RAGE

  It's the 'holiday' season. Ideally it's a nice thing, time to go be nice to each other, be with family and all that good stuff. But, let's be honest. It's always been a time to express our petty horrible side as well. It's descended into competitive spending, blaming this group or that group on the de-Christianization of our society leading to a call to boycott the mermaid coffee joint, an opportunity to be rotten to one another on the subway. I ain't gonna lie to you, I really don't enjoy this time of year. At best I have the opportunity to stay at home and create cause it's cold outside, I know the change of season is actually good for me. I also am presented with ample opportunity to transcend the horror show and be kind to strangers, offer my seat and help a homeless fellow cross the street.

  This week it's Thanksgiving. I'm realizing how much I'm dreading it. Oh, before any musical performance my mind goes to a very negative place. "No one is going to be there, no one cares, I suck yadda yadda" but then I show up and I'm often surprised by how well things go. But this week I feel full of dread. I'm realizing I treat seeing my people like a performance. Maybe I've been performing my whole life? In music at least I get to be honest and vulnerable. Off stage I'm just plain scared.

  If it's hysterical it's historical I've been told. I've been taking actions over my addictions this fall so maybe I'm just more open. That chill in the air stirs up some ugly feelings. It's like when I'm looking for a place to live and people tell me "that's a chill neighborhood, it's a family neighborhood". All I want to do is run. "So which neighborhood isn't the family neighborhood? Where do all the freaks live?" That's where I feel safe. I associate this time of year with Druncles and creepy religious people making efforts for me to get in line. I have a neighbor downstairs who lives alone. He's a musician. When he had family visit recently there was the grumpy man arguing with his grumpy wife. Yesterday there was a scream fest in that apartment. I haven't heard that in a while. Can be quite triggering. So with my history it's no wonder I struggle with this time of year. I hate seeing and hearing people fight. My last girlfriend had a traditional streak in her, and she wanted the argument. That felt, old. I'm not ready for old! The holidays and all that religion feels so, old. Old and cold. Fit in boy! Fit in so you can be, old..... Ick.

  A few weeks ago I was sitting with a friend I've known for a long time. We aren't tight, we just have run in the same musical circle for the last 2 decades. We were having a a discussion about being the outsider. She's Jewish and spent time as a child in Germany. I am who I am, not belonging to any race, religion and as of these days, feeling rather stateless and homelandless as well. We talked about living in between. For me it was between black and white and dealing with cruelty and pettiness from both camps. The Asian kids weren't exactly kind as well. So my friends tended to be Jewish kids whose parents weren't that good at being Jewish, and my friends who were white with an adopted black and Vietnamese younger brother. No, that family didn't church it up either. I pretty much hung out with kids that didn't have churchy parents. The churchy kids, be they black, white, Jewish, Indian or whatever, were just not as nice.

  So my friend says to me "I've always seen you as and angry person Jef" to which I replied "Oh thank God you did! Thank god someone did!" I felt such relief in that moment. Someone could see through my Obama people pleaser side. See it for what it is: survival. Or maybe, bullshit. Mediocrity. Yuck. It's nice to know I have that kind of love accessible to me. She didn't run away or judge me, just told the truth about her experience. Wow. Wow wow wow wow wow!

  She then asked me if I have found a way to channel that rage. Yes, it's been with me all along. Music. But I've also been channeling it in other creative ways too. Anger can be fuel. Something my last girlfriend tried to get going, I just wasn't down with being trained so I left. But I'm glad she gave me that bit of crumpet. I do feel less afraid of my rage. And I am booking more shows, solo shows, group shows. Life is getting shorter and this fire needs to go somewhere. It needs to be passion.

  My life is good. So why all the rage? Well, there are plenty of things to be angry about. Look at our stupid presidential race. It's okay to be a grumpy shouting caucasian like Trump or Sanders, but if our president shouted he would never hold that office. People would have felt threatened. Can you see that? It's pretty simple and pretty obvious. For me to be the angry mixed guy becomes it's own stereotype. I never felt free to express that side of me. Carson put his rage in his past with all that 'stabbed someone' jive. Oh, come on. Please tell me the truth. That's enough to make anyone angry, all that lying.

  We all have our own bondage. Our own reasons for suppressing and depressing. We all have our own rug to sweep our feelings under. So yeah, my life is really good, but I can't discount my own feelings.

  I ran into some old friends who mentioned what an inspiration I was back in my youth. Telling me about how passionate my guitar playing was and all and my reply was "thanks, perhaps it was, but I feel like I was just drunk and lying to you in those days". A performance was a performance, just that. It's only been recent where it feels like reality. I got asked to do a reunion show and haven't said yes or no yet. Though now it's obvious: No. The band was locally successful, 3 years of an ego trip that made a lot of people happy. But I was miserable then. The whole thing felt mediocre. I watched other bands around me express themselves so fully. We were hiding something deep. I don't like memory lane. I have a responsibility to the present.

