WTF?! WTF, indeed?!

I haven't felt well in over a month. My heart has been doing something weird. Now, I have this springtime cold that I can't shake. I have a fever today and feel like shit.
My attempt at connecting with someone on a deeper level has come to a screeching halt. Why? Fuck if I know. It's insane for someone to tell you they love you one night and then wake up the next morning and tell you they no longer feel that way. No reason. Then they tell you they want to work on it, whatever IT is ("If you want to work on us, I really do too!!!!!") and won't call, email or answer their phone for a week.
I'm disgusted with the human race. Nobody knows what they want and they don't mind dragging your heart into the maelstrom.
I hate sounding negative, but this is my blog and this is how I honestly feel right now.
AAARRRRRGGGHHHH!!!!
Why is there someone for everyone except me? Am I that horrible? Boring? Poor? Stupid? Ugly? Do I have no redeeming qualities?

"Oooh, baby, baby, it's a wild world..."

The world feels like a chaotic, cold, harsh place today.
Everything is still up in the air with my latest attempt at a relationship.
I didn't sleep well at all last night.
I had one of my fits of tachycardia at work (a "spell," my dad would have said). And there was a weird vibe in the air among the crew. Or maybe my mood was affecting my perception...
On the way home, a rock, from the bed of a big dump truck flying by in the opposite direction, decided to make its escape just in time to hit my windshield. Hard. It now has a crack.

I don't want to die alone. There, I said it.
Why can't anyone care about me?

Kinda F. H. Watercolor and ink. 1983.

 

Water color and ink. 1983.

 

My dad. Drawn in 1976, when I was 15 - shortly after he passed away.

 

Madame M. Water color and ink. Painted in 1983.

 

Painted in 1986. Water color and ink.

 

My friend Tommy.

 

The back cover of "When Two Worlds Nearly Collide."

 

R.I.P. DIO.

 

I just heard that heavy metal legend Ronnie James Dio has died. He was a little guy with a great big voice.
So long, Ron Jim.

Same ol', same ol'.

I'm feeling a bit sad tonight.
I met someone interesting and unique. We were getting along well. He lives out of town, but we managed to meet, briefly - twice. He asked me, just the other night, if I realized that we had talked every night, on the phone, for the last 3 weeks. I didn't. I knew we had been talking, but tempus was really fugiting!
He was supposed to come down to see me this weekend, but a last minute scheduling change meant he had to work Saturday afternoon. I, instead, drove to Fayetteville to see him. I left yesterday evening, stayed the night and came back this afternoon. From last night to this morning, everything changed. Just like that.
Same ol', same ol'.
I came home and deactivated my facebook account and closed out an account in a chat room I had been frequenting. I'm sick of people. I just need a break.
I'm afraid that it's just going to be me and my dog. Maybe forever. What am I talking about - forever? I no longer have a forever. For my remaining years... How's that?

TBOS. A New Day.

Dalva: "I'm ready. It's over! Man, what a day! Another day, another dollar."

And The Spell amused us by making comical faces and doing geek imitations. Even Dalva was amused.
Dalva: "Ha, ha, ha! Lord have mercy! What a laugh! Damn enjoyment! Man oh man oh man! What a day! What a day that will be!"

And Dalva gave us sweet sticks. And The Spell put a stick into His mouth and His nose.
And Dalva did then exclaim "Ha, ha, ha! You missed that one! That was a real barn burner! Oooooo! Ha, ha, ha! I'm dying! Lord bless this boy for the fulfillment of mankind!!"
And Dalva laughed again as The Spell placed a stick in His eye. When I asked The Spell what compelled Him to do these things, He said "Him." Meaning Dalva.
And Dalva said "The Spell religeon!"

And in this jovial camaraderie ends A New Day - and as far as we know, The Book of Spell.

TBOS. A New Day.

And on this day, Dalva threw The Book of Spell onto the floor and stamped upon it. Then he stormed to his throne.
Then he attacked The Spell, yet it phased Him not.

Dalva: "Hey, hey, your ruler broke! Ha, ha!"
And Dalva displayed balls of hair and we were disgusted. And The Spell said "Have you been combing my hair?"

TBOS. A New Day.

The Spell did, on this New Day, thumb through "The Fellowship of the Ring." He did then comment thusly: "This book uses intelligent language."

And on this New Day we were left with this thought: "There's your Ruler!"
None puzzled. All merely accepted.
And I did bow to The Spell in greeting.

TBOS. A New Day.

At the beginning of this New Day I asked The Spell to touch me - and He did.

