite to the purpose of the creation of this experiment called America.  For the President to have authority over the legislative bodies and the people, would be to have a King or a Dictator.  As I said before, the President is merely an overseer and protector of our freedoms; nothing more, nothing less.

The office of the President is very simple, although its execution is complicated by politics.  And now we return to the temptation that a man given authority has the tendency toward the immediate exersize of unrighteous dominion.

Without being too detailed, I’ll lay out, based on my understanding, which has come by my formal education and relentless pursuit for the knowledge of our nation’s history and government (I’m not just repeating what I hear others say) so that as we proceed, we also understand together the same definition of political titles and terminologies, where authority is given and its boundaries.  Because too often conversations turn contentious simply because ideas are represented by words which are defined differently from one person to another; ergo the explanation of the authorities of the different branches of government in America.

And now that we have that foundation laid down, and a common understanding of things we can begin to discuss all this communist-in-the-whitehouse hoopla (see what I did there, with the foundation and that…).

One thing I’ll give to this president is his honoring the promise to fundamentally transform America.  Because that’s exactly why he ran for office.  Hope and change, to fundamentally transform America.

Here’s the actual quote given October 31, 2008

“After decades of broken politics in Washington, and eight years of failed policies from George W. Bush, and 21 months of a campaign that’s taken us from the rocky coast of Maine to the sunshine of California, we are five days away from fundamentally transforming the United States of America. In five days, you can turn the page on policies that put greed and irresponsibility on Wall Street before the hard work and sacrifice of folks on Main Street.”

And in this context its critical to remember that in another speech given February 19, 2008, which has been given the title “Just Words”, he quoted many former presidents and emphasised how important the words used in presidential speeches really are, and that they mean what they say.

He threw those words over our heads in his speech but when I heard him say that my hair caught fire.  And that’s one of the reasons I’ve been relentless over the past five or six years in pointing out his actions and trying to demonstrate in a way that people can understand, the direction in which they are steering our nation.

So what does a ‘fundamental transformation’ really mean and why would he say something like that in regards to his Hope and Change campaign?

It’s important now, that we understand where the campaign slogan “Hope and Change” originated.  What are the roots of these terms and why did he use the word Hope, and what does the word Change really mean to him?

Those words resonate with everyone on a level that brings comfort and enthusiasm for prosperity, and relief from our burdens.   But it’s important to understand what those terms mean to the person who used them in the first place.  Why did he say them to us and what is he really trying to say?  Because he knows that those are positive, uplifting terms to most, however his definition of them is far more sinister than many of us realize.   And its because of the origin of those terms coming from him, in context with his background, that they are so dangerous.

Let’s start with the term ‘change’ and what it really means coming from his roots.

Barack Obama was indoctrinated deeply with sympathy for the cause of Marxist, Leninist, Taoist, Trotskyite, AKA Communist principles, especially while he was at Columbia University and then in Chicago in the mid nineteen eighties where he was given accolades, attention, a taste of power and some vision he could believe in, in actually being an influential part of the infiltration and eventual overthrow of what he perceived as a corrupt and oppresive American regime.

When Obama got to Chicago, he began his work as a community organizer.  This is public knowledge and sounds like a credible and honorable position of leadership.  But understanding what a community organizer is and where its roots spring is critical in understanding Obama’s indoctrination into a full blown Marxist.

He began training in the mid nineteen eightees at the Midwest Academy, through a grant from the Woods Fund which he received through his associations with Thomas Ayers.

Thomas Ayers is the father of William Ayers and was then CEO of Commonwealth Edison, which is one of the largest gas and electric utility holding companies in the nation.

One of Bill Ayers’ most poignant comments was, after being charged with terrorist bombings and being acquitted on a technicality, “guilty as sin, free as a bird.”  Of course he was acquitted because of his powerful connections through his father.

The Midwest Academy was founded by sixties radicals who were members of the SDS, Students for a Democratic Society.  Remember the definition of Democracy?  Majority rule.  No foundation in principle or ethics and no constitution.  Simply a powerful arm to forcing the rule of the strong over the weak.

Now were going to take a little diversion to explore the origins of the SDS, just for a moment, so that we can better understand what type of motivation his trainers at the Midwest Academy had in forming him into a community organizer, then I’ll demonstrae what a community organizer really is.

The SDS was born of Marxist philosophy and founded upon its principles.  In short, the SDS is a new-age euphamism for modern day Marxist think-tankers.