  I was asked by another fellow the same question about making some music again. This was a band that got international recognition right as I was leaving. Hell no, can't do it. I watched us get more shut down, try to please more people, become passionless and the audience grew and grew. That freaked me out.

  But again, I have a responsibility to the present. I make much better music today than I did then. It's only cause I'm no longer afraid to burn. I was a scared young man then. That fear of my own feelings could have killed me. It's kept me broke and leading a mediocre existence, thank god I never got into substance, but looking back I'm just baffled at this: Why is it all so scary? Why was I taught to be afraid of my own rage? Or better yet, why was I taught to hide it? If I can transcend all this I have nothing left to be afraid of. If I can own this wound, it is a gift I can share. A gift I can help others with. I can love better if I'm okay with it. I can not fall into the mediocrity trap again so easily.

  And for todays sounds, my music makes me terribly uncomfortable. I know I'm in the right place cause uncomfortable isn't stuck. Uncomfortable is opportunity. It just keeps getting better and better. I don't care if I turn you on or off. It's indifference I'm not down with. I never want to hear "it's okay, it's fine" again. Better to hear "it's effin great!" or "I hated it and here's why!!!". Then I know I'm doing my job as a human here on Earth the right way.


Fire baby, fire.....

  JB

Best Conversation I've ever had

   The other day I was giving a guitar lesson to one of my students, an 11 year old girl who doesn't seem to care much about her talent. Doesn't matter what I show her, she just plays it back right away flawlessly then moves on to the next thought. I think we were playing "Keep You" by Wild Belle.

  "How many million are in a billion? One hundred? Or on thousand?" She asked.

  "I suck at math, but I think one thousand, cause I hear people on TV say one hundred million."

  "Oh. That's a lot of numbers. 7 Billion people on the planet. That's a lot of people."

  Yes, it is...

  "If they took one eyeball from each person, do you think they would all fit in this room?"

  Um, no. Not even close.

  "How many corpses do you think would fit in this room? 500?"

  No, if someone really knew what they were doing, maybe 100.

  "I think way more, probably at least 300"

  I'll split the difference. 150?

  "If everyone on Earth were a corpse, would we take up the entire Mediterranean?"

  That's a good question. Perhaps, but I don't know......

  All this with such a look of delight on her face. Not one bit of moroseness. I haven't seen the Great Wall of China, made a million dollars or had any success as an artist, but I did have this conversation and that kinda makes up for a lot of it. Children can be so naturally psychedelic. An adult would need drugs to come up with this, but a kid, not needed. And now I'm thinking about such matters....and I'm grateful.

  Time to go write a song!

JB

Past, present and future

  I just noticed something in my meditation this morning. My mind loves future fantasy and loves the past. There is no drama in the now as I sit in my bed writing this. Even with my eyes closed my mind drifted off to the future, writing this blog post. "Ooh, here's what I shall write! Zzzzz".

  And the second my mind wanders off I can feel myself sleep. I'm struggling a bit with exhaustion. Mental mostly, some physical. I spend a lot of time working really hard on the past and the future. It's no wonder I'm so tired.

  The past is a nightmare and the future is a dream. Nostalgia is not my friend, it's a bottle of cheap whiskey and I'm a drunk when I go down memory lane. I prefer the fantasy of the future. The future is acid and I'm Timothy Leary or one of those hippies. Still, it's work and it's not particularly useful. The angels that be put me right here, right now for some reason I shall perhaps never know. I can only trust their reasons are good.

  When I have no past and no future, I feel awake. I feel energized. No need for coffee. No need to rush, no need to think, only be and act.

  I'm only writing this to remind myself, the rest doesn't matter.

-JB

Happy birthday Mr. Coltrane

  I was just sitting in my car listening to the end of the John Coltrane birthday broadcast on WKCR. Those of you who live outside of NYC, WKCR ran a 24 hour broadcast of his music.

  Just the last part, I remembered why I got into music. And I realized what inspires me the most about his music. He died at the age of 40. I've outlived the man by 7 years now. I can't imagine what else he could have possibly done with his music. He gave us everything he had. I can only hope I'm living a life close to that. Playing brutally honest music and leaving nothing at home in the safe.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J9uJOJgK_LA

Joy!

Thank you! J

Something my Mom and Dan Higgs taught me.

  I leave more shows than I stay to the end. This is for those who do the same. There is an awkward moment I used to feel before leaving. "Oh I don't want to be rude." Or there is just a bit of guilt causing anxiety about being noticed for leaving. After a while on planet Earth I realized life is short and precious. I don't have time to sit and suffer. I've left jazz performances (Charlie Haden amongst others!) that I paid good money to see, I left a play at the big playhouse in Portland I payed to see, I've left countless rock shows, noise shows, electronic shows, shows friends of mine were playing.

  I don't feel bad about it. In fact, it's the kindest thing I can do sometimes. If I'm suffering the vibe I'm giving off, well, the fan next to me doesn't need that. Nor does the performer. And it's kind to myself. It's the highest expression of love I can offer sometimes.