Spell: "When I die, you'll regret being mean to me. I just don't like the way you keep picking on me. I'm tarred of it! And I'm talking to you, too!"

Dalva: "Why don't you start fighting? Start with me and you won't go any further!"

After this exchange between The Spell and Dalva, The Spell looked at me and smiled. It was then that I knew all was well. All was in order. Then The Spell looked toward Dalva and again toward me and He smiled once more.

Dalva: "Now it's time to kick Spell's behind!"

Spell: "You might kill me by getting somebody else to kill me, but I'll kill you!"

Dalva: "How's he gonna kill me - dead? When Spell says 'Dalva, come down and touch my hand with water', I'll say 'Sorry Spell, young man.' I'll be with the white angels!"

TBOS. A New Day.

Dalva did, on this day, offer us "sweet sticks." He gave one unto me and one unto The Spell and distributed some among the others about us.
I was then asked by The Spell to pit against Him in a cosmic game. I declined when I found out that the competition was originally intended for The Spell and Dalva.
I watched as The Spell and Dalva dove into a game of foresight.

Dalva: "It's a fierce battle. Dog!"
And Dalva won the game by one scoring point. And he did exclaim "I beat Spell! Wa, wa!"
But, The Spell's expression did not change. Nor did our feelings toward Him.
I spoke with The Spell, after the competition. He said "Alena...no, you're Capra! No...I forgot which one you are!"
Because of His divine plan, we lowly scribes still know not which is which. Only The Almighty Spell knows - yet, He says naught.

TBOS. A New Day.

Spell: "It is! I KNOW it!"

Dalva: "I never knew you would do such a thing."

And The Spell drew a picture of a deformed bird and Dalva labeled it "Spell's Mama."

TBOS. A New Day.

Dalva cried "Alright, alright! Ha, ha, ha, ha! Turn around, Dumbo!"

Spell: "I'm tired of you, Dalva!"

And Dalva became a puppeteer and astounded us.
Then he made the sounds of a werewolf.
Then he broke into song.
Then he said "Look at Spell!"
Then he ridiculed His clothing.

Dalva: "Spell, ugghhh! What's a Spell?!"

Spell: "I was wondering what a Dalva was."

Dalva: "Yes, yes, yes!"

Spell: "I am telling the truth!"

Dalva: "Personally, I don't care! I saw Spell and a boy..."

Spell: "I'm tarred of you cutting me down! If you don't stop, I'm gonna do something about it!"

And Dalva did then try to acquire an important object from The Spell by saying "Money talks!"

TBOS. A New Day.

And Dalva said he had something heavy on his heart. And The Spell said, "Dolly Parton has something heavy on her heart."

TBOS. A New Day.

Spell: "Where is Union?"

TBOS. A New Day.

Dalva: "Who is that? It ain't me, you blowed up pig!"
This was Dalva's reaction to the grotesque image that The Spell did draw. And Dalva did respond in kind by drawing an image that he would have us believe was The Spell. And upon seeing the image, The Spell said, "Dalva can go to hellva. Huh, huh, huh..."
Dalva moaned.

And it was this day that The Spell chose to give unto us His symbol : ?
And He said unto us, "I swear, we out to bury this stuff in glass jars."

Dalva: "Hot child in the city...do you have...no, you don't. Spell, the four headed pig! Ain't nobody told me to stop, either."

Spell: "Way before your time. Is it mine or your grandma's?"

Dalva: "It's mine! You see that, don't you boy?"

Spell: "I can't. My eyes are above it."

Dalva: "Gonna see your mama tonight, Spell! She's so fine! Spell, when you go home, tell your mama I'm gonna see her! And don't say nuthin' back, either!"

And on this day, The Spell named the scribes. And their names were Alena and Capra. But, we knew not which was which.
And Dalva laughed.
And The Spell laughed.

TBOS. Friday, October 13.

The Divine Word of The Almighty Spell came to us this day.
Spell: He said it, so it must be true.
Thanks to Him, we now know that it is better to speak in a low monotone (mumble), with a blank look on one's face, while partially reclining (slouching), than to stand straight and deliver a clear message in a strong, clear voice, for this could be construed as arrogance as opposed to meekness (lack of self confidence?).

The scribes are in the process of preparing a book of His sayings. Also in this book will be dialogs between The Spell and His friend/nemesis - Dalva. When quoting these two great entities, the scribes will make every effort to correctly put upon paper the very words spoken. What these words mean is known only to The Spell and Dalva. We know to question not that which is greater than us.

Spell: "I know what I can do, but I ain't gonna tell you what I don't know what I can do."
Spell: "I've got to have a copy of that. Yeah..."

