Love and Pain are One in the Same

28 03 2016

[photo by vaughn brown – model Cydney Young]

575813_527037100669051_2081773692_nLove is a two way street. It flows and it ebbs. It gives and receives.

Love does not take.

Anger takes and anger abuses the loving places withing our heart spaces where love once lived, from where love was given.

If love is not given back to fill empty love places within our empty heart spaces our hearts break and make sad faces.

Do not take love unless you have love to give.

Only receive love if you want love to help your life live.

Then plant that love in your heart to let it grow, then let your heart flow unto another space within loving heart’s grace.

So that beauty may abound with all hearts around in a loving place to give loving grace in the heart space where love once lived and was given to another to fulfill a dream and uplift a spirit to dream and cast away fate and find unimaginable joy with another’s love, to be entangled in a beautiful tapestry of colorful, creative joy and compassionate kindness to help us find wisdom and beauty around to abound in a rainbow like dream where our thoughts can unwind and our cares fall away like the cocoon of a new growing butterfly’s wing.

To take flight through the grace of a loving Creator’s stroke of a colorful brush of life to breathe and to grow to flow and to know and to be and to see and to give back and never attack but defend to the end without hesitation or trepidation encumbering ways for selfishness pays a recompense that cannot be accounted for when the heart is given away and broken down forgotten about for a short time of thoughtless pacification and selfish abandon of the fortress you used and abused to take flight in the night when you were scared and unprepared to survive or to thrive through the battle of another love-storm where you were forlorn to take from the heart of a man who would live and give and give back and not attack or demand but sit empty and destitute when the war was over because you got yours and were protected by him given dreams fulfilled in the fantasies of your mind to use his loving grace and compassionate face to hold up and show up then throw away when he was a man with empty heart spaces having given but never received because he was never fulfilled or refilled after giving his love and his life to fill your empty spaces you tossed him away like a horse out to pasture with laughter and sought after another to fill your empty heart space because you took his and did not use it wisely and killed his heart like a murdering Jezebel or thief in the night taking what you saw that could get you by for another day with no regard for the hurt you left behind and the anguish and pain you filled a loving man’s heart spaces to fall away and have nothing more to give or receive.

But he did not die because his loving Savior replaced the false ugly waste you filled in the place of his empty heart space.

You killed me and left me for dead because my heart was hurt but I gave it to you to refill the empty spaces taken from the abuse of the man before me and you killed my heart and took my children and trashed my name when all I ever did was work hard and fill the empty spaces in your heart.

But you got filled up and fulfilled and then you saw chinks in my armor that were put there, battling for you, battle scars to save you from a monster who abused you and I only loved you and gave my life to you and when I was battle weary you cast me away like an old worn out shoe or a battle scarred coat of armor that once shined to protect your gentle and loving heart.

I gave my strength to you to use to rebuild your esteem and when you sprouted up, back into life, you cast me away like an old broken down tool and took our children and played out a new narrative to pacify your mind after having destroyed my esteem after I gave you my all and all of my love to you without asking anything in return.

And I self medicated so that I could be strong for you but you did not want to understand why or give a thought about how I could do that to give my heart space out of compassionate grace to an angel in need a beautiful princess whose beauty I found unimaginable and so I gave my heart to it because she was in need such beauty to see and to love and to receive and give back in return for she was the passion I desired in love and it came without bounds and filled my empty heart spaces when I was broken down and hurting and trying to fill my heart spaces with something good and her beautify and love fit me like a glove in those spaces so nice and made me feel like a prince.

Alive once again to take flight on the wings of a dove to get my life back and attack all that had gotten me down until I almost drowned in my own iniquity and sorrow having lost at loves battle from a woman who promised for eternity to be honest but did not fulfill the bill and used her free will to kill my heart and ill my life to take from me my livelihood grace and demand more from the courts like a whore where she wrote laws and forced law and like cat paws on my skin to cut within and give pain and drain me from my resources so that she could fill her empty heart places with things she did not understand or try to comprehend until the end as she covenanted with me and the angels on high through God’s grace pacify my wounds she would not but took from me like a hook in fishes mouth to lead and bleed from all that I needed to keep her pacified until I die she will always deny the truth she abused from a loving man’s heart that she killed with a knife like a thief in the night.