  I was talking to my friend Dan one day and he said this: "I stopped feeling bad when I realized that music has a message, and that when I receive that message I'm free to just go."

  I've left some of Dans performances as well. He understands. When I'm feeling it I'm there. When not I'm going home.

  Tonight was one of those nights. I stayed for about 15 minutes of a band and felt frustrated. In fact the last 25 years of music that seems to be the primary emotion: frustration. When someone is moaning about on stage and I can't understand a word of it, or can't get the feeling they are trying to convey it triggers my own stuck voice. All those things I want to say to someone I love but the words just don't come. Those moments I feel the division our world is suffering from. There is a veil between myself and the performer, or maybe this just isn't my tribe whatever that means. I don't have the answer except, I feel frustrated. And maybe that is the message, at least for me.

  I'm a friend not a fan. How would you rather have me? I heard that one in a discussion I was having about folks who say this: "Ugh I have to go see this band tonight so I can't do the thing I really want to do." Really? You 'have' to? "Yeah well I want to support my friends."

   Lying is not support. And they know it unless they are too drunk to smell a lie. Stay home. Show respect for your loved ones and let their fans sort out a good time.

   There was a period about 12 years ago when the 'Freak Folk' scare of 2003 took place. I couldn't stand it. All those out of tune folks mumbling about with flowered shirts on. For some reason I took it really personal. And it didn't help that I was surrounded by folks who hated it as well. So I was complaining to my mother about it when she just said basically the same thing Dan said: "You remember going to Quaker church years ago and sitting in the silence for an hour. Someone would stand up and speak if the spirit moved them. You might be one of the few that says 'oh man that's the answer! Thank you! That message was for me!' while the rest are thinking 'jeez I wish this guy would shut up, what a wanker!'" Or the opposite may happen.

  A week later I was complaining about the genre to a friend on Mississippi Avenue in Portland when I stopped myself and said out loud: "I don't need to do this ever again! This is the last time I complain about 'freak folk'.

  And things got better. And better and continue to.

  And I got better at tuning it out, walking out of performances, changing stations, owning my choices  and taking care of myself. I got better at expressing love through an honest exit.

  JB
  

Surviving Capitalism

  Any economic, political, spiritual, tribal system is rooted in the idea 'for the good of us all'. I really do think people are doing their best with whatever information they have regardless of whether I agree with their choices or not. And any system causes harm no matter what. Harm to the psyche. Harm to the person who is doing no more than their best to realize their highest self. At one point I held a large capacity for judgement of my fellow beings, but it's obvious to me now that we are all a part of some set of patterns, a system, and we are all damaged by that system. I can see it in myself. How I've judged people particularly those who are doing better than I. Any time I've put someone else down it was merely cause I've been taught to be afraid for them and afraid for myself.

  I'm working on my capacity for compassion these days and it's going well. It's all I really want now. How do I want the rest of my days on Earth to be? I'd rather give away all I have than be stingy and worried about money, love, status etc. Will anyone notice? On my authentic days I could care less. That's the most honest thing I can come up with. To be compassionate and loving is still self interest. The internet troll has no power if I admit this right away.

  I am born and raised in the United States of America. It's a lovely and vast piece of land. No matter how much I lie to myself, I am conditioned so deeply as an American I've had a hard time imagining a better way of life than what I have here. Let's look at the obvious. It's a capitalist society. There are things about that that I've come to enjoy and there is a tremendous amount of damage in myself due to my conditioning. If I were from Russia, Cuba, Germany, Iraq, it would merely be another set of patterns to work with and against to do my best work. I don't blame any particular country or system, in fact at this age I would be foolish to blame anyone or anything for the dis-satisfaction in my life. My eyes are open just enough to see what is going on and I know I have ample options for healing and growth.

  Where is this article coming from? I'm an artist. I'm decent at what I do. I feel I can do much better work but rather spend my time on Facebook or Netflix, or worse yet scurrying back and forth making a 'living', chasing dollars around and seeking approval. I don't like this. I'm at a point where I know it's time for change. It's time, if I'm at all serious about contributing gifts to make a better world, I need to cast off this horrible conditioning.

  Gifts. Now there is the word. I've lived my life as a stingy person. "Where's the money???" It's always about the money. Money money money money money money money! This is what has held be back the most. It's an important subject to think about, but it's been an obsession. It creates more fear than love, sex or status. My relationship to money has kept me from taking any real risk, even when my rent was $200 a month! Kept me from booking that tour, amplifying whatever gifts I have. Years of negative messages from folks conditioned (myself included!!!) by our industrial revolution cookie cutter cog in the machine education come up whenever I book a gig or get closer to competing my album. "Oh you'll embarrass yourself! You may lose all that money! Your rhythm needs work! You aren't as good as John Fahey so who wants to buy this? How dare you?" and the worst of them all: "If you succeed you'll be as much of a sellout/phony/braggart as the guy you've learned to despise!"

