Bye.

 

This is it. (But it's ok.)

I think the time has come. I think it's time to end this thing.
I read, recently, that R.E.M. has broken up - after 31 years. I have alluded, elsewhere in this blog, to the fact that I was a huge fan, in the early years. It's hard to believe that they've been on the scene for over 3 decades. And it was oddly sad to hear that they are no more. I immediately wondered how they knew it was time to move on. How can anyone know? It had to be a tough call.
Same here. I've only been working at TBOGL for a couple of years - but WHAT a couple of years it has been! It has easily been the most tumultuous time of my life - with my dead love life, bad health, depression and unemployment. But the blog was never JUST about those particular concerns. I tried to document what it means to be me - albeit in a condensed, and often homogenized, form. I attempted to cover a slew of eras, and a smorgasbord of emotions. I wanted to say, "This is who I was. This is who I am. This is what I think. This is how I view the world. And this is why."
I'm an Optimistic Melancholic. I experience the world through bittersweet lenses - as it were. If I had to sum up my life in a handful of words, I think that is as close as I could come. I see the beauty, but it's always tinged with an undercurrent of sadness.
My health has been a huge issue in recent years. I had a procedure, in August, that has propelled me into a new phase. It was rough going, at first, but now things seem to be smoothing out a bit. I know, from past experience, that it won't remain this way. As I get older, things will only deteriorate - but, as of today, I'm ok. I'm half the man I was - on a good day (much, much less on a bad day) - but I'm ok. This seems, to me, to be as good a place to conclude "The Bulbs of Glacier Lilies" as any. This doesn't mean I'll disappear completely. I fully plan to begin new endeavors somewhere online. And perhaps elsewhere.
The optimistic side of me wants to make clear the notion behind the name of the blog. There's a poem in the blog, somewhere, that's entitled, "The Bulbs of Glacier Lilies." It has a somewhat different take on the subject and doesn't truly convey the pure and entire message. I guess that's a bit confusing, but, as Frank Zappa once said, "Let me straighten you out." It's about HOPE. It's about those bulbs shooting up through the snow, year after year. That's the message. Hope may be inspired from without, but it blooms from within.
I am Jimmi Blue. I am a walking, talking contradiction. Of my many facets I possess an aforementioned optimistic side. This optimistic side deems it essential to close on a positive note. For anyone who has read this rambling journal, I wish you:

PEACE.
COMPASSION.
LOVE.
And, of course,
HOPE.

Chuck and I. Me and Chuck.

 

Everything (so far) in one place.

All 5 CDs and 1 DVD. I have enough songs for several more, but who knows if I'll ever be able to record again. With all the problems and mistakes, I'm still thrilled that we were able to document this much material. Special thanks to Rick, Bert, Jake and, especially, Chuck.

 

Up, Down, All Around.

 

When Two Worlds Nearly Collide.

 

"If I find that monkey, he's mine..." (Original version.)

 

Youth worshippers. (Painting by H. Flandrin.)

Is it any wonder that we romanticize youth? It is, after all, a time before our minds and bodies have become corrupted by age and knowing. No scars, blemishes or neuroses. Existing in a 99 44/100% pure reality. With a dose of High Drama.
LOVE.
HATE.
GOOD.
BAD.
YES.
NO.
Newly minted humans wear everything on their sleeves. Not knowing how to behave, they act like characters in songs and books and movies. They act as if they are invincible. Immortal. As if their actions have no repercussions. Life is Magic!
Perpetuating the sad/glorious cycle, musicians, writers, film makers and painters, will always revel in Flaming Youth. Just like you and I.
Doesn't that beautiful young man in the painting look as if his girlfriend just dumped him? I think he'll survive - and, in time, join the noble ranks of the emotionally and physically battle-scarred. The Disintegrating Inevitable, if you will.
Bitter-sweet? It breaks my heart...

 

Closing in.

I nearly ended TBOGL, recently, but I realized I had a few more things to post. The end IS nigh, I'm afraid - but that's ok. It feels natural. Organic.
I had a very productive day, yesterday. I reached a compromise with my attorney concerning his (I think) unfair fees. He knocked $512 off of the total and wrote me a check. My sister said he was still "ripping me off," but it felt like a victory to me. I also received my final Social Security back pay check. I actually went to the bank TWICE in one day! (This is after being totally broke for many months.)
I went back to Social Services, yesterday, to have them explain why I received 2 letters, on the same day, which contradicted each other. God, this stuff seems unnecessarily complicated. Then I found an agency that helps "people who fall through the cracks" (That's me!) get medical care and help with their prescriptions. They also assist with dental care, which is great because I've recently developed a tooth ache.
How am I doing, in general? Not counting the tooth, I've been feeling pretty good. I had a weird night, recently, when my blood pressure and heart rate dropped really low - but other than that...
Stay tuned for a for a few more items, and then... the big finale.

Up and down.

The last couple of days have been up and down. I've not been feeling well at all. My heart's been flip-flopping, for lack of a better description. My blood pressure has gotten as low as 83/46. Last night my heart rate dropped to 39. This morning, I woke up with a heart rate of 174. That was not a pleasant experience.
I managed to get a lot done today, in spite of all of my strange health occurrences - thanks to my sister. I saw my primary care physician and had some blood work done. He suggested I contact my cardiologist at UNC. I called and left a message. We went to our local Social Security office and straightened out some issues there. We then went to Social Services with a letter from Social Security informing them of my acceptance. According to the lady at the Social Security office, my acceptance there guarantees my acceptance with Medicare. We'll see. All in all we covered 3 counties.
But, hey, when I got home, there was a check in the mail! My first Social Security money. Thank you Jeebus! (I'm thrilled, even though they extracted $1000 for my lawyer...) I've had this notion in my head, for a while, that I might die before receiving any assistance. Guess I was wrong.
Still not feeling well. I'm gonna turn in soon.