I gave what they demanded of me to pacify their needs to fulfill their heart’s dreams not asking for anything in return, nor expecting anything to be paid back but all I got was abuse from the lack of love to be given to fill my heart’s empty spaces after letting them lean on me and fill their empty heart spaces with my love to combine and move forward in time without me, to be free, cast away like a flea, to never be remembered or given honor in heaven, just to be used and abused to be amused in life without strife not a wife or a husband to be loved with the beauty above but ugliness on the ground all around to expound upon his giving grave when you tossed it all back in his face to make haste with a race you could not keep up nor sleep up in time with a fellow not mellow whose beauty unkind not like mine to use and abuse throughout time.

But I will not forget the morning sunrise to recollect and ponder upon a perception you asked how could a love last as it was given to you to fill your empty heart’s place like a puzzle from grace from the space that we made and had when we were glad about life without strife coming down to abound all around our hearts measure to never deliver the deceiver within with a pen to take down to the end and give back in attack when your heart’s Cadillac could not track the traces upon faces you left ingratiated.

There are times in my mind when I find so unkind the love of a Jezebel who put me through hell to dwell upon cases out of court without braces.  To pacify a need in time with mine taken from my heart spaces, the children we love, who fit us like a glove to love and give love but you used it to attack like cat scratch on a mat that left me to bleed and supersede the throng that went on and on in my mind throughout time never again to be born or forlorn from a heart’s loving grace to make emptiness space.

And if it were not for the grace of a loving son’s face, my savior he saved me from societies game.

The love and compassion from my greatest brother from above, the great I am, yes indeed  Sam I am, with green eggs and ham.  He pacified my lonely heart’s break never again to undertake a carpenter’s will without bill or some skill to be used and abused without will to fulfill until the last day when we all pray for blessing above to help us to recover enough to be strong and unwind without bounds to be around and not frown but remember the loving uncovering endeavor you took to make space without grace in his face.

And it’s time to unwind from your  mind second time to give rest to all recompense to get love when lost love was taken to trash that you trashed for your won battle axe

And now it is time to unwind and dine upon feast without grief like the thief she gave relief from a good loving man whose hand was bound to the ground for monetary’s sake must we break bread to undertake the pain of love lost for a scorn.

And now you are confused because you abused without muse or pacification all around like a clown showing off with a frown to be sad and not glad.  To under achieve for a need for your greed to succeed to be trained and left out to hang out and be without but not without love from above to help a man who has a plan but you demand an agenda from on high that abides like a mouse in his sleep to keep me from knowing, not growing and lonely forlorning like a glove from a dove this amount does not count and again you are confused by rules that you enforce with divorce.

Rights taken but not given will live on in Heaven where love will abound without you like a clown in need, yes indeed my pretty princess subside.

But if you will with your skill try to fill my bill with a thrill I will allow you to explain with the pain that remains because Christ has come over me from Christi to Erica Gandy and I am allowed to be proud and not let my mouth give a frown.  To be undone to undermine is not the cause because love was given then driven into the ground without women.

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Stay High

14 02 2016

mc5I 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.





Two more images

3 05 2011

This one I call ‘I against I’.  I made a mistake and began to fill it in with colored pencils and hated the results.  Wish I hadn’t done that!

This is a portrait of a friend of mine, Dave Norton.  I met him years ago in Provo, Utah.  He is the younger brother of one of my neighbors and we became friends.  He was only sixteen years old, I was ten years older but he had some serious life experience under his belt and he was searching for something, I found him to be a sincere and talented young kid.





Daniel Johnston

29 03 2011

DanDaniel Johnston is one of my favorite artists.  If you’re unfamiliar with his work, to see one of his drawings or listen to one of his recordings you likely wouldn’t be terribly impressed.  But after hearing more of his work it becomes apparent that Daniel Johnston is an inspired visionary.  He is not the best performer in comparison to some more accomplished artists but if you have an understanding of what Daniel Johnston is about and what he lives for, his performances take on a whole new meaning.