  I'm aware of all these things. My conditioning has given that part of my brain ample fuel to resist getting the job done. It's all about being one with the pack. Being in the middle. Invisible.

  My friends who enjoy the most success were generous from day one. Just an observation. Oh, they aren't perfect, just more giving than I've been. And their work connects better as a result. Clear ideas, clear sound, they don't do it for the money. Me? I've always said that I don't do it for the money but, that's always been an issue. And maybe it has been for my friends too. I don't know the answer to this one, I just know that I'm letting go of this toxin.

  I did a solo gig recently. All the resistance showed up in the hours leading up to it. "There'll be no one there, you suck, you'll never make a living at this, give up and let the pros handle it, just fix their amps and get as much money as you can from that, you can earn a 'decent' living from that." From the first note I felt shame. Suicide thoughts. The sound man was checking his text on his Iphone, in the back of the room the couple on a date were looking at the guys vacation photos as he talked about the hiking and stuff louder than my little acoustic guitar. I laughed a little. It's a cruel reality. Steve Jobs has created the crack cocaine of devices and I'm hooked too, though I would never check my email in front of a performer.

  Then the couple quieted. They didn't leave. They listened for a while. Some more folks drifted in. Oh yes, I didn't even announce that I was performing and, well, that is my responsibility. The sound in the little room was fantastic. And for a while I could no longer be Jef Brown, American, capitalist conditioned, depressed guy. I could just be a channel. The artist occupying this body. People came and went and showed appreciation. A really negative mind turned positive not because of the audience, but because it's my spiritual imperative to do my best for me. Best I can hope for is the folks in front of me will dig it. That's it.

  Lately I don't sell my records at shows. I give them away. My capitalist conditioned mind has been really upset about that. I gave a pair to another couple that night and they insisted on paying me. That doesn't happen often but I won't turn down the dollar either. Usually I'm met with guilt. "I can't just take it, I want it but have no money! I feel bad." Well then, just take it. Please take it! For every record gone it makes more room for me so the recipient is physically helping me out. It helps my spirit to have more space in my little apartment. And most importantly, it's out in the world making a small difference in someone else's life. Again if I actually focus on what is important, being more generous, more compassionate, more loving, having a healthier spirit therefore healthier mind and body, than I realize the truth which is all I do is create gifts. I don't need financial compensation for my creative work. I appreciate it but that's not why I'm doing it.

   See, my work and the industrial revolution don't really go well together. It's that simple. I didn't enjoy Berklee College of music cause the focus was on the industrial revolution: "Here is how you become a working musician, by following the rules. Here is how jazz is played properly." When the internet troll left me a snarky comment on a video I was playing in about my sound he was really saying "I feel unsafe because you don't sound like what I've been led to believe a sax player should sound like". Sad for that person. I hear things I don't dig all the time. I w hopefully have never left a comment that can shut someone down. With that knowledge I can move on and keep doing my thing quickly. That poisonous thinking has gone deep into my own mind. It's taken a village to help me find the child I am once again. A village that really gets it. A village that says 'you're doing your thing, go for it!'

   Lordy. Imagine if school were like that! "Whoah kid, that's something I haven't seen before! Keep running with that ball and see where you can take it or where it can take you!"

  For now it's just embracing that child and one day at a time shaking off the oppression of blind capitalism and the culture of conformity. For now it's just remembering why I do what I do and keep practicing the art of giving it away. Practice makes better after all!

J

  

How did I get here? The bottom....

  In 2011 I reluctantly left Los Angeles with my tail between my legs. I had lost my apartment, had no money to get another one together, a $28,000 debt hanging over me that I could no longer manage, my closest friend Barry had just passed away, the job I had was about to become too much for me since I didn't want to solder amps back together 8 hours a day, some mis-understandings happened and I suffered a nervous break. It happened on the night of a performance at the Echo Curio house. And look, it's on video!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kxyuBDRBus8

  Believe it or not everything felt in slow motion during this performance. Every nerve ending was collapsing into the ether. It was a terrifying feeling. Acid free too. I'm grateful Steven was here to drum the bad spirits into some submission. God knows what would have happened otherwise. (I'm grateful Steven has that moose on his drumhead! I need reminders to not take myself too seriously!)

  The next 3 days I felt numb. I cried in the rain in front of the laundromat. It felt good to have such a release. I didn't know if things would get better or not. The debts hadn't been sold yet to the collectors but that was on the way. I became terrified of my phone. Paranoid. I knew they wouldn't just call me, they would harass my parents in an attempt to shame me into profit.

  I started noticing whenever I got on the freeway, which is the worst place to be in LA, I felt a sense of freedom. A little voice kept saying it's time to go back east. You need to move to New York. So I made that decision. It wasn't difficult either. New York is a great place to get there, LA is for the man who has already arrived. I had a long, long road ahead. It was obvious. So I packed it in. Took me only a few hours to pack the van up. My father and I were to meet in Oregon and drive back to Maryland together.