NOTE: If you don’t understand Karl Marx and the fact that he was a megalomaniac bent on the destruction of liberty and freedom then you should go back to the drawing board, get a little brush up on the origins of Communist theory and start all over with this post.

Here’s how the SDS links directly to Karl Marx and the proof that Obama is a Communist.  But that’s not even the smoking gun in all of this, so stick with me because it will all come together.

Karl Marx was inspired by the philosopher George Hegel, who created dialectic theory and the art of argument.  Without going into the details of Hegelian Dialectics, I’ll define it briefly.  George Hegel isn’t the man who created the dialectic theory originally but he is the one to whom its philosophical body is commonly attributed.

Dialectics approaches all theories and theoroms based on the premise that all supporting axioms of thought are inherently flawed.  Therefore the proponents of dialectic theory naturally seek to find fault in everything around them and therefore are able to create a new problem which then needs to be overcome by thier implementation of a solution, thereby giving them the control; which was their original design, taking control.

Dialectic is more than just rhetoric or debate.  It is a mode of moving an idealogy or philosophy off of its foundation for the purposes of change and assimilation, to bring differing ideals into a more commonly accepted realm of thought.

This is how socialists, leftists, Marxists and facists think and approach everything.  At a glance it looks like a healthy way of exploring ideas, because we must be open to the possibility that there are flaws in ideas so that we can correct them and move forward to healing and truth.

However, those who have more diabolical ideals coursing through their thought processes use dialectic theory to poke holes in otherwise sound and solid modes of thought for the purposes of usurping power over more natural and morally based ideals which have stood for millenia.  That’s why it’s so easy to lead a group around by the nose once religion, or a principled foundation is removed from the equation.

There are no absolutes in dialectic thought.  Everything is up for discussion and everything is open to change; and a democratic power structure who rules over a dependent, lower class is always the force manipulating that change for their own needs and pleasures at any given time.

All that the power hungry structure needs for a populus to follow them is a large enough common crisis that affects everyone, and then they are able to propose a solution to what seems an unsolvable problem.

Please share this with everyone who is open to the truth.  It’s important that Americans are knowledgeable about these things.  This isn’t a game and it isn’t a safety net.  It’s literal tyranny, just what the Founding Fathers escaped.

(image used without permission)

Sources

During all the controversy I’ve created among my circle of friends and family with my thoughts and opinions I’ve come to find that they want sources for my insights.  I have failed to provide the sources of my research, therefore I am being accused of lying and making things up.

In the future I will start to cite my sources but for now I’ll say that all of what I have gathered has come from the study of a combination of sources.  Many of which will go against the  grain of many peoples comfort but these are my conclusions based on research of the best books I have found in life.  And one of the things I was taught as a child was to find truth from the best books, and I have held on to that as a standard of guidance for my life, to answer the questions I come up against throughout my trials and they have served me well as I now have inner peace and calm and I am in balance with what I believe is divine nature, God.

People in my life accuse me of many things but I have come to this by work, research, experience, living life, making mistakes, making choices, exercising reason and applying these things to my daily life.  These are all the things the people in my life who are accusing me of wrong doing are telling me to do, and I do them, and these are the results.  So why are they pointing fingers at me?  I think the confusion is with them, not with me.  I am fine and I am free.

My primary sources are the cannon of scripture from the LDS church.  The King James version of the bible, the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants and the Pearl of Great Price, along with many translations of ancient Egyptian writings from the times of the pharaohs.  I also follow after the philosophies of the ancient Roman philosopher Marcus Tullius Cicero, coupled with the reason and integrity of our founding fathers, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, John Adams and George Washington.

Recently I have been privileged to have been enlightened by the teachings of Dr. Bruce Lipton, a microbiologist who has done stem cell research  since 1967 and who has pioneered the new bio-science of epigenetics.

Thanks for following along.  Comments are welcome,  please check your anger at the door.  This is discussion of important matters that pertain to life.  Humor is welcome always!

(top image used without artist permission)

The Godfathers of Guitar

There’s a progression in music, much like the generations that pass as we raise our children, pass on our values and go forward into the world, having influence on so much.  We might feel insignificant while we are bogged down in the drudgery and seemingly mundane detail of every effort it takes to produce what it is we are striving for.

But it’s all worth it!  It pays off, maybe not in the peak of our lives as we would like, but if we persist, endure and do it right our lives and what we create become a crescendo that builds a foundation for those who come after us.  What we do is not lost on the demands of daily life as long as we keep our eyes on the distant goal.