Art and music flow from Daniel like water down the Nile.  He is unstoppable and it is as though he can’t help but create music and art.  He has many recurring themes throughout his art, mostly of battles between good and evil and the same themes run through his songs.  Much of what he sings about has to do with his affection for a never gotten love interest named Lori.   He met her in his youth and followed her with a video camera as his way of worshiping and admiring her.  He did get her to say, “I love you Danny” but that was only to satisfy him and she eventually went on to marry an undertaker who he used as the subject of many songs.

His mother would lecture him endlessly about his slothfulness and call him an unprofitable servant of the Lord (he would call himself an unserviceable prophet) as he spent all of his time drawing, writing and recording.  Daniel grew up with faith in his religion and a profound fear of hell and damnation.  He spoke often of Satan and the torment of the devil in his songs and in his conversations and lived in fear of losing his soul.  One therapist said about Daniel, after analyzing his drawings, that he is surely going to heaven because it’s obvious he has already been to hell.

Daniel finally realized one of his life long dreams by accident when MTV profiled the Austin music scene in the mid eighties.  Dan worked his way in front of the cameras, was interviewed and eventually given a spot live on MTV performing his songs.  The world was finally introduced to Daniel Johnston and his career began to bloom. But Daniel perceived the experience as a dichotomy or paradox in that MTV was serving the devil but there he was on MTV, just like he said he would as a kid.

When Dan was still pretty young he began to develop bi-polar disorder which became so severe he spent a lot of time in and out of many mental institutions.  He changed suddenly from a happy and care free young boy to a troubled and self loathing youth.

When he was in New York City spending time with the members of Sonic Youth he had a severe episode and was again sent to a mental facility.  He was accidentally released on a clerical error and found himself at CBGB that evening and opened up for the LA band fIREHOSE.

Daniel Johnston had many extreme episodes of mania where he would essentially lose touch with reality.  One time he was in his father’s private airplane, his father piloting and he turned the engine off and threw the keys out the window.  The airplane crash landed in the trees and both were uninjured.  Another time he whacked his manager over the head with a lead pipe three times.  Daniel has been quoted as saying, “I whammed him, I whammed him good“.  After these episodes he again found himself committed to mental institutions where he realized the horror of what he had done.

As Dan got older and into his forties he went back to living with his parents, taking his meds and focusing on writing and playing music.  Dan tours the world and elsewhere performing his music to the delight of devoted fans.  Sometimes his shows are sub-par and sometimes they are purely brilliant.  True fans love his performances either way.

God bless Daniel Johnston.  The poor man has been tormented all of his life and he has produced some amazing art and beautiful songs.  Over 400 artists have covered his music including Beck, fIREHOSE, Sonic Youth, Death Cab for Cutie, Tom Waits, David Bowie, Built to Spill and Pearl Jam.

Daniel’s life has been chronicled in the movie “The Devil and Daniel Johnston“.  It spans over twenty years of Daniel’s life as he had recorded most of his life on video and audio tape.  Learn more about Daniel Johnston at his fan site rejectedunknown.com

(some images used without permission of the artist)





The Godfathers of Guitar

18 02 2011

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.





Stop throwing rocks!

4 02 2011

I’m just a dumb American sitting in my dumb lazy chair clicking through the TV channels and judging the rest of the world’s affairs, raising my blood pressure, working on a heart attack and doing my best to trigger the cancer my genes are supposed to kill me with, stuffing myself with GMO food, helping to evolve my progeny into the destruction of this lovely mother planet of ours. What do I know, right? I’m the problem! I’m the Zionist fool who justifies the rightful owners of this world to rise up in rebellion against our progress and fanciful dreams of comfort and lavish living!

Nonsense I say! And George Soros, you need to shut the hell up. Open society, schmopen schmesiety!

I couldn’t NOT say something here about what’s going on in Egypt after reading Soros’s column in the Washington Post, blaming Israel again for the unrest in the Middle East. That’s like saying the uprising in the inner cities of America in the seventies and eighties was a result of white authoritarian government policy designing and pumping crack cocaine into the fabric to keep them in their place in hopes that some genocidal civll war within that community would rid us of the issue altogether. Yeah, people actually believe that stuff!