  When I arrived in Portland I was with my friend Kelvin. It was about 3am and I dropped him off and headed to a friends place to stay. It had been almost a year since I left and I drove through the city slowly just taking it in like the first day I arrived 15 years prior. I saw the new tram tracks, solar buildings. I thought to myself this is one good looking modern city. It's kind of the city of my fathers dreams with all those green buildings going in. Funny. Just a year before I resented change. All that sunshine and fresh orange juice in LA did something to my brain.

  Evolutionary Jass Band had a reunion show at Valentines. It was rainy. There wasn't enough space in the venue for our dear fans. That felt good. We played better than ever that night, with more maturity and space. I'm grateful for that show.

  Leaving Portland this time was even harder than a year before. Leaving all that love behind is no small feat. I just knew I couldn't stay any longer.

  The drive across the country was nice. My dad is up there so it was great to spend time in the van with him. I told him in 6 months I was moving to New York. If I was still in the house in a year they need to throw me out with all my stuff. I told him I love he and mom and they cannot enable me. I know full well at this point I look for enablers, out of love this couldn't happen. At this point he didn't know about my financial mess. It just hurt way too much to say anything.

  Funny. When I lost the apartment Dave Sitek offered me a room in his place to crash. I told him the same thing. I was grateful but couldn't let that happen until some healing was done. I'm ever grateful to him and David Cousin who lives with him. Cousin really helped me keep my sanity by playing 20 games of scrabble a week with me. He was a former debt collector so he prepared me on what to say. I couldn't believe I had rights, which is exactly the opposite of what the debt man wants you to believe.

  When I arrived in Maryland I didn't know what to do. I needed a job but I also couldn't lie like I did to my last boss and get a great job which I would regret leaving. No, I hate letting people down like that. I needed a job where no matter what I did I couldn't feel indispensable. I needed an industrial revolution type job where there are 200 applicants who could do just as well when I leave, a job where I mattered little. And I needed it fast. So I applied to Guitar Center.

  I got the job right away. I knew the store manager and I had friends there. It hurt to act psyched to get the job, I didn't want to be there. I was earning between $35-$75 an hour before, and I just took a job that earned me $7.25 an hour. Those of you who have been through this know the special kind of pain I'm sharing about. It sucks. To earn well at your craft and being freelance you need to be positive. It's really hard to stay positive working for a big corporation after you've felt a sense of autonomy.

  My first day of work I put on my Guitar Center button down and walked to my van. My mom told me I looked handsome and I had this horrible flashback of being 6 years old getting on the bus on my way to my first day of school. Except that I'm not a kid and there is no sense of wonder or fear, just a sense of 'how did I sink this low?' I knew I would get along with most of the folks, and I'm grateful to all of them since they were all great, but I also knew I would be standing on my feet all day, bored, trying to stay sane with an enormous amount of horrific noise around me. I knew I wouldn't fit in to the cult of corporate America as well. Any moment they would see the impostor. I just needed enough money to move to New York. 6 months.

  My mother kissed me goodbye and I cried the whole 27 mile drive to my new job. I screamed in my van in the parking lot. After that, I could be useful. Positive. One of my first clients was a lawyer in his 40's. He wanted to get back into playing guitar. This was his 4th visit. He wanted an Epiphone Les Paul. He had a mini breakdown. There are over 40 versions of that stupid guitar and he couldn't decide what was best for him. He teared up. I put my hand on his shoulder and said 'it's alright man'. I felt useful. A bit more special cog in the machine than I imagined. Guitar Center employees are human too. So are the customers. That was enough to keep me going.

  Somehow things worked themselves out. Little did I know I would play at Carnegie Hall in less than a year from that day. I felt nervous telling the crew I was leaving but I knew they would find someone better for the job fast. The debt collectors started calling, some were drunk! But one little day at a time my fear of them abated. I cease and desisted them until I could make a clear plan. I didn't know this was my right and thanks to my Scrabble partner and a lot of support, I needn't walk in fear and shame.

  Life is better and continues to get better. It's August in New York and for a freelancer this is a tough time to earn a living. But I've learned to manage things better with a lot of help from friends and I'm okay. Best part is just sharing the story, knowing where I came from. Victim thinker to survivor on my way to thriver. And I hope that some of this is useful to those reading.

J

Special thanks to my family, the 2011 Guitar Center crew, Steven, Autumn, Michael Jacob Rochlin, Lon Cohen, the Footes and the Daves. Could not have done this without you. xoj

Finally got a road trip in.

  Drove all the was to Germantown NY today. Gorgeous day for it. My first stop was Division Street Guitars in Peekskill which is a shop owned by my friend Paul DeCourcey. Really lovely store! Dropped off a couple vintage archtops to sell on consignment. Always glad to spread the dough around to my friends.

  Highlights of the day: Google Maps GPS shut down during Amy Winehouse's "I Wake Up Alone". She's got it over Siri....and I got a bit lost. Also crossing this huge bridge across the Hudson while the sun set to the Grateful Dead playing "Box of Rain". I like exactly one Dead tune and that's the one. it just gets me. The rest? Eh, leave it to the Deadheads. But it was a good reminder to get my hippy on more often.

