What do I really want?

  "This is America, no one is here to help you. You are on your own! America isn't even a country any more, it's a business. Now where's my fucking money?!" - Brad Pitts character in a mediocre gangster film I saw on Netflix today.

  That was the last line in the film. Nothing else was worth anything. No character development, some good acting but I don't even know what the story was cause, well, I simply didn't care about the characters. They gave me no reason to care. You know, it's Netflix. A lotta movies you sorta want to see.

  But that last line was brilliant. And maybe the point was made in this film. I don't care, where's my money? I don't care about my neighbor, the government, the world, the economy, where's my money? Money money money money money money money? Where is it?

  Dude, where is my community?

  Americans like to play the victim. It's really strange. There was a study I heard about. It was an examination of chimpanzee life. When we say chimpanzee we tend to think of them as creatures not too unlike us. Patriarchal, they make war amongst tribes etc. Very human. A few genes away from us. In reality before human stupidity intervened in their idyllic world, they were very matriarchal, egalitarian and they shared resources to insure the survival of the species. Then along came some scientist.... "Well, we can study chimps closer if we put out stores of food for them!" What happened next is after being introduced to abundance, or having too much, the became rapidly patriarchal, stopped sharing and started hoarding and became more warlike. In short, they went insane. It begs the question, have we gone mad? Yes, I think we have a long time ago.

  We love to bitch and moan about taxes here. I wonder if we would complain about investing in our own country if we saw any tangible value for our hard earned dollars? We have this outstanding military fighting in lands we don't really care about and that cost us billions of dollars. We have a sorry health care system that forces us to buy insurance from shady corporations (I got insured this year for the first time since I was 19. Within 3 months I got a notice saying they were going to have to raise my premium cause the rising cost of medicines. There is no real reason for the cost of medicines to rise is there? I feel scammed. I feel this stupid system was put into place cause any healthcare system that actually cared about health would be deemed "socialist", like our outstanding military, and the powers that be are failure junkies, nihilist.), our roads are sub-par, public transportation in a non major city sucks and our education system ain't exactly rocking. Not to mention the criminals who nearly destroyed the world economy were given our tax dollars to save it and run the show again. Yes, I'm just as cynical as most Americans about paying taxes though for me it's not about getting more stuff, it's about taking care of one another. I see nothing wrong with that. I want that. I love to help.

  I've talked about this before but will again. When I was a child community was important. We all knew each other on my little street. Then 1979 happened. Cable TV. Goodbye neighbors. Hello new levels of dullness and dis-connection. "Hey you wanna go look for turtles?" "Na, I would but this one cool episode of Gilligans Island is on again...." Heartbreaking. My family got cable 3 years after the fact. By that point I had so much useful resentment towards television I could resist. Plus we didn't have HBO, which guaranteed 2 boob shots per R rated film. And, this was pre-Sopranos. TV sucked. Bad writing, bad outfits, bad ideas, bad acting. It was easy to avoid. Not so easy now. The writing is better, I'm hooked. Community? What's that? Hmmm. Where did we go?

 And speaking of money and my complaining fellow countrymen. The average American watches 4 hours of television a day. In an average American lifetime that adds up to about 13 YEARS OF YOUR LIFE. For a middle class individual that's about a million dollars income. Invested? Double that. No, we are not lazy and we work hard earning for other people, but imagine. 13 years of time when one can be doing something really fulfilling. This week I tracked some of my time. Yes, 2 Netflix movies a day. There's my 4 hours plus whatever else on the interwebs I'm killing time with. It's the ultimate drug. Hmmm. 13 years times 300 million people. That is a lot of time. We can make a better country with all that time. We have no reason or excuse to complain about anything. If we have 13 years of numbing our minds, blowing off our feelings, coping, we have too much. Any of us can use that time wisely to realize our own dreams. And best part? In front of a screen we don't even need to interact with one another!

  Yes, this is a cynical post. And I'm writing it from my own relationship to wasting life. I'm not happy with this. I cannot change the world let alone save it, but I must change my own ways. This isn't the dream I grew up with. The one where I knew my whole block. The one full of hope for a super cool future. I don't like how self centered I am and we are. See, I want to change. I want to help genuinely and I want to feel good about this marvelous piece of land I occupy. And I really don't know what to do. I know I get a good vibe from my neighbors in this building but I don't know any of their names. That's got to change. I need to change that. It's a start. I know that a positive vibe is as infectious as a negative vibe. I want community. Genuine connection. My band gets gigs through meeting people and enjoying a good vibe. Any thing that is really good in my life has come to me that way. Meeting others and saying "I like your shoes, music, vibe".