Before I get too far off course, I’ll reel my thoughts back in and start talking about a man named Robert Johnson. Robert Johnson was born in 1911 and only lived to the age of twenty seven, but what he did for music is something that cannot be measured.

This brings me to another point of irony; the great music artists who made a huge splash and shook up the status quo of music in their day, dying at the age of twenty seven.  Robert Johnson, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Kurt Cobain.  There I go again getting ahead of myself.  It’s all in my head, but I need to lay it out in some order for it to make any sense.

Everyone has heard the story of the guy who sold his soul at the crossroads for talent, fame and glory.  Charlie Daniels brought it to us and told the story well in his classic song, The Devil Went Down To Georgia.  Did you ever wonder where the story of Johnny and the Devil came from?  It wasn’t Johnny and it wasn’t a fiddle.  It was Robert Johnson with a guitar.

Robert Johnson was a good blues guitar player but he wanted more, he wanted to be the best.  He studied with one of the greats of the time, Son House and used to try to emulate his idol but was unable to play as well.  When Johnson was nineteen he disappeared from Robinsonville, Mississippi for several months and when he came back he had a new guitar technique that nobody had ever played before.

This is where the story gets told, that Robert Johnson, for his passion of wanting to play the guitar so well, took his guitar to a crossroad near the Dockery Plantation at midnight where a large black man appeared to him.  The man took the guitar from Johnson, tuned it, played a couple of songs, and gave the guitar back to him along with total mastery of the instrument.  He was given the gift he sought but in return for this gift Johnson exchanged his soul.

This story makes for great PR but there’s another story that is probably what really happened.  Another player of the time named Ike Zinnerman spent a lot of time with Robert Johnson playing in the local cemetery at midnight, reportedly because it was quiet and nobody was around to disturb them.  This is where Johnson honed his mastery of the instrument, and the cemetery isn’t a bad place to come up with a story about selling one’s soul to the devil in exchange for fame and glory.

With the fame and glory came a tragic end.  Robert Johnson had been playing a certain gig for a few weeks and was flirting with the juke joint owner’s wife.  The man offered Johnson an open bottle of whiskey (he had previously been warned to never accept an open bottle but replied to the man who told him that to never knock a bottle from his hand) and he drank from it.  Reports tell us that the bottle was laced with strychnine and over the next few days Robert Johnson fell ill and eventually died.

Robert Johnson did leave us with an incredible catalog of recorded music that artists of the future would learn from and grow with to produce greater and more influential musical creation for us to partake of.  One in particular, and the one who most all musicians would agree is the standard for rock and roll and blues guitar is James Marshall Hendrix aka Jimi Hendrix.

Jimi Hendrix was born Johnny Allen Hendrix, November 27, 1942.  When Jimi’s dad came back from Europe after World War II he changed Jimi’s name to James Marshall, after his late brother, Leon Marshall.  I’m not sure where the James came from but I like it because we get Jimi spelled in that unique way.  Maybe it was just time to break from the chaos of the past and make things new.  Jimi always had a bright outlook on things and I think Al, his dad, was instrumental in teaching him correct principles.

On a side note, I had the honor of shaking hands with Al Hendrix in the fall of 1991 at a club in Seattle called the Rockandy.  It was a type of gig the Seattle bands put together to follow a theme of the godfathers of rock and roll and this night was Jimi Hendrix theme night.  Twelve Seattle bands came together to perform two Hendrix tunes of their choice and of their interpretation.  No, we didn’t have Nirvana or Soundgarden or Alice in Chains or Screaming Trees or Pearl Jam or Mudhoney or any of the huge list of big-shot Seattle bands you might wish were a part of this story; yeah, and I wish too!  How would that have been?  To meet Al Hendrix and watch Soundgarden knock out a couple Jimi covers for a six dollar entry?  But it wasn’t to be. Although we did get a dramatic performance from a band called The Sky Cries Mary, an obvious reference to Jimi’s song The Wind Cries Mary.  The Sky Cries Mary had some accolades and even made an appearance on the David Letterman show, but for some reason they didn’t receive the strong and wide spread recognition a lot of the projects coming out of Seattle did, which is a cryin’ shame because to be honest their expression through music was far more complex and layered than most everything else, especially at that time. They were never part of the ‘grunge’ scene, nor do I think they ever had any desire to be. They stood head and shoulders apart from the rest of the dank and dirty rock and roll genre that swept through Seattle at that time..