Dalva: "Y'all said."

And Dalva took the sacred pen and he struck The Almighty Spell, but it phased Him not.

Spell: "Dalva, one and two equals three."
Spell: "Have y'all got ESP or something?"

Dalva: "They say, 'Oh, I believe in The Spell.'"

And Dalva tried to mislead the scribes by saying, "You must go and kill a cow and eat it raw."

Spell: "You must build a time capsule so that the future will have my truths. So have I done."

Dalva: "It best not be!"

Spell: "To be or not to be Me."

Dalva: "I've got to be me! My friends all fall by the wayside."

Spell: "I have many friends that don't fall by the wayside."

Dalva: "What did he say?! What did he say?!"

Dalva did then pretend to quote The Spell by insisting He said "Damn, Sam! The boy called me!"

And the sounds that Dalva did then utter were terrible. The Spell stared at him, with a blank look in His eyes.

The Book of Spell.

The writings in this book are true. The Spell asked that he read them to determine "exactness," in order to insure that none be led astray.

In all Great Experiences there are Positive and Negative energies - and energies that may, at first, appear to be neutral.
These "scribblings," if you will, are representative of a particular point in time. The Truths transcend time itself.

Introduction to The Book of Spell.

When I was in high school - I think maybe a freshman - my friend Russell and I had a class with a guy named ----- Spell. While he was rather intelligent, he exhibited some unusual mannerisms. Bear in mind, we liked him, but he was just kind of an odd duck.
There was another unusual character in that class who would sometimes antagonize Spell. We began to see these two class mates in a mythological light. Good and Evil. Light and Dark. We began keeping a journal of the things they said and did with each other - and us. We began referring to the antagonist as Dalva, for a couple of different reasons, and called our journal "The Book of Spell."
As Russell and I were but lowly scribes, our verses were to be referred to as "Scribblings..."

Dreams Die Hard liner notes.

I don't really know where to begin.
2007 was a bad year for me. It began at the end of 2006, actually, when I was hospitalized a couple of times because of a worsening heart condition. I had quit my steady job of 12 years, partially because of my health and partially to start a business with my then partner. In 2007, while I was attempting to recuperate from my illness and medical procedures, the relationship and the business fell apart. Within the the space of a year, I had 4 different jobs, including the business - instead of the steady employment I had known before. Then someone totaled my car. During this time of upheaval, I don't think anyone knew how close I came to throwing in the towel - so to speak.
Thank goodness for my friend Chuck. Maybe he sensed the state I was in. I dunno. He came over with his recording gear and said "let's work on something." You know, just trying to keep my spirits up.
Like I said, thank goodness for him.
So, that's how this recording came about.
I wasn't feeling well at all, especially at the beginning, but we set a casual pace and carried out our sessions in my living room. I had written a few songs in the hospital and while recovering at home. And I had some songs that had been lying about for nearly 30 years. So, we started knocking them out.
I used 4 different guitars on his project. None of them were high quality (to be diplomatic), one was broken, one was a small scale beginner's model and all were borrowed - as I had no acoustic of my own. Somehow it all seemed apropos.
I just wanted to mention that the song "Brothers in Search" was written, in the late 70s, for my friend Tommy. Little did I know that within a couple of years, he would be gone. I think about him almost every day.
One other thing: if you listen closely, you can hear a clock ticking in the background on some of the songs. As I said before, we recorded in my home and we kept forgetting to take the clock off of the wall. That also seems fitting, somehow. Like a heart beating. Like time slipping away.
I'm still trying to adapt to this new reality. I'm not the same person I was just a few years ago. I'm having a hard time, but I'm hanging in there. Thank you Chuck for providing these distractions for me. I don't think my late friend Tommy would have minded me inviting you into our club (B.I.S.).

Jimmi Blue 2008

 

 

 

When I was a Live Guy.

 

Me and 3 of my best friends.

 

 

Music for the Deaf

 

Prince Passion Power Wah!

 

Pete Moss and the Water-Sled

 

Not of This Planet

 

So. You think this is easy?

So.
You think this is easy? Getting up each day? Trying to put aside the knowledge that everything is coming apart at the seams and elsewhere? Being alien in your own world?

"I feel so depraved and helpless."

January Morning was as lost as a man could be. He had no spiritual grounding - no firm beliefs in anything. Conviction was a useless word to him. While he had prided himself on not seeing things in black and white, his now constant grey perception was overwhelming. "If you don't stand for something," the bumper sticker read, "you'll fall for anything." Something was calling for him to make a stand - to carve out some tenet - but, he was clueless as to where to begin.