  I like business. But I do not care to live in one. I'd rather live in a world.

J

Some photographs from beyond....

When I moved from Portland to Los Angeles I threw out roughly 1000 photos. I simply didn't wish to carry them around in boxes. But, I did save some. I'll be posting them here for you to enjoy! J1

                                                 Daphna Kohn, Portland Oregon 2004

                                                      Brooke Crouser, Vancouver BC 2002

                                                   Self Portrait, 1999, Portland Oregon

                                                  Jesse Carrot, 1999, Portland Oregon

                                                 Djin Teeth (Fangs!), Portland Oregon 2005

                                         Charles Street, Baltimore

                                         Charles Street, Baltimore

                                          ???? America, possibly North Dakota.

                                         front porch, Portland Oregon

                                           Douglas Berman, The Baseball Astologer, Portland 2000

                                               The Angel of the North, Newcastle England 2002

                                                Tampere, Finland 2002

                                                  Baltimore Maryland

                                                  Charles Street, Baltimore Md.

                                                        WW1 Memorial, Maryhill Washington

                                                 Los Angeles.

                                          Charles Street, Baltimore Md.

                                          ? Oregon. I call this one cavalry.

                                          France....

                                         Salt.....

                                         Music for all.

                                          Hashish for some.

                                                 John Fleming.

                                                  Steven Wray Lobdel

                                                   Josh Stevenson, Vancouver Washington

                                                  Charles before Dr Seuss Lawsuit

                                                   Lucia Harold, Portland Oregon 2003

                                         Old Man with cane, Brixton England 2002

                                         Michelle, Portland Oregon

                                         Les Petit Rats rehearsal

                                         Les Petit Rats rehearsal

                                         David Parks, Portland Oregon

                                          Jyvaskyla, Finland 2002

                                          Haunted house

                                                  Daniel Higgs, Lungfish, Portland Oregon

                                                  Jocelyn and Brooke. Jomf sessions.

                                                  Angel of the dishes, Colmar France 2002

                                                Sanna Natunen, jyväskylä Finland

                                               Daphna Kohn, Margery Fairchild

                                                   Kyla Czech

                                                   Daphna Kohn

Michael Henrickson

Pedestals are lonely places.

  I've recently been told by a friend that I'm "The Truth", something to do with the music I create and such. I don't find it nice to project such an image onto me or anyone else. There will be that incident some day where I will let you down and you'll see me as I really am, a petty, shallow and greedy being who sometimes makes poor choices, just like the rest of the human beings thank goodness.

  Yes, I have my peculiar spiritual practice, I'm making honest music and I'm generally in a positive place these days and I work hard at creating that space for myself. Taking care of me I can create a better vibe for my friends, associates, students and family to be around. And I am a pretty cool dude, I do my best and that's all I can do.

  I was 20 years old standing on the edge of a rooftop contemplating jumping off cause the girl I was obsessed with rejected me. In other words taking life way too seriously! I only have one memory of her now and that is something she said: "Dude you put me on a pedestal, it's lonely up there and someday you will knock me down". Words of wisdom. I'm grateful for that.

  What did she mean? Well, in my insecurity I flooded her with compliments and praise. Really kinda manipulative, I wanted her to myself and wanted her near me. I was in a state of denial. She was just a human trying to find her way in this mad world and I wanted a companion so badly I was willing to throw myself off a building to prove it. Wow. Glad that's out of my system! Life rocks today!

  So why do we do this? Form images of others and add to those images rather than just accept them? I've watched marriages fall apart after 30, 40, 10, 5 years with both people saying they feel like they don't know their partner. Is that such a bad thing? Isn't it better to be honest and admit you don't really know anyone especially your spouse? You know their patterns, habits, some stuff they say but you don't live in any ones head but your own. And me? I don't even know myself yet. Why would I pretend to know anything about you if I don't even know me? Why not start fresh and admit it every day and see those we love as fresh and alive, ever changing though maybe stuck in some old habits.    
  It's possible so why the "I know you and you are this" whether that is above or below or equal in your mind? Why not let all that go? If you do what happens? You may find you have more energy than you think you do. More energy to create a happy existence. Be greedy for joy, I see no problem with that. And those you disappoint, say sorry and move on. Can't say sorry for ever. Climb on down from that lonely pedestal you were placed upon and live your life the way you want to. You may find it weird and lonely getting off that platform, the comment I spoke of in the first paragraph gave my ego a little boost, I felt a bit of that sense of power. And I regret not saying "please don't do that, it's not nice what you said". In fact I'm waiting for the consequences now. So feel that loneliness and do your work. The one giving the compliment will find their way and you'll find yours.