 

I sat with Roderick Romero, a member of The Sky Cries Mary, that night and we talked of musical expression, the layering of sound and the experiences obtained through the use of mind expanding particles introduced to the creative process. It is a conversation that has stayed with me through my life and throughout my creative endeavors. It was a great night, and I am grateful to have had that moment with him; he is an inspired and remarkable artistic visionary.

And there I go again, getting off track.  When it comes to music and the things I’ve seen, I can talk for hours and find myself down the goofiest tangents.

Jimi’s mom died when he was nine, from complications due to her alcohol abuse, and he moved up to Vancouver, BC for a while.  This is where he acquired his first acoustic guitar, from a pawn shop for five dollars.  His dad got it for him because Jimi had been air guitaring on an old broom stick and playing a broken ukulele his dad found while cleaning the garage.

Eventually Al rounded up enough dough to get Jimi his first electric guitar.  In 1958 he got a white Supro Ozark 1560 S, single pickup from Myer’s Music in Seattle, Washington.  He didn’t have an amplifier but Jimi did what he could with what he had and that’s why Jimi Hendrix is the legend he is today; because he felt it and what he felt, he was able to let out his arms and through his fingers, through his guitars and into our ears for the expansion of minds around the musical world.

Jimi took what the godfathers before him did, like Robert Johnson, Son House and Ike Zinnerman and added a new flavor to the mix.  It’s an evolution, and as society in Jimi’s day evolved in technology and industry, so did music in intellectuality.  Thank God Jimi Hendrix was there with his electric guitar to express this new knowledge given us from The Field in the form of music as the floodgates opened and the new energy rolled forward.  The minds who were paying attention and who would not immediately dismiss this new horizon as rebellion and sedition from normalcy opened to the influence of this musical microcosm that had previously existed only in science fiction and in the fantasies of artists.

He had the audacity to play The Star Spangled Banner at Woodstock, and regardless of what most white collar conservatives, flashing down the street, pointing their plastic fingers at Jimi believe, he did it as a tribute to this great nation, not as a desecration of something sacred as our national anthem.  Just because the squares of the day didn’t get it doesn’t mean his art form was nothing short of God’s grace shedding brilliant talent down on a generation of artists to shake up the status quo.  That’s not to say his lifestyle was anything to emulate; maybe something to be learned from, but the authorities of the day tried to dismiss what he was doing as a mockery when it was merely a new form of expression.  And to dismiss the art because of the artist is a shame.  If we were to do that then we might just as well throw out Mozart, Hemmingway and Van Gogh.

Jimi did live fast and died hard.  On September 18, 1970 at the age of twenty seven, Jimi Hendrix died.  It was that night that he had attended a party in London and was picked up by his then girlfriend, Monika Dannemann and driven to her place at the Samarkand Hotel at Notting Hill.  It was no secret that Jimi had an affection for amphetamines and this night he downed nine Vesperax, a German brand sleeping pill whose dosage was one half of a pill.  A few hours after midnight Jimi began to vomit from the overdose but was unconscious from the high dosage and asphyxiated on the red wine that was in his stomach.  Eeeew!

That’s a tragic end to a lifestyle lived.  God bless Jimi Hendrix and may he be forgiven for any trespasses upon the Natural Law.  He was a man of vision and an artist that many followed after.

And after Jimi came many, and there were other masters who deserve mention as Jimi’s peers.  Eric Clapton, Carlos Santana, George Harrison, Jimmy Page and in the years beyond the great sixties and early seventies we had mega freaks like Eddie Van Halen, Randy Rhodes, the Schenker brothers and Stevie Ray Vaughan and even some disgustingly, technically perfect, so perfect it’s not even enjoyable listening, like Joe Satriani and Steve Vai.  But then, thank the heavens; we were blessed in the late eighties with a new son of pure guitar art form who played only because it’s the only thing he could do.  Not for the glory, not for the fame, not for the money; he played from the heart and he gave it everything.

On June 25, 1988 Hillel Slovak, guitarist for the Red Hot Chili Peppers succumbed to the horrors of heroin addiction and left a gaping hole in the world of music.  One of their fans, John Anthony Frusciante had been playing guitar since age nine when he became infatuated with The Germs and learned to play along with their record, GI.  Shortly after that, one of his instructors turned him on to the Red Hot Chili Peppers and John proceeded to emulate Hillel Slovak’s guitar style.  John went on to master the blues scales at then discovered Frank Zappa.  At the age of sixteen, with the permission of his parents, he dropped out of high school after taking a proficiency test and enrolled at the Guitar Institute of Technology.  At one point Frusciante was set on trying out for Frank Zappa’s band but heard that Frank wasn’t too keen on chemical refreshment so John decided, as he knew he was going to indulge in the hedonism of rock stardom, not to even give it a shot.