Regardless of all the atrocities perpetuated by either side of the Israel/Palestine conflict, the reality here is that Muslim or Islamist ideology, the factions, the movements of ideology against Zionism and toward Muslim rule have got to be put in check. There is no place for it in this world.

Whether you agree with Zionism or think it’s a bunch of kooky mythology or whatever you believe Zionism means, don’t listen to the Muslim Brotherhood, and certainly don’t listen to the Islamist radicals and what they would tell you it means. They have a convoluted perception of EVERYTHING that goes on in this world. It astounds me that anyone would give sympathy to their cause (there is a difference between empathy and sympathy). When people sympathize with them, it feeds them to rise up and destroy what peace is already hanging by a thread. They are nothing more than a powder keg of malcontentious hatemongers looking for a reason to destroy any peaceful progress this world makes. They lack the ability to progress or prosper; to grow, to mend, to heal, to love, to nurture. All they know is destruction, anger, war, hatred and conflict. They want nothing more than to dominate those around them. They want to dominate women, children, any free thinking or creative energy that is produced anywhere; they create reasons to oppose it. And they don’t speak in reason, they speak in rhetoric. Their leaders will not answer questions, they will not address issues, they will only point fingers, spotlight anything they can find to be a seed of conflict and make it their cause.

And the worst part about this is that bleeding hearts around the world, as well intentioned as they are, fall for this rhetoric as easily as a moth flies into the flame of a candle and is burned to a crisp. Why? Because the foundation the bleeding hearts of this world have supported themselves on has always been from the causes of victims. And who are the biggest victims in this world? The people who cry the loudest. They blame everything that is happening around them and take no responsibility for what is happening within them. Because we are all responsible for what we create and it is up to us to take control and make things right if we stand in opposition of our environment.  That’s what living is all about! Fighting battles out of anger and revenge are not solutions. Fighting battles to stop a greater destruction than the one you are creating by getting into battle can be justified. But these malcontents don’t look for solutions, they look to destroy and create havoc around them because they know nothing else. They create their world of what they know, of what they believe, of what they feel. It is their reality and they believe it so strongly and their influence is felt by all bleeding hearts who, while they are well meaning, are founded on false principles.

There are many cliches and parables to describe what I mean. When you have nothing to stand for, you’ll fall for anything. If you don’t have a solid balance of spirit, mind and body then when things get dicey the lowest common denominator is conflict, and that’s where it ends up most times with groups who are on shaky foundation built on disagreement, victimism and rhetoric.

A man who builds his house on a foundation of sand, when the storms and tempests come, he loses his house, and all that he has built up, because the foundation never was solid. The sand is false principles. While well meaning and attractive in appearance, it supports structures while there is no opposition eroding it and it seem to do a fine job supporting everything built on top. But when real issues arise, that foundation cannot support against the eroding waves, stormy weather and earthquakes that concrete, rebar and steel can withstand.

Do I need to continue? This is just peeling back a small corner of the patch that covers the truth of what is happening in this world. You can ‘yeah, but’ all you want. I’m right. If you don’t like it I welcome your retort. That’s what makes America great. We can debate without it eroding into a fight. That’s what progress and education does for a society. Open minds can grow and breathe. Change can happen when people embrace knowledge and understanding instead of standing on false principles that result in discomfort, strife and do nothing more than support you in feeling angry and opposed to something.  But if you do want to debate, please don’t make me repeat myself.  I’ve said a lot in here.  If I have to repeat myself to argue with you then you’re not paying attention.

Stand for what you believe in, nurture it and spread that truth to make the world a better place. If it leads you to argument and conflict with others then you’ve found yourself at a dead end and you need to back up and find out where you got off course.





That old familiar unknown demon

21 12 2010

Keep in mind as you read this that I wrote it at the lowest of lows in my life, but it was honest at the time I wrote it.  Life is not this gloomy for me, but there is much truth to how I express myself in this post.

I have spent the better part of my life succeeding at mediocrity. There have been times when I have been a part of something great but never anything I’ve done on my own. I’m not sure why that is. I see other people going for their dreams and making things work, I’m missing something, that’s for sure.