  A skunk crossed my path 3 feet in front of me on Main Street in Beacon. That's what I love about small towns. There is always a Main Street.

  I need road trips. For an American, it's a rite of passage to cross the country in a motor vehicle. Really, that's what this country is about. Skip all that freedom jive the leaders dupe us into, it's about the combustion engine, some tires and a long drive. May as well be honest about it.

  A road trip like today opens my mind up to new possibilities. I saw a house for a hundred grand. Haven't seen one of those since before the housing boom in Portland. In fact I looked in a lot of real estate windows walking around Beacon. And I started to wonder why I choose to live in this dirty ass big expensive difficult as hell to get ahead city made for the rich only. There's a lot of opportunity up north.

  And as I got back into the city and the space between our combustion engine driven spirit pods diminished, I felt that battle for space. Then I got excited to be back where I like to be. I guess it's a question of do I like living in this city and knowing I have such easy access to such beauty as the Hudson Valley? Or would I like living in the Hudson Valley knowing I have such easy access to the big ass dirty exciting city more?

  Something to ponder. I do know one thing. I think I love New York State a little more today. It feels like there is no limit to what it has to offer. I miss the vineyards in Oregon, and I saw plenty today to keep me interested.

  J

Bookends of a day. It ends well.

  This morning I had a nice suicide dream. I was in this room with the Hale Bopp cult who were drinking vodka and taking phenobarbital while someone was putting black perfectly square blankets over them as they slipped away.

  I wasn't down with the scene. I tiptoed around them and found a door and walked out. I could hear my father laughing "what kind of morons would off themselves to a comet called Hale Bopp?"

  Yesterday brought up all kinds of triggers but, like in the dream, I want to live. I do suffer the human 'taking myself way too seriously' bits from time to time.

  So I went about the day and it ended well. Got a nice 2 hour practice session in on my sax. I'm loving the sound lately and it's really meditative to practice. It's astounding the amount of time one can put into an instrument. It's Friday night and I'm almost never out with the rest of you. I don't much enjoy bars unless there is some Afrobeat to dance to, and Zebulon closed 2 1/2 years ago. So I work on music.

  It's a good thing for bad times and a good thing for good times. What am I working on? Just some of my own stuff and new melodies for Gospel of Mars. I don't play jazz. I hardly touch the stuff these days. And that feels right. When I play a standard I feel competitive. I feel the compare despair crap. "Oh I'll never be as good as Joshua Redman or James Carter".

  I don't know where that attitude comes from. Berklee years? It's gross. And as if I'd ever want to play like those guys or sound like them. And as if they would ever care!

  So I play me. That's all I got baby. And it's the best kind of self care to just do that. Tonight I had some new ideas come in the channel. I could hear my old teacher WC Cage say "the more you play the more ideas you find". Wise words from a wise old man. I've never known anyone to think their way out of a writing block but have known myself to play my way out of a thinking block.

  Progress. It's good for the heart.

  As I was about to write this I noticed I got a reply on todays earlier post. I got excited for a moment but then saw it was mr. Finnell with his same old tired bible drivel. Bunch of verse written by drunk men a long time ago. It's sad what those words do to people. Like the vultures are picking the bones while your body is still warm. Please refrain from posting your religious stuff here. I'm happily unsaved and loving it. Amen.

J

Heat, heartbreak and jewelry

  So I'm going to shift away from lofty 'spiritual' post and just treat this place as my blog, or Jefs Blog.

One of my musical projects seems to have ended yesterday. There's a bit of relief from all the resistance I was feeling, but mostly heartbreak. Sometimes you can put a lot of love into something and it just doesn't work out. I'm grieving.

  It's been a beautiful summer here. Hot at times, but overall beautiful. I don't know how to appreciate it. I haven't gone to the beach, the river or even the valley. All I'm doing is working on music, working to pay for music, and being of service to others. I'm sad and annoyed. I forgot to have fun again and summer is over.

  I teach kids music for part of my living. I refrain from telling them what a shit show music can be. They have dreams. Life hasn't torn up their contract yet.

  Today I feel invisible. I've reached that age.

  A small victory. I've been intentionally leaving my cellphone at home. I don't like the invisible leash. Last night I was sitting at Troost having a tequila for a nightcap. I kept feeling panicky over not having my Apple product in my pocket. I wanted to broadcast how panicky I felt for not having my phone on me to broadcast bullshit to the world. That was great.

  Last week I spent most of the money I worked hard to save on my vehicle getting new brakes etc. so it will be legal in NYC. I'm glad I could afford it but once again I can't afford a vacation. I'm spending the rest on new clothes and jewelry. I need something to feel good.

 The irony of it is I have a car to take daytrips. I rarely do. There is always a need to make money.

  Bought a necklace with the biggest bling from a very nice Colombian lady on Bedford. That feels good. She offered a nice conversation.