Frusciante had become friends of the Chili Peppers as their shows were more intimate in the early days when the fans would go gangbusters slam dancing (before it was called moshing) and rarely experience the show visually.  There was a band in LA at the time called Thelonious Monster who was auditioning guitar players.  Anthony Keidis was friends with Bob Forrester of Thelonious Monster and arranged an audition for John.  After seeing the audition, Anthony offered Frusciante a position in the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

John Frusciante was eighteen years old and they called him Greenie.  He fell in quick with the band and followed in Hillel’s footsteps without missing a beat.  It was almost as though he had channeled Hillel’s spirit he played the Chili Peppers’ material so well.  As Slovak was greatly influenced by Jimi Hendrix, so was John Frusciante, and like Hillel, John approached the guitar from a minimalist angle, which likely came from his punk and new wave roots.  And I say God bless you John for not being another over playing virtuoso and laying it down cleanly and simply and beautifully as you have for the years.

The music that John has created with The Red Hot Chili Peppers has given me insight into things that I knew were going on within my own life, but I was unable to touch upon them in any coherent manner.  But when I listened to Californication in February of 2000 while driving from Vancouver, Washington to Salt Lake City to look for a new career, and move my family back home as the wife requested, I heard Anthony telling me about parallel universes and that was something of a catalyst to my thinking toward my belief that this band has in fact, paralleled my entire life with their songs, the stories they tell within the songs and all the drama and in fighting, with Dave Navarro coming into the band during that time I was adopting my two daughters, Tayslie and Ali and I did  not treat them right.  I didn’t have the tools or the skills to be a tender and nurturing parent.  But as time has passed I have grown in knowledge and wisdom and I pray that those beautiful young women forgive me some day of the faults of a young man who was trying his best to do what he was told by those around him and echoing the environment in which he was raised.

And here we are today, loving Stadium Arcadium, again following the patterns of my life.  Every song on that recording speaks profoundly to me at some level of my life at the time it was recorded, from my relationships with younger women and She’s Only 18 (and it actually tells the story of my relationships with Jayne Pederson exactly as it happened, and with another girl named Raquel; it just blows me away how precise the words are to us) to Warlocks when I spent my time in Portland with the hedge witch, Tami to the soul touching song Hey, the last track on the first disc, Mars of the Stadium Arcadium masterpiece; that song, Hey tells the story of the communication between me and my ex wife to the T.  And the song, Charlie is totally Marlene, my angel and my healer. And not to mention their unreleased b-sides recordings that speak directly to me with profound exactness every time I stumble upon them.

I could go on and write volumes.  This means nothing to many and it’s just silliness to some, but for me it’s profound and this is my life.  All things happen for a reason.  There is no such thing as coincidence.  All things have purpose, if you have faith enough to believe on things greater than yourself.

So, from Robert Johnson to Jimi Hendrix and on down through the cacophony of glammed up rock star virtuoso guitar players we are blessed with the tenderness of John Frusciante who expresses the truth right through his instrument and into my ears to resonate with me and validate my existence.

I love you John.  Thank you for everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve given us and everything that is to come.  John Frusciante is a master beyond recognition.

You coulda fooled me!

I need to preface this post by saying I don’t 100% agree with the sentiment expressed within.  I do, however like the way I expressed it and think there’s some food for thought here.  It’s easy to be hyper-sensitive at times and perceive things that are not actually taking place.

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“He who takes offense when no offense is intended is a fool, and he who takes offense when offense is intended is a greater fool.”
— Brigham Young

Tonight I went to a dance.  It was weird, but I was there.  It was a dance in downtown SLC at a Masonic lodge put on by some people who throw parties and dances for single people over the age of thirty five.  So I went with a friend for something to do, to hang out, dance a little, mingle, munch on some snacks, say hi to some friends and call it a night.

It was good for the most part, but I do have one big complaint.  And I hate to complain.  I used to like to complain a lot.  I used to have a good old time blogging and criticizing people, complaining about all sorts of crazy and unimportant things I found irritating in my life.  That was back when I was basically miserable inside; happy on the outside but tormented on the inside.  Now I’m what you see is what you get.

So I wandered down to the area where all the people I know are dancing and they’re laughing, having a good time and dancing.  Now, the deal here is that all the guys want the women to like them and they’re all trying to impress all the women.  And all the women want to look good enough to be accepted by the other women and to be liked by all the guys.  So there’s this dynamic going on of human mating rituals, showing off, trying to impress each other and all sorts of one-upsmanship and I’m just there to hang out.  I could give two shits about impressing anyone or making a love connection.