I’m one of the most self-sabotaging people to have ever walked the face of this earth. I have great ideas, wonderful plans, a great big giant heart full of love, and I just wind up pulling the trigger while I’m staring down the barrel of the gun. I have some sort of character flaw, a defect, a loose screw or something wrong somewhere inside me because I am so prone to order turning to chaos around me. It’s like I attract it. Wherever I go, it’s like a bomb gets dropped and I’m standing there waving to everyone, wondering why they’re pissed off that a bomb just exploded, disrupting their otherwise orderly lives.

Therapy! That’s what I need, I need some professional mind bender to sit and listen to me carry on and on about all the things that plague me about my life. I’m not sure what that will do but I certainly could use an objective ear to lay out everything that’s on my mind, it’s swirling around in my head like a storm with waves crashing down on my thoughts and sinking my ability to progress.

Words used to flow from my mind clearly and smoothly like a river running down a mountain canyon, but now I feel like I can hardly put two thoughts together before I forget where I’m going and get stuck. All I can do is keep moving forward one step at a time, even if it’s just literally walking one step at a time. Something has got to give some time. The people in my life have an impossible time understanding what makes me tick or what motivates me, they’re at their wit’s end with me and don’t have the energy to even invite me into their lives anymore. I’m sure they miss the old me, and so do I.

The downward spiral all started when my marriage fell apart. I really haven’t been able to put myself back together since that happened. I surely could have done things differently, but I took the path of least resistance because I am someone who tries to stay away from conflict. That might sound very contrary to some who have lived with me in the past because I used to be very confrontational at times, but that’s another part of my mental disorder. I like to keep things peaceful, but I would point out everything that I felt was out of order around me. I don’t do that any more, I used to be that way. Maybe that’s why I feel like I’m so lost is because I have let go of the control I used to require to keep myself feeling right about life.

Being so controlling is tiresome work, and it hurts the ones you love. I learned the hard way to let things be as they are. I’m learning still every day and I’m full of flaws but the one thing that plagued me, that just ate me up inside at those times of quiet when it was just me and my thoughts, was my quick temper, my quick reaction, the intimidating sound of my voice that I would use to keep the kids in check, I’m so embarrassed and ashamed of ever being that person.

I learned that in my home growing up, but I knew better. For some reason I carried it on right into my marriage. It is the very reason I screwed up so many relationships and why I was single until I was close to 30 years old. Then my poor wife had all of my pent up frustration and anger to deal with, and I laid it right on her. Everything she did that I thought was odd or quirky or weird I pointed out. And she wasn’t just some regular woman either. She had come from a big family with an abusive father and a passive mother in a relatively small town where everyone put on the facade of perfection and kept the troubles bubbling just below the surface so she had one mode in public, then at home it was fear and intimidation and sneaking around, keeping secrets so you didn’t get yelled at or made the target.

Then once we got married that’s exactly how I made her feel all over again. I didn’t know I was doing it, she didn’t know I was going to do it, I didn’t know what I was doing, I was just going through life trying to be a husband and a father to two young girls, earn a living and I just went from day to day trying to survive. I had better times but for the most part my frustration was always boiling over in some way or another. My wife and the two girls basically feared me because they never knew when I was going to be angry. If I could have just been patient and been nice, things would have been fine. That’s all, just patient, allowing things to take place as they do, think through before reacting, being kind, the things I’ve learned the hard way since the divorce. Now I can’t go back and apply them because I’ve fallen so far backwards into whatever my life has become that I’m stuck here floundering and wondering if this is punishment or just opposition to something I’m supposed to learn from.

It’s easy to say I’m confused, I’ve always been confused about things. I’ve always had conflicting thought patterns running through my head, always, all my life. When I talk about how things were in my childhood my parents cringe and they don’t react well to me expressing the unpleasant memories I hold inside me. I want them to be happy with me but the truth is that they really just want me not to be any trouble. They don’t really feel a sense of pride in anything I do or who I am, they just want me not to be a screw up. That’s the funny thing, being told all my life I’m so full of potential and talent and being treated like everything I’m doing is wrong. It gives a person a huge inferiority complex and that is what I deal with every day.