"Who would have thought it would turn out like this?" thought January. He actually thought in complete sentences like that. Sometimes he had conversations with some other personality in his head.
"I would have."
"I doubt that..."
He also dreamt in color. Techno-color. His dreams contained camera angles and edits. January liked order, when he could get it.
"I'm 40 years old," he continued, while rummaging around his closet floor. "I'm divorced, alone, with a dead end job, no family and living just above the poverty level. I'm a lost cause..." he trailed off - this time with no mental second party rebuttal.

January pulled a plastic milk crate out of the deepest recesses of his closet and searched through its dusty contents - trying to find his birth certificate. What he found, however, were some long lost note books - not quite journals - not at all what he was looking for - filled with potentially embarrassing, yet oddly fascinating entries. This discovery, of course, put the original mission on the proverbial back burner. Rather indefinitely.

There was a time when the world was wondrous to him. Full of mystery and magic. Art, music, books excited him. Inspired him. But, that was long ago. Those feelings had been bludgeoned down. He was numb. Passionless. Jaded. Jaded was how he referred to himself. He had long ago opened Pandora's box. Took a big bite out of the apple. You can't close that box. You can't put that apple back on the tree.
Citing the indigenous fruit in the region in which they think Eden existed, some theologians say it wasn't an apple at all, but a fig. Some say if it says apple, then it was an apple. Some religious folks are nuts...

I wish...

I wish I was 28, but knew everything I now know. I wish chocolate was really good for you. I wish I could see California, New York City and Europe. I wish I had gone to college. I wish my dog would stop peeing and shitting on the floor. I wish my house wasn't falling down. I wish I had powerful water pressure - especially in the shower. I wish I could lose some more weight. I wish my mailbox would no longer be filled with junk mail. I wish I could have a real cup of coffee. I wish I had a Dodge Dakota pick up truck. I wish I had a good mattress set, with some 1000 thread count sheets. I wish I could meet Lou Reed and Patti Smith. I wish I had the time and money to paint and record music. I wish I worked in an intellectual and artistic environment. I wish Timbuk 3 would get back together. I wish the government would enact some kind of health care reform that would actually benefit poor people. I wish I could perform live again. I wish...

 

 

Old man in a big truck.

I was driving behind a huge pick-up truck once. It had a king cab, a long bed, 4 wheel drive and a camper - and on the tailgate, these things were neatly painted:

"We need another Hazel." (Referring to a particularly strong hurricane that wiped out most of the homes on the local beaches, back in the 50s..)

"Your body - use it or lose it."

"Join the 80 club."

"I brake for turtles."

"God bless America."

"Keep on truckin'."

"No NC lottery."

"I drove a truck in North Africa in WWII."

Words.

Perspicacious: Keenly discerning/understanding. Sharp sighted.
(Noun: perspicacity)

Perspicuity: Clearness of expression or style. Lucidity. Perspicacity.
(Perspicuous: Having the quality of...)

Mythologize Your Life

Mythologize your life
Did I tell you 'bout the time? (Yes, you told me 'bout the time...)
Mythologize your life
Causing planets to align in these memories of mine.

He said, she said, they said, we said.
He did, she did, they did, we did.

Let them see you in the light you choose
Have it all worked out so you seldom lose
Create a grand reality
Your own spec-tac-u-lar cosmology.

Mythologize your life
Did I tell you 'bout the time? (Yes, you told me 'bout the time...)
Mythologize your life
Causing planets to align in these memories of mine.

(Starring in your own retelling. Make it seem so compelling.)

Promote yourself - create an image
Put a spin upon your limits
Reveal a vision they're dying to see
A study in i-con-o-graphy.

Mythologize your life
Did I tell you 'bout the time? (Yes, you told me 'bout the time...)
Mythologize your life
Causing planets to align in these memories of mine.

He said, she said, they said, we said.
He did, she did, they did, we did...

I met someone today. Cinco de Mayo.

I met someone today who really seems special. We only had an hour or so to talk. We walked down the beach and sat on a bench. We've been communicating, for some time now, through emails and on the phone, so I felt like I already knew him. It just seemed so natural. And when he had to go, I didn't want him to.
At this point, I'm thinking to myself: now what?

Chuck and me.

This is a picture Chuck took of us, not long after I got out of the hospital in 2007.
I had a heck of a time scanning it and posting it - mainly because when it comes to technology, I'm an idiot. I managed to make this work out, but don't ask me how. I sure didn't learn anything. The next photo posting will be the same combination of stumbling around and dumb luck. Anyway, as much as I hate it when he sticks a camera in my face, I'm glad he took this - and I'm glad I got this up. It's me and my best friend.