These are people I know, I’ve associated with in the past; not people I’d put on my Christmas list or to whose funerals I would be invited, but they are people I’ve shared the social spotlight with and we have common friends.  When I go to these dances I don’t get all excited and immediately run out on the dance floor and start cutting a groove to China.  I like to stand back for a while, watch everyone, see who is around, watch what’s happening, have some snacks, meet a person or two and then maybe dance a little bit.  I think because I approach it this way that some people think I’m being a snob or anti-social.  It’s not that at all; I just like to soak things in.  I’m different from most people and I don’t feel like I have to jump into the fray to avoid missing some critical moment in social evolution.  OK, that was a snobbish comment; maybe I should take it back.  It doesn’t apply to everyone but I know it applies to some.

When I finally got down to the group I started dancing with my friend and I said hello to a few of the people there from across the room; talked to one or two of them a little bit.  There were some casual hellos given with a little courteous wave of the hand but it was mostly insincere, formal gesturing.

When the whole shebang was through the house lights came up and all the glad handing and hugging commenced and people started saying their goodbyes.  This is where it was really apparent that I was not part of the pack.  Eye contact was avoided with me by people I’ve had lengthy intimate conversations with in the past and except for a few of them who are genuinely cool people, nobody had any time or interest in my being there.  I only bring this up because I know why it happened like this.  It’s because of my past; because I spent some time in jail and that I have a reputation for associating with more rough-around-the-edges sorts of crowds.  In short, it’s a result of the choices I’ve made in the past.

Now, it does bother me on some level but I really want to say it doesn’t bother me at all, and tomorrow it isn’t going to bother me one bit and I’m going to feel like I shouldn’t have made this blog post at all; but like I said in the preface, I think there’s some food for thought in here.

Truly, it doesn’t really bother me other than just on the surface.  I mean I could take them or leave them, except that they’re my brothers and sisters and I do care for them and love them, but they’re just people, regular people who have regular lives.  They come and go; they’re not a critical part of my life.

But this sort of thing has never happened to me before although I have witnessed it happening to others in this very same circle.  I have seen people come and go from this social circle because they become offended and feel ostracized by the indifference of others.

I like to talk to people.  I like to say hello to strangers and make conversation with people I don’t know.  I like to make someone I don’t know laugh and try to make an impression on them to help them feel like there’s somebody out there who found them interesting enough to give their attention to.  That’s what uplifting our brothers and sisters is about.  And it’s not about doing it just to get it done, it’s about being sincerely interested in another person.

This sort of snubbing I see going on with people of this age only happens in Utah and in the LDS social circles.  It’s sad but true.  I certainly hate to be critical of my people; and they are my people because of my ancestry, my culture and the group I primarily identify myself with.

The core of our religious beliefs is Jesus Christ and love, compassion and service.  The purpose of our very lives is to help up build the kingdom of God on the earth and welcome all of our brothers and sisters into the fold; especially those who have been lost and wandering; not to shun them because they have habits or tendencies toward things that go against the teachings of our gospel.  Because to be completely honest, all of us are guilty of that very thing.  If that were not true none of us would need repentance.  It’s just that many people have bad habits that are easy to hide, that don’t outwardly offend others or make others out-rightly uncomfortable.

Say there’s one guy who shows up reeking of cigarette smoke, wearing a Headbanger’s Ball t-shirt and another guy shows up who has just spent the past three hours watching hard-core pornography in the privacy of his own home.  How easy is it to pass judgment in a case like that?  The outward appearance is important, but the truth is more important.

Sometimes I wonder if the feeling is that if they associate with me they will somehow be categorized by their peers as being sympathetic to whatever behavior or experience in my past opposes their values.  I have a checkered past and it surely rubs some people the wrong way.  And there are others who look right past it and know me as the person I am; not for the light that shines on me but for the light that shines from me.

Often times, people close themselves off and huddle together in their social groups like Jr. High School kids.  I know they don’t do this on purpose and I know they have bigger hearts than I’m making it sound like, but their actions certainly mean something.  I know they do good things and give service, are good parents, good friends and good, honest citizens.  I tried to socialize with them, I tried to be a part of the crowd, tried to be friendly, tried to open up but there’s something going on, something about me that threatens or otherwise makes them feel uneasy.