JB

Happiness....

It takes work to be happy. Maybe not hard work, or maybe for some it is hard work. But what else is there to do really. Maybe joy is found in giving? Giving is receiving and receiving is giving. It's the same action. I give and then I receive satisfaction for giving. I see no problem with this. I wonder why we divide that so much into 2 petty little categories rather than just see it for what it is: just a natural state of being alive and awake.

I was on the subway platform the other day, just finished teaching and was tired but happy. My last lesson was really rewarding. A lady with a nice smile and a heavy Jamaican accent approached me and asked if I spoke English. I knew exactly what she was going to do next, she was going to ask if I've accepted Jesus as my lord and savior. I said no, I haven't and I won't but I'll be happy to pray with you. I liked her vibe so why not. She asked me if I have ever told a lie and I replied "of course I have! Probably every day!" She said some prayer about forgiveness and moved on. I was happy to receive that little prayer and move on myself.

Honesty takes work. I was glad to just be honest in that moment. I've been approached by Christians, Buddhist, Krishnas and other religious folks and I usually get defensive and snarky. I don't like the vibe, but I liked hers. I could be honest about that, pray and move on home. It was the end of a good day.

There's a passage in the gnostic Jesus book, I think it's in the book of Thomas. That's right: doubting Thomas. Though in this book he's simply Thomas, the one who keeps it real cause he answers a question with a question which is what a responsible human needs to be doing (why are children so much better at this than us adults?). 

Anyway, the apostles go to the Jesus and ask him "How does one get to the Kingdom of Heaven? What alms do we give? What prayers do we offer? How do we fast?" The reply was quite simple and I wish I heard this as a child rather than the rules I had been given. The reply? "Do not tell lies and do not do that which you hate for the Kingdom is within plain sight." 

That's something to reach for, or something to be. I'd rather be honest with myself and with everyone else and create heaven on earth than abide by rules someone else laid out. Do what you love and be honest about it, don't worry, be happy and by some mysterious way, you'll be okay. Yes, it's work. It's not being an a-hole your whole life then repenting on your dying day. Some days I fail miserably at this but I'm having better days now that I used to. It's work to forgive myself and others, let go, be honest and present but..... what else is there to do?

J1

We lost?

  Yesterday was election day. I did what I usually do on election day: work, try to eat well, then work some more on music and finish the night off with a good pulp movie. Last nights Netflix feature was about a girls reformatory school in 1950 with some people running it who believed in punishment only and one dude who was a shrink who believed in rewarding people for good behavior and compassion for the one suffering in her force fed patterns. Good prevailed: 2 of the "worst" girls stood up for the rest and refused to be beaten down, they told the truth to the state. Then evil by some miracle of 1950 America was out of a job. Good flick. I enjoyed it. I'd love to see more endings like this in real life. We all need compassion and a break.

  I woke up this morning to see that the Republicans made some major gains. The mood on Facebook seems a bit grim. I can't own a television, that will be the death of me as a recovering news junky, so I get my news through social media.

  You know, of course they won. Our people have no patience. It's a pendulum right? Our president didn't fix our massive problems in 6 years so we the people have spoken. In 6 more years amnesia will rule again and we'll speak again and vote the elephant out again (poor elephant! Why don't they choose a chicken or something else as a mascot, ooh, a mosquito!!!)

  I've lived just long enough to see this pattern again and again but rather than preach about useless politics, I'll just share some of this life.

  For me, the last president I liked was Clinton. 8 years of economic prosperity yadda yadda. He had a positive vibe. I liked that he was upbeat. Me? In those days I was negative central. "$40,000 for that house? That's absurd! Stupid people!!!" Oh I was good at raining on my own parade and raining on other peoples parade then too. I watched the news like a cult follower watches Ernest Angely or one of those creeps. I got off on all the suffering in the world. That was my topic of conversation: people suck, life sucks, all these bands suck, stupidity and greed rule the world.... And this was the Clinton years. The good times! I was young and had a lot of good going on I could not appreciate.