I have a real problem with my self worth, self esteem. I know I have a bunch of talents but there are people out there who can do things better than me, so why am I even necessary? That’s the sort of twisted thought process that goes on in my head. When I want something I can make it happen, but when it comes to fitting in, that’s not something I’ve ever done very well. I don’t fit in, I stand out. And that’s something I don’t understand. I try to blend, but I stand out, I always have.

So here I sit at age 45 feeling like a child, full of guilt and second guessing everything I have ever done, wallowing in the failures that I have endured throughout my life, but still wanting something better. Why do people think I have anything to offer, why do people think I have something great or anything of any significance? I guess I’ve just run myself down, maybe this is what they call a nervous breakdown. The truth is that there is this nucleus burning hot at the core of my soul that is made of the pure essence of loss. Maybe I’m just weak, maybe I don’t have the backbone to survive what life throws my way, but I just can not get past the divorce.

It’s not losing my wife that has me feeling so sad, it’s the failure of the family that kills me. The one thing that is central to this life, most important above anything else, I wanted to be a protector and provider for my family and when it fell apart I didn’t know how to go on, I didn’t know how to play my role anymore. I didn’t have a purpose anymore. The single man that I once was had evolved and could not go back, but when I did I didn’t know how to do it, and I did what I remembered doing at the age I was when I was single before. And I made the same choices, as if I were in my twenties again. I just can’t get over the fact that I’m not living under the same roof with my children. Sure, I could have made time, made the sacrifices and done the regular split-family thing and taken them when it was my time, back and forth, and I did that for years but it just was not the same. The poor children had a broken family, a broken home, it wasn’t fair to them to have to live this way, I just felt it was so wrong deep to my core, it’s so wrong and just does not sit well with me.

I think that is my main problem, I just feel like my family is so screwed up and I’m responsible for it but it’s out of my control and I have let it get out of control and because I let it go it crushed my heart and all I could do to survive day to day was to numb the pain with medicine.

People have a broken bone, they get medication to ease the pain. It’s obvious, it’s right there in front of them, you can see it in an x-ray. I suppose I could just go through life with the pain bothering me every day, gnawing at me and distracting me, but I was so overwhelmed by it that I had to do something to ease the pain. People don’t understand, it’s not something that can be measured, it’s not something that can be found in an MRI, or x-ray, but it’s as real as a tooth ache or torn ligament. But because I have this handsome appearance and I have a physically strong body and I can be charming and intelligent when I have to, people have expectations for me, and I have set expectations of myself. But on the inside I’m broken, twisted and hurting, confusion is my middle name and I feel like maybe I should be put in an institution for a mental reboot. The people in my life have no idea how to help me, nor do I have any idea how they could help me because I don’t know what I need. I do know what I want but my life is in such disarray that going for the things I want just seem to be out of focus, obscured by clouds.

I kept it together for years as a corporate IT slave, well I say slave but the truth is that I am very grateful for the years I had working and earning that money to support my family. But they let me go because my life is too complicated for me to fit in the way I need to to make the corporate ship sail on calm seas. My life became completely out of control and everyone around me could see it happening. Of course I tried hard to keep it together, to make it seem like I was just going through a mid-life crisis, excusing my immature behavior or indulgence with younger women by joking and saying I was following in my father’s footsteps as he had divorced my mother and married a woman my age.

I want to be left alone to do as I please, sure that’s every man’s dream. But at the same time I want the approval and admiration of those I admire and love. I want to do something to make the world a better place. I don’t want to be noticed for doing it, but I want to give the world something great, that’s what’s boiling inside of me and has been since I was a kid. I guess sifting through all this confusion, writing all of this has brought me back to the place I once found myself a couple of months ago, where I am free to do as I please, to create my world and make things happen as I desire them.

I need to change some things, but those things that need to change are things I’m not sure of. That’s why I need the therapy. So I’m going to keep on writing, blogging, maybe I’ll write a book, I need to do something productive with my life if I can’t keep it together enough to hold down a job until my head gets fixed








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