Somebody is going to read this blog post and word is going to spread and then they’ll know how I feel, then they will feel justified in ignoring me because they can point to the attitude expressed in this blog post and say it’s because of my own behavior I feel this way.  But I didn’t feel this way until tonight.

So I got this off my chest, it’s just a rant and it’s probably an overblown misunderstanding but the essence of what I’m saying is surely going to resonate with some people who understand exactly where I’m coming from.  Then there will be the defensive group who won’t have a clue what I’m talking about and think I’m just being a jerk.  Then there might be a couple who are exceptions, who were actually very cool to me and who don’t belong as part of this rant, but who mistakenly think I still mean them too.

You can’t make everyone happy all of the time.  There’s no use in trying, so I just tell the truth, call it like I see it, speak my mind, say what I’m feeling and let the cards fall where they may.  This makes some people uncomfortable but I live life with a clean conscious knowing that I’m honest and truthful.  People don’t have to guess what I’m thinking or wonder how I feel.  Despite all of this ranting, I have nothing against any of these good people and I admire all of them in many different ways.

It’s just unfortunate that some of them feel uncomfortable.  Is it my fault or is it their problem? I don’t know.  I don’t think it really matters anyway.  I think what matters is that the future holds good things and that everything is going to be just fine and that I have no reason to bitch about anything.

Eavesdroppings

I got on the train this morning and the first thing I heard was a woman talking to a blind man.  She was saying something like, “I don’t put on a dress and ask him, does this make me look fat, I ask him, how does this look, and if he says it looks too tight I say OK”.

Why do women do that to us?  Our bodies get out of shape.  We can’t all stay at that 15 year old physique all our lives and when that perfect slimness and optimal body fat content thing starts to go haywire on us we leave it to others to validate our unsightliness by putting them on the spot with unavoidable questions like, “how does this dress look?”

I don’t talk about anything but the dress.  She asks me, “how does this dress look?”, I talk about the colors I see or the cut of it, I’m not getting involved in any of the “I can see your fat rolls”, or “your kankles are showing”, discussion.  Leave that to the suicide squad.

Now that that’s off my chest…

I went to Karaoke last night.  Not something I recommend if you’re looking to broaden your cultural horizons or if you have any appreciation for real art and music.  But if you like to sit back and feel like a complete snob watching mediocrity fail, it’s a real good time.  I’ve done Karaoke, but when I do Karaoke I go balls out.  I’m not going to get up there and sing Alan Parson’s Project, get the arms waving back and for the Eye in the Sky.  It’s a good song for its time; some say a classic, but for Karaoke?  Who wants to go to all the trouble of getting out of the comfort of their personal surroundings and go watch some dude whose artistic inspiration starts and stops on commercial television?  And that’s about the time I start telling myself, “I’m such an ass.”

Karaokeists are just trying to have a good time, they’re playing around, their friends are laughing, it’s all part of camaraderie and good clean fun; it’s like playing house or having a tea party when you’re four years old.  When you see life through the lens I see life through it’s not that simple.

I see over in the corner of my eye this dude, obviously a dude, and my gaydar is pretty good because last year when the census takers knocked on my door I was given a voucher for a gaydar upgrade and I just had it installed last week, so it’s a guy.  And I don’t even know if this qualifies to be in the gaydar range of discussion, if I’m treading on some homophobia sacred ground of discussion or if I’m just being an ass again, but I’m saying to myself, that dude looks like a lesbian.  You know, he’s got the butch haircut, baby face, he’s kind of chubby, little bit of the man boob thing going on with a puca shell necklace, having a little too much fun sweatin’ to the oldies.  And he’s wearing the same clothes those chicks who are trying to look like dudes wear.  So I mention it to a friend of mine just to check and see if I’m really a total and complete ass or if it’s actually kind of funny, and she starts laughing.  I say yeah I feel bad for saying it out loud, or even thinking it, but look at the guy.  She validates me by saying yeah, you’re right, that’s pretty funny.

Then he starts slow dancing.  It’s not bad enough that it was Karaoke but they took a break and started playing slow songs to give us a little chance at romance, and Charlie Crooner gets on the mic.  It was like American Idol reject clips, but I’m trying to be good about the whole thing.  These people are having fun, no babies are being punched and no new diseases are being designed by our activities, it’s just good, clean, wholesome fun, right?