  Then Bush was elected. Then 9/11. Then Iraq. I watched my boss turn more right wing, fearful of gay people, fearful of Muslims, fearful of change, fearful of....me. And I became more righteous. I had a person to blame. I could be angry at him. We fought about Iraq. He listened to Rush Limbaugh on the job and turned off our customers. He grew depressed and so did I. We grew apart. He lost sight as to why we are selling guitars. "What's the point? The world is going to hell." There is no point, that may be the beauty of it all. There is no point so just contribute to someone elses happiness. If they buy a stupid guitar and don't beat their kids as a result of having a little non substance related relief, we have done good in this world. That's what I told him.

  The Bush was elected for the 2nd time. I spent that election night watching a Yoko Ono film of naked asses as they were walking. Very meditative. Butt cheeks swooshing from side to side. Better than watching Kerry get molly washed. Next day was awful. Some pock faced Christian right kids came into the shop and started singing really hateful Jesus songs (no joke) and they smiled at me as they did this. I felt afraid. They were gloating. They were psycho. I had no tools in place to deal with making a proper boundary in those days, but I did have a .45 behind the counter I didn't know how to use. One old man told me years ago just flash it. It's all about the front.... I considered it and they left anyway. Got bored I suppose. I didn't choose to argue or engage them in any way.

  But something was changing in these negative times. A year later I opened my own business and decided to explore prosperity. A year into that I went cold turkey on my news watching and after the harsh withdrawal, I realized I needed to work on my own problems. Bush would be over and something else would happen.

  In 2008 I was on tour with the Evolutionary Jass Band here on the east coast. We weren't bringing our A Game on this tour and part of that was playing way outside of comfortable Portland. The rest? The economy was about to collapse....Then it did. We didn't see the news but we were headed from rural Massachusetts to NYC when you could feel the vibe at the highway rest area. People were mega depressed.

  I drove back across the country with my dear sax player and we freaked out about it together. I bought several instruments at antique stores that I sold later to pay for the gas. Read that again. I took the action to pay for the gas across this huge country. Hmm. In positive times I could be so negative. In negative times I needed to be positive. So I started to learn how to do that. Pain is a great motivator, but I'm learning that joy is an even motivator greater now.

  When I returned to my little shop (Leighton Audio) things were grim. I went from nor being able to see my windows cause I had too much work to wondering if I was going to make my $300 rent. About 9 months went by of me staring at the walls and thinking about how bad things are. I started looking at the news again to affirm my negative mind. This lasted till about my birthday in July 2009. Then I thought about closing, not serving the public any longer and getting a job. I had one business card left.

  Light bulb moment. Yes the economy is a mess, yes Bush was a twat and his henchmen were evil, but the problem is me. I'm feeling sorry for myself. Nobody can fix this but me. I went to Kinkos and xeroxed that card onto cardstock, cut them up and put them in stores. I put ads on Craigslist for free and I went back to regular hours. I changed my habits. Easy to do when there is a dangerous snake in the room. I did what I had to do.....

  It took 48 hours before I had all new customers. I was too busy till the day I decided to move on. It only took a simple action and a positive outlook. It only took some self care and to be reminded that life is about serving another which is the same as serving oneself. I couldn't let Portland down, there were still amps to be fixed and fans to be entertained.

  At the end of the day it's all about being decent to one another. Don't play the politics game. It's rigged to be divisive. The banks that rule this country love a negative population. We make poor choices when we are pissed off, depressed and blaming one another for our pain. We overspend, fall into debt and the occupy some stupid street screaming at someone we will never meet and whom we will never change. We lose if we stoop so low. Do we really want to give them this sweet victory? I don't. Start by loving thy neighbor and treating each other with respect. We do this and the 2 party system will simply lose its power. It has to. Go do what you love and work hard at it. If we want to change this monstrously boring system, we need to change what is inside of us. I'm not perfect, I'm not close to being there yet. But I know this: I woke up in a bummer vibe this morning too and I have no one to blame but myself for that. It's my own self pity. I could let that get magnified by the bummer vibe I may encounter as I leave my apartment, but I choose not to eat that. So I took good care of myself and I feel better. Now I'll go out and take care of another.

  I love how this works....

JB

Slave mentality, survival and a piece of land in South Carolina

  I recently flew across the ocean with Tv on The Radio (best rock n roll band on Earth!) gratefully employed as a guitar tech. You know, it's been a while since I've flown anywhere and since I last flew apparently planes became flying cinemas with loads of on demand goodies to watch.