  Bought a bracelet from another lady on Bedford. No bracelet fits me. I have really thick wrist. I have a thick neck too and hats generally don't fit me either. But she made one for me on the spot. Rose gold. It's beautiful. We have a conversation about how each of us are custom built. That's the most truth I've gotten in weeks.

  New clothes and jewelry rock.

  Lately I've entertained the idea of getting a tattoo. A Mayan turtle. I love turtles. Then I read an article about tattoo artist in last weeks Timeout magazine. I realized getting a tattoo will put me in the 'in' crowd. That doesn't sit well with me. So, jewelry it is.

  And I like it.

j

Flags

  The other day I was teaching a guitar lesson to a young boy and he asked me "what's your religion?" I answered truthfully: I don't have one. He had a difficult time wrapping his head around that, in his world one belongs to a faith, that is what he is being taught so he asked me a few more times. I just gave him the simple true answer I gave above: I don't belong to any religion. No agenda, no need to explain and really, it's a guitar lesson, it would be really inappropriate and distracting to talk about my opinions when he can barely sit still enough to get through a round of "Smoke on the Water".

  I've never belonged to a particular faith. I consider myself spiritual, whatever that means to you, and I do believe in god, I just don't believe in anyone else's version of god. The versions I've been handed by other people, well, they just didn't ring true to me. The plants don't fear the sun or the moon or the rain, so why should I? It's as simple as the air we breathe.

  I've felt this way since I was about this boys age. I think it may be our highest duty to be as skeptical as we can be of another's version of how to live our lives.

  It took another few years for me to stop pledging allegiance to our flag. It was around late middle school. I chose to be silent. I'd stand up but keep the words inside. I was weird enough as a kid and didn't need any more abuse from those who agreed with the act. So I spent the next few years in silence and eventually even stopped putting my hand on my heart. I did go to school with a few kids that liked the idea of being in the military. They really turned me off to the whole matter. They were ready to kill for their country. One fantasized about going back to Vietnam and doing the job right. I learned quickly there was no point in arguing with them, they had swallowed the Coolaid long ago. And I was the freak. Thank god for them, the need to fit in was greatly diminished by the turnoff.

  So why am I writing this today? I watched a bit of the stupid Klan march on the news. I could see their symbol being waved around along with that nasty old German flag, and their salutes and all that other nonsense, then I saw those pretty black, green and red flags too with some folks holding their fist in the air. White Power! Black Power! Ugh..... There is no flag for a guy like me. It dawned on me, all flags are violent ultimately. They say "these are our ideals!" This is our identity. At best the US flag meant to me tolerance and the peculiar idea of freedom (Economic? Religious? Political?) but looking at our actions as a nation from day 1, we've always been at war, we've always had a need to dominate. Oh I'm not saying we don't have great things here, when I watch the world news I'm glad this is where I live. When I watch the US news I'm glad I chose New York City to live in. I am saying I'm not down with our behavior on this world stage. And that behavior is destroying us. I'm not down with self destruction.

  So what do I pledge allegiance to? That is a good question. The only thing I can come up with right now is knowing that ultimately we are all the same. The same matter, the same energy. I pledge allegiance to love and compassion as best as I can. I pledge allegiance to the living truth which has no path, no flag, no ideals, it is alive after all just like the sun, the moon, the trees, the air. I pledge allegiance to being good to one another and knowing that we may never be able to move away from the patterns and propaganda set down in holy books thousands of years ago. I pledge allegiance that I may be the biggest fool of them all by doing my best to question all of it. And maybe that would be my flag? I can dig that. I can't take the fool too seriously.

JB

The News

  On my good days I don't read the news. Sounds odd. Don't I want to be informed about what is happening in this world? No, not really. "Information is power". Really? How?

  The news is everywhere. I can view it on my phone in a coffee shop, or look to the column at the right on my Facebook feed and see what's 'trending'. Or even better, I can see the human horror show right in the center of my Facebook feed through my friends and 'friends' I've never met. It's a drug that is available 24/7 no matter where I am. I get to be reminded of how embarrassing humanity is. People fighting over bits of colored rags we call flags with our silly salutes and all that. People killing over words written by drunk and tripping people thousands of years ago.

  But information it power right? I need to stay informed right? How can I be a good citizen by not participating? Well, like I said on my good days I don't. It dawned on me the other morning that by reading the news, I may be contributing to the horror show. The low is how I get high. It harms me. There is nothing I can do about a person whose mind is warped and manipulated into a pattern deep enough to blow oneself up in a crowded market. There is nothing I can do about a horrible policeman who beat a man or woman to death. If it's in the news it has already happened. I'm well aware already, I don't need to be hit over the head again and again with the horror show. I already have the information. It's on repeat. It happens daily again and again.