 

I've been thinking...

I've been thinking, lately, what a coward I am, artistically. I've been trying to record some of my thoughts and experiences, but I'm intentionally leaving out all of the good (bad?) stuff.

Around 2002.

I'm at work. I'm sitting in my office. It's the middle of July. I'm on my lunch break.

I feel odd today. Kind of apprehensive. Sort of depressed and weird. My cousin was convicted of 3 counts of brutal rape recently, I'm told. We grew up together. We rode bikes and raced our turtles. I guess he just lost his mind. Went too far. He became an animal. Or something. Who knows?
But, that's not it. I've been facing my own mortality. Every time I feel my heart failing I wonder: is this it? I know very well that one day it will be.
I want, desperately, to accomplish something before I go. I don't know why.
The sanctity of life has become very clear to me. It's all we have.

I've moved to the break room table. Man, it's hot in here! I'm wondering if I should formalize these entries - add dates and names, etc. If it's read after I'm dead, it won't matter what I say about anyone, will it?

Church sign.

There's a church, down the road, by the railroad tracks, that has a sign out front that recently read "Behold, I stand at the door and knock. Are you deaf???"
Yeah, 3 question marks...

Dec. 29, 2002 (A dream).

Boy, I had a dream last night! I wish I had written it down immediately, because the details have drifted away from me.
Here's what I recall:

I was working on a piece of equipment at the maintenance building (where I work, in reality), with my boss looking over my shoulder. I was about to get a Phillips screwdriver when he says, "You're going to need a Phillips for that." It pissed me off and I said something like "Really?"
The next thing I know (and bear in mind that there was an abundance of dialog in the dream - most of which I've forgotten) my boss and I are looking at the backside of a tee box (I work on a golf course). The turf is scarred up. He asks me what do I think caused that. I tell him it looks like the gang mower scalped it.
We both get down to closer inspect the turf damage and I see a hole. I poke a little and realize there is an enormous cavern under the tee box and we're standing on very thin ground. I say, "Look at this!"
All of a sudden, I'm at a concert. Styx and REO Speedwagon. And I'm with my mother. For some reason, I'm wearing nothing but a tiny pair of bikini underwear - or a swim suit. No one seems to notice. We leave the concert and drive home. Upon arrival I see my nephew way up in the top of a tall tree in the yard. There are fields around the house, like it was when I was younger. Before we can get out of the car, I notice a full grown male lion wandering around. Then I see a large tiger walking around. Then, a smaller cat - maybe a mountain lion or something - comes right up to the car and tries to get at us through the window. I roll it up as fast as I can.
The scene changes and I'm at my friend Fraggle's house - or it seems like a trailer. There are a lot of people there. This one guy I don't recognize says "You don't remember me, do you?" Then he proceeds to tell me some story of how years ago we were riding in a car together and I had a bag of weed. Then he says a lot of stuff I can't remember. I seem to vaguely recall him after he tells his story.
So, Fraggle is siting at this big table with a bunch of people and there's this big sack of weed just lying there. The door opens and my ex-wife's parents come in. Apparently, they know Fraggle through his kid, somehow. Then my ex-wife is there for a moment. I tell her I wasn't trying to be rude, but I just didn't recognize her dad at the wrestling match the other night (this happened in real life). Meanwhile, Fraggle makes no effort to hide the weed.

This dream was jammed with conversation and was very detailed. But, as soon as I woke up...

Dec. 26, 2002 (A dream).

I survived another Christmas.

I had a dream, the other night, that I was coming up, through the woods, into my uncle's backyard. J.M., my cousin, was living there as an adult. He actually did stay there, for a while, with his wife and kids, but he moved, years ago, and my aunt moved back in. Anyway, he was living there, apparently by himself, in this dream. I came up to the back door and knocked. I could hear music playing. It was "Gates of Delirium" from Yes' Relayer album. And, it was an LP playing - I could hear scratches and general surface noise.
No one answered my knock, so I kind of pushed the door open and peeked in. "Anybody home?" I didn't see anyone, so I walked in and began to cautiously go through the house. It was like a maze. I went through a door into the kitchen and there was Sean Penn at the sink, washing dishes. He had something cooking on the stove. I said, "Hey Sean, is J.M. around?" He said that J.M. was out in the driveway.
I walked out and there he was, sort of piddling around in his yard. We walked around his house (which looked like it did before my uncle had it bricked) and talked about home repairs. In the dream, his house was in as bad of shape as mine really is.
J.M. is several years older than me. We were never really very close.