  On this flight the film 12 Years a Slave was being shown. I had put this one off for years now, I can't handle slavery films. I had heard about its brutality and after seeing the film Sankofa 20 years ago then Beloved I had sworn off watching another. But I decided to watch this one. I knew what I was going to see and I knew I'd cry on a plane full of strangers. But what I didn't know exactly was what would move me.

  The scenes of beatings, rape, lynchings, horrible.... I watched Roots when I lived in Germany in the 70's. Yes, a similar horror show, a similar of survival. But the 2 scenes that really brought me to the brink of screaming were the one on the slave ship where the protagonist is talking to Michael K Williams character (one of my favorite actors!) and another slave. Michael K is not going to lie down, he is alive and set on escaping even if that means killing his captors. He dies 4 minutes later as he is trying to save a young woman from being raped by an evil slave trader. But it's what the other slave says that made me so furious. He gives the protagonist advice for survival: Keep your head down and don't let anyone know you can read or write or that you are intelligent at all. If you do that is your death sentence. In a later scene the protagonist Solomon Northrup (played by Chiwetel Ejiofor) is talking to Brad Pitts character, a decent man. Pitt ask him to tell his story and he's afraid to do so, fearing for his life. That is the scene that brought tears. Not being able to tell your story, to live a life of hiding. There is no greater horror story than this.

  One day as I was putting my life into a storage facility in Los Angeles I had a nice conversation with the manager there. He had some lovely silver jewelery and he admired my silver ring. He was a handsome black man. He said something to me about how he just keeps his head at water level as to not be seen otherwise, he will be beaten down. This cat was well dressed, had some status in his job and whenever I went there he brightened my day which was full of fear at this point and yet, he's diminishing his life for fear of being beaten down. Beaten down by who I wonder?

  I read a book by Swiss child psychologist Alice Miller about oppression. She shares a story about a family she counseled. The parents were partisan fighters during WWII. They lived in the woods hiding, eating rats and stolen potatoes, surviving as best as they could. They met each other, fell in love and did what they had to do to survive. When it was over they started a family and never spoke of the horrible war days. They had 2 kids, a boy and a girl. When there was stress in the house the 2 children would run away.....to the woods and hide for days or weeks at a time, living on whatever they could steal to survive. They had no idea what the parents had lived through. It wasn't until the entire family worked together in therapy that the past was revealed and things changed quickly. No more running off to the woods. The wounds needed to be out in the open. But it is interesting how the pattern gets passed from one generation to the next even if it isn't spoken of.

  I knew my mothers family came from South Carolina. We had land near Myrtle Beach in some little town I'll never see. I knew that in the 1920's my Great Grandfather got into some trouble and the KKK wanted to end his life. The story I was told was that he was a bit of a rascal and was accused of moonshining which as the story goes, was probably true. He fled, and my grandmother who was a little child at that time got her earliest memory of getting into a big old car in the middle of the night and fleeing to Baltimore. My great grandfather became a much in demand wall paper man who wore one of those railroad engineer caps.

  It was the cap that seemed a mystery to me. Why a railroad cap? Hipster Luddites wear them today cause they look cool. Not too many hipsters around 80 years ago. Something about that didn't add up but I went through life re-telling the story as it was told to me. I also went through life keeping my head down, thinking I wasn't the brightest bulb in the lamp post and diminishing my chances at success by thinking I didn't deserve it or this world is hostile so why really put the effort out there. I don't know why I had these peculiar negative attitudes, they are so contrary to my own true nature......

   When I turned 39 I learned the truth about my great grandfather. He worked on the railroad and travelled all over the country. He was a brilliant man, well spoken, an orator. He would come back to his little town, go to the barber shop for 'coloreds" and tell stories of a better life elsewhere. He was what those Klansmen called "Uppity". He owned a piece of land in South Carolina and had a bit of status. He was marked to be murdered because he was smart, well spoken and decided to help other people choose a better life. He was a bright light in a sea of ignorance and intolerance. A beacon of hope and love. That's why they wanted him dead. He was a threat. A rebel spirit. Not a moonshiner and certainly not an idiot.