So This guy is slow dancing with some girl, she’s cute, no big deal, but the whole time I’m seeing this out of the corner of my eye I’m just laughing inside and I lean to my friend and said, “those two chicks are dancing with each other.”  Now, that’s not even funny, it’s nothing to laugh about, two chicks dancing together, no big deal.  But I’m sitting there feeling like such a pompous ass being so condescending to this bull crap music, trying to make it an uplifting and enjoyable time, finding joy in people lip syncing to the worst of the worst of the top forty from 25 years ago, as though they’re doing us a favor dragging us down memory lane with them.

I hated this crap then and you’re not making it any better for me.  It’s like putting miracle whip on a bologna sandwich.  It’s still bologna and it’s still miracle whip, sugar infused mayonnaise.  It’s like the nutrition of junk food for the soul.  And all I can do to keep myself entertained is think how much this poor, innocent, young man looks like he’s trying to fool us into thinking he’s a dude, when really already is.  And the tragedy that he looks like that is something I’m starting to feel guilt for, but then at the same time it’s the only thing keeping me lightly entertained, enough to be able to scrape a little joy off the bottom of this bucket of preservative packed soul junk food, then I look down and in front of me is a bowl of cheese puffs.

It was like a sign from the gods telling me this is where I’m supposed to be.  It’s cheesy and it’s full of fluff with no real substance but if you munch on them long enough you can learn to enjoy.  Somewhere safe, not going to find any trouble, certainly not going to stir up any shenanigans, and I begin to realize that I really like to rock the boat and if it’s not rocking I’m not comfortable.

Then I see lezbo boy again in the corner of my eye and it just hits me and I double over in a fit of laughter and I start clapping and giggling like a giddy little school girl at the silliness of it all and the whole time it’s so loud and there’s so much going on that nobody knows what I’m carrying on about and they all think I’m just joining in and having a good time with everyone crooning to the sounds of rock and roll pabulum.

Then somebody puts on ‘Give it Away’ by the Red Hot Chili Peppers.  And I’m thinking OK, this is a song I can get behind, but he’s reading the lyrics, there’s no soul, no groove, no funk, and certainly to busting out of anything Chili Pepper style and my friends know this about me, that I’m a huge Chili Peppers fan so they’re like, go on out there man this is your song.  But what am I gonna do, go out there and do an Anthony Keidis impression with this guy who started the song?  That’s not cool, to go out there and show him up.  And then I’m back to thinking again, man I’m and ass for thinking that if went out there it would be showing him up, like what I could do would be some ‘in your face’ to his effort at entertaining us.  It’s not a basketball tournament.  So I just sat back and watched it unfold.

Karaoke is a weird thing, it makes me feel squirmy.  I’m such a critic and such a snob when it comes to any sort of art form.  I like to express myself but there are so many people who do it in such better ways than I could with the mediums available, but so often if I had the skill that they had I would do it in such a different way.  And that’s why I wish I could express my emotions through a medium I had complete mastery over.  So it’s time to start practicing again, because it’s time to express things in the right way.

I think it’s important that we all create something of beauty, that we work hard to express what we find colorful and lovely and beautiful around us, to reproduce what we feel; what evokes emotion within us, in one form or another for others to respond to, to bring them life and inspiration and to bring to life that inner spirit that creates and loves what is intangible and beautiful about art and the greatness that surrounds us, that which we all want to be a part of, where we can find common ground and build together.

Worlds collide

I sit here in a hotel room because I don’t have a home.  I have so many friends who take care of my every need.  I love them so much.  I’ve been so blessed to have such wonderful friends and new aquaintences but there is another side to the coin.  I have a family and a wake of destruction behind me who don’t have any faith in me and who don’t want me around. 

What if those two worlds were to collide?

It would mean work for sure.  Healing would be the ultimate goal.  To bring a family together after having broken it apart would be a true miracle.  I hope it is possible.  I have lived my life to make it that way and it’s time now to heal.

Oh, the intellectual heights you can reach with text messaging!

This is a conversation I just had with Lance via SMS using Verizon’s vast wireless infrastructure.

Lance: Let’s get together, put on leather helmets and club each other to Yanni’s greatest hits.

Me: I agree with all of that except for the part about Yanni’s hits being great.

Lance: It’s a comparative way of ranking Yanni’s songs differentiating his master works from lesser filler efforts within his wide, all encompassing catalog. It’s not a personal assessment of Yanni “the artist’s” degree of suckitude.

Me: Well, if the ranks are based on the scale of suckitude then greatness is relative whether good, bad or suckish. His greatest suckiness would indeed be considered great among the greatest of sucks.

Lance: Well, sure. That’s a given. I’m not arguing that. I’m simply saying that I have the helmets and clubs right now.