Good news.

Quite a bit has happened in recent months. I have a new pacemaker device, I'm on new medication, I met an 18 year old boy who may be my son, and I've been corresponding with his mother (we lived together in the early 90s).
In the last week, I turned 51 - AND I finally got some positive news about my Social Security Disability appeal: I have been accepted!
My sisters came up with the idea to contact our congressman to see if he could help expedite things, in any way. Within days, I received a phone call telling me that there was a positive response to my claim. Whether this was a coincidence or not, I don't know. I wrote him a letter thanking him for any actions he may have taken on my behalf.
I can't get excited until I see some money (sometime in October), but I can finally see a light at the end of a long, black tunnel. Sure, I'll have to learn to live off of half of what I was making while working, but considering the state I've been in over the last year, it's a giant leap forward.
My health? It's been a bit bumpy. The changes in my meds are playing a part in this, I'm sure. And the new device may need some tweaking. I'll find out when I visit UNC in a couple of months. I'm just glad that I've gotten the procedure out of the way - and that it all went smoothly.
I complain a lot on here, I guess - and that's ok, because it's cathartic. Part of the reason for creating this blog was to have a release valve. It HAS been an extremely trying period of my life (and I'm sure there's more to come). As always, though, I want to document the times when good comes to the fore. I've had some good lately and I'm thankful.
I'm just happy to be here.

"You had to blog about it."

By Mary Nadler.

 

"Mortal " voice over 9.

I am not a religious person. I didn't come to this conclusion - this place - without due consideration. I have been struggling with the big questions since I was 12 or 13 years old. Here's what I do believe, however:
I believe in the golden rule. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. I believe in karma. What you reap is what you sow. Whatever you put out in the universe is gonna visit you. What goes 'round, comes 'round.
Doesn't that make sense? Why do we need heaven when all we have to do is treat people the way we'd like to be treated? Let's have a little heaven now - here on earth, in the only existence we can be sure of.

"Mortal " voice over 8.

There have been some occurrences, in the last few years, that have slammed me face to face with my mortality. Maybe this happens to everyone as they get older - but it sure feels personal. All I can say is I now have a profound appreciation of life and death. Life is SO precious - and death is constantly lurking, ready to strike in an instant, rendering everything you were, everything you are, everything you hope to be or accomplish - moot.
Is it any wonder people cling to love?

"Mortal " voice over 7.

I love the line from The Velvet Underground's "Venus in Furs" that says, "I am tired, I am weary. I could sleep for a thousand years." I understand that world weariness. I feel that way, sometimes - like I could take a millennium nap. Well, as I always say, "Sleep is the new sex."

"Mortal " voice over 6.

I'm a pretty serious person, but I do have a sense of humor. It may be subtle, it may be dark, but it exists. Take the time to get to know me and maybe you'll be able to detect it. Sure, it's bittersweet. There's a sadness behind a lot of it, but I do have the ability to find something to smile about in the human experience. I think that's a necessary tool for survival.

"Mortal " voice over 5.

I have within me, it seems, the ability to kill undying love. The proof is in my cache of old love letters, which are full of such sentiments as, "Nothing will ever change my love for you" and "I will love you forever." These letters were written by MANY different people. They all said that I, at some point, meant everything to them. But, not any more, of course - due to my peculiarly particular aforementioned power: The ability to kill undying love.
What a responsibility to wield such a weapon.

"Mortal " voice over 4.

When I was in my late 20s and early 30s, I was on fire. Inspiration was pouring like rain. Creativity was flooding me. I felt like a shaman. Really. It was like I was receiving messages from god that I was obliged to share with the world. I was overflowing with poetry and music. It just kept coming. Often, I felt as if I could not take credit for what was being produced - it came fully formed, like Athena emerging from the skull of Zeus, screaming a war cry. ART!! The fact that no one else was interested didn't matter. It was in me and it had to come out.

"Mortal " voice over 3.

I never finished high school. I got a GED. I was smart in school and had been enrolled in college prep classes, but I had no one in my court. No one encouraged me. I never went to college.
I got married at 20. I was divorced at 28. I threw myself into the club scene, sex, drugs, alcohol and rock and roll. Lots of everything. I ignored my health. I'm paying for that now.
The late blues man (Fat Possum recording artist) Junior Kimbrough had a song called, "Most Things Haven't Worked Out." That would be a great personal summation. Most things HAVEN'T worked out. Maybe, most things never work out. I dunno...

"Mortal " voice over 2.

I was practically an only child. My brother and sisters were so much older than me that I barely remember any of them living at home. Because I was alone so much, I developed a vivid imagination. I had 3 imaginary friends: Bam-Bam, Sootsie and Caca. When I was older, a friend explained to me what the word Caca meant. It figures. I was so naive.
Often, I would ask my mom if I was adopted. I even had dreams that I was. I just didn't fit in. Whenever my imagination would rear it's brightly plumed head, I would be hushed, knocked down, made to feel ashamed. Is it any wonder that I spent so much of my later life in a self-destructive rebellion?