  When I learned the truth I was furious, then I was quite depressed for some time. Why was the truth hidden for so long? Yes, I'm smart and my true nature doesn't allow me to fit in to this stupid society yet, I've lived much of my life as a lie, hiding out and trying to fit in much like my storage space manager. That is the essence evil: destroying oneself to fit in. This is what evil does.

  I can choose to sit in resentment of those Klansmen, those southern ways, my family for not telling me the real story but I forgive all of them. I look at it this way. If this didn't happen I would not exist and I love this life I have been living. It keeps getting better too. If they had stayed in South Carolina my mother wouldn't have been born and my father certainly would not have met my mother. It is fate. And if for some reason I would have been born in South Carolina, I couldn't survive there. Do I feel entitled to a piece of stolen land there? I could get into that idea but, ask me if I want to live outside of Myrtle Beach and the answer is a solid "hell no".  There is nothing wrong with it but it's not the life for me.

  And besides, it's enough to know that my Great Grandfather was an ass kicker. He was a brave soul who stood up to a monstrous world and made the best choice he could make for the survival of himself and my family. Best thing about the past is the past is dead. It's a corpse and it cannot hurt me or anyone else. We get to start over right this very moment if we so choose. I choose to start again every day now and I feel so blessed that I live in a world where I can do that now. My great grandfather chose to live and for that I am grateful.

JB

  

The brick that hit the camel on the head: Attempted murder, denial and why I left Boston.

  I attended Berklee College of Music in Boston from 1986-1988. I won't go into details but I'll just say there were things I liked about it and things I didn't. Boston, it's a beautiful city but the vibration in those days wasn't for me. Things were meaner in the 80's, or maybe my perception has simply changed.

  I knew I was going to be in for a bit of a wild ride within an hour after my dad dropped me off at my apartment in September of '86. I was at a record store and was approached by a man who wanted me to be in one of his adult films. My little suburban self wasn't prepared for big city life but, I did manage to elbow him in the ribs out of instinct as he reached into my personal space and told him to get the (expletive) away from me. He did. I honor my inner animal.

  After 2 years of good grades and having my guitarist ego crushed like a bug, I was having doubts as to whether music was something I really wanted to pursue. Plus, Berklee was quite literally, 85% boys. There were so few girls. Not cool for a 19 year old Jef and I don't just mean on some sex/romance level, I mean on simple variety. I didn't like the way women were treated, especially by some of the scuzzier jazzhole professors. I found myself drawn to my English class. My schoolmates resented the requirement, they only wanted to talk music and study scales and harmony and I was bored of that. I discovered I actually liked reading and writing. I started to wonder if school was actually damaging me: disconnecting me from so called normal folks. Would I make music that didn't connect with people? I did not want that. Simply put, it was too much music, not enough life. This was the institutional art school model of the 80's. It felt like a factory. I needed to be in a band.

  But I stuck it out despite these feelings. I wanted to please my parents first and foremost, and I wanted to follow through. But something simply wasn't right. Boston was a rather segregated city with a heavy race vibe in those days. I felt the energy there was sending me elsewhere.

  Yeah, this post is uncomfortable....race, religion, Othering one another, that's the heart of it.

  I had a neighbor down the hall named Dylan. He was a smiley hair metal kid. I'd see him often in the morning. We'd always smile at one another and go about our business. One day I finally introduced myself and we had a few conversations. He was just a nice kid in my life story. At the end of the year he invited me to his party. There was a really cute blond gal that hung around his place so of course I said yes, but would have said yes anyway.

  So I went to his party. Did something I hadn't done for a long time which is drink. And I drank way too much. These were metal kids. When in Rome.....There was some weed and mushrooms going around but I stuck to bourbon.

  Those of you who know me, I'm what they call bi-racial. I don't like labels, I find them violent and they don't actually describe anyone. I get nervous at parties when I'm the only one like me there. Sometimes people feel free to toss a black joke around and I feel defenseless. They don't know who I really am and my skin happens to be pale so while they feel safe, I don't. I gained a reputation for leaving without saying goodbye. There is a reason for everything.

  Back to Dylan's party. Yeah, the cute blond was there. I remember her being nice to me but of course, she fancied a metal dude. So I drank more. At one point I wondered what am I doing here at this party. So I stepped out with some mushroom tripping kids and went to their apartment. I took my camera with me. It was about 3am. I left their place around 5am and by this point my drunk was wearing off. I got back to my haunted building and decided to say goodnight to Dylan and thank him for the good times.

  When I walked into his place there was a new guest sitting on the beer keg. An older man, a rough looking 40 something with greasy blond hair, blue eyes and a black leather jacket. He immediately took an interest in me. He started asking about my camera which he deemed a weapon. "I said don't point that machine gun at me!" He kept yammering away and yes, I was creeped out. I lived right up the hallway but didn't wish to go home, I did not want this guy to see where I lived. He kept talking about me being Turkish and that he didn't like that fact. He muttered some bible mumbo jumbo.....

  Dylan, high as a Georgia Pine on mushrooms asked me if I wanted to go to the roof and watch the sunrise. I said yes, it was an opportunity to get away from this fair gentleman. I said goodnight to him and turned away.

  And of course, he followed us up to the rooftop. What was I expecting? My new frenemy wanted to carry on his hatred of me and continue his creepy ass delusion that I'm a Muslim and he's a Viking defender of the faith.

  So we arrive at the rooftop and Captain Klan mutters more Jesus stuff and American patriot stuff and ask my what my nationality is. I say "German Irish" to which he replies "Bullshit!" Then informs me that he's an American and nobody fucks Vikings over and that my Turkish ass will be going over the roof. He grabs me. Fortunately, I was cold sober by now and he was destroyed on whatever he was on. I managed to get away pretty easily, slide down the ladder to the roof and run to my apartment. Before that moment I looked at Dylan and his lady friend and just said 'help'. They were useless with this gaze on their faces and the saddest eyes I had ever seen. I was already dead apparently. Fear baby, fear.....

  I locked my door and listened to this maniac run up and down the hallways shouting obscenities. Eventually the shouts stopped. I stood in my apartment and shook for what seemed like forever.

  So Jef, cops? Did you call them? No, I didn't. I'm no longer baffled by that. It took another month for the denial to wear off. Attempted murder? Nah. That only happens elsewhere to other folks on the 11 O'clock news.

  About an hour after the incident my roommate came home and I told him what had happened. He looked worse than me. He simply says "you think you had a bad night?" then proceeds to tell me that he got drunk at a bar and cheated on the love of his life (who was seeing at least 2 other dudes!) and she was going to be devastated. So I almost lose my life and he has a zesty session and his night was worse? Oh lordy, what is wrong with people?

  So no, I don't blame Jesus for the actions of a maniac, but someone put those ideas in his head maybe 2000 or 3000 years ago. Our thinking is the result of thousands of years of propaganda, ancient books written by folks who didn't have clean drinking water so they drank wine and other fermented beverages and wrote down things to make men feel superior. Think about it. If we go about our lives declaring "I am an American, I am a Muslim, I am a Christian, I'm a Viking" or whatever, we will never move forward from monstrous acts like this guy tried or Isis does so well. The declaration of Othering is violent in itself.

  Fast forward 12 years later. I'm on tour with Jackie O in 2000. We're in London and our drummer and I are sitting on the steps to the hotel and there are 3 little Pakistani kids playing with a ladder. We're smiling at them, they are smiling at us. One of them ask my drummer if she's a Christian. She says no. Then the kid, who can't be more than 8 says "That's good, Christians touch dogs and spread disease." It breaks the heart to hear such violence coming from a child. It breaks the heart cause like my dear bible verse quotingViking patriot American maniac, those ideas where put into their heads when they were innocent children by what we call adults. People we are supposed to trust. People who think they have our best interest.

  So how does my Boston story end? My dad picked me up to take me home for the summer and I sublet my room to a kid from Silver Spring Maryland named Ben. I have no details but do know that Ben and Dylan became drinking buddies. I got a phone call from one of my Boston people, a friend of my ex, that she went to take the trash out and found Dylan in the dumpster. He had fallen off the rooftop. Dead. Rumor had it he a Ben were drinking together 6 stories up. Ben? Never heard from him again. He simply vanished and skipped out on the rent. So I decided that going back to my haunted (literally) apartment building in that city was a really bad idea. Best choice I could have made and I have no regrets. Sometimes the energy of this world simply acts this way. GET OUT! You know, like those horror movies where the family moves in and a voice says "Get out" or blood comes out of the faucet? Horror movies aren't far from the truth. It's best to simply admit "I'm not welcome here, I shall go where I am loved, Goodbye evil spirits!". Life is short, and I'm grateful that it wasn't for me only 19 years short! I'm grateful for that horrible racist even, for that was the brick that hit the camel in the head and altered the course of my life for the better.

JB