  What I can do is just do my best to be a decent human being. Be kind to strangers. Love as much as I can from where I stand right now. Oh it may be futile and maybe I'm totally delusional but hey, the other way hasn't worked out at all. I'd be insane to think things will change by staying glued to the information parade. I do that and I get depressed, cranky, argumentative, righteous and I'm less capable of being kind to the rest of you. In that small 'butterfly flapping it's wings in China' way I've contributed to the violence in this world. That is no way to exist.

  I think it was Mother Theresa who once said she would never attend an anti war rally but if there were a pro peace rally she'd be there. I love that.

J

Big money, little creativity.

  I live in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. Right next to Williamsburg which may be one of the hottest real estate strips of land in the country. I've been here for about 2 years and have seen many businesses come and go already, almost all of the artist driven out being replaced with 'artist lofts' for some mysterious wealthy 'artist' to work in. I wasn't here 20 years ago when this was a sleepy, sketchy little strip of land so I did not witness the biggest change, I was living in Portland Oregon at the time where I got to take part in gentrifying the Alberta Street neighborhood, fled to the Mississippi district where my friends and I swore the developers couldn't find us but they did. This is a nationwide trend. What I saw in Portland brought a lot of mixed feelings, some joy (I ain't gonna lie, the Fresh Pot rocked and I love good coffee) and a lot of heartbreak (there is nothing like waiting to get that knock on your door telling you the reality: you don't own your place and it's time to go, you have been priced out. Not to mention you were a pioneer in a neighborhood where people didn't really want you. Oh some were nice, others had understandable resentment).

  So I live in a Polish neighborhood mixed with folks from Kashmir, Turkey, Guatemala, Ecuador etc. But largely Polish. I feel safe for now. I can rest a bit until September when the lease is up. That's a big question mark. Can I take on the lease or does the owner want to renovate and get more money. I'll be the best tenant that I can but this is just a part of the shuffle. I'm comfortable on many levels but I know the reality in Williamsburg is happening everywhere, even in Greenpoint.

  So I'm not writing this to slam people for wanting to make money, I consider myself a capitalist, I am a part of this system. So if you want a big pile of negativity about the rich on this post, please look at someone else's blog. I am writing this to present a series of soul searching questions. What exactly is happening and what does it all mean? I will admit I don't like it though I have come to accept it. One day I shall die and my voice won't matter. It may not matter at all now. I am powerless over it and there is little I can do except live my life to it's fullest and enjoy it as much as I can in my remaining time.

  So I'll start here. The other night I was out with a friend. I wouldn't really call it a date but that's a nice word and this has come up on other dates too. See, I don't really drink much any more and the people I tend to attract don't drink much either. So say the movie is over or the concert is over and you aren't ready to go home with that person but you still want to hang out and vibe with one another, enjoy the company. Going home is too intimate, but neither of you wants a drink. What do you do? Where do you go? There is an abundance of bars here, but so far I have not found one late night tea house or smoothie joint. And if there is a late night non booze joint its usually brightly lit and set up for college kids. No vibe, no atmosphere, bad music. You want the dim lights and romantic atmosphere the temples of booze present but without the vibe of drunk people. See, in my experience bars are just that: you drink and drink more for the possibility of getting laid. I'm being honest here, that was how I used them years ago. The boundaries go down then so do you. That used to work, good and shallow, at times fun but almost always regrettable. So what do folks interested in sobriety do? What do folks interested in something else do? Something creative?

  Further more could such a place survive? Rent needs to be paid monthly on the first. I've seen many good hearted people try to open all ages spots for music only to be hit with reality: booze is instant cash flow, a lot more than tea or smoothies. It creates a division: no one under 21 can come in any longer further dampening that young persons ability to hang out with older people who have lived longer. Younger people stay younger, influence each other and youth music stagnates. Doubt me? Teach kids like I do. Every time a youngster wants to learn something contemporary it's the same song as the last song I taught. Same chords, same melody, same emotionally manipulative arc, same beat. It's frightening the lack of diversity, the lack of risk....

  And that's what this article is about. Risk. I don't see money as a killer of creativity. I do see the compulsive need to massively increase the bottom line as the killer of creativity. Case in point is the music I just spoke of. 30 years ago top 40 radio was diverse. Today it's horridly fascist. Did anyone watch when Putin put the Medvedev in power? His acceptance speech? The music in the background was the same as the Olympic games. 120BPM 4 to the floor cheese ball house beat. I make music. It really freaked me out to see that. What are we doing to our little brains? Political speech boom bum bum bum boom bum bum bum......

  I went on a nice long walk the other day, the weather was heaven on earth and I have been working too much so it was great to have a day off. I looked at some of the many massive condos going into the neighborhood. A few of them have this retro 60's theme. I kinda like that. Nice colors, nice modern design past the first floor. The first floor however looks like the projects. Dull, dreary, blocky, almost 3rd world communist cheap. Then I start wondering about the insides of the rest of the building. The first floor represents that bottom line. Why not make it beautiful and welcoming? Why so cheap and ugly? Where is the opulence something I expect from a place that cost so much money to live in? I like a good hotel room, I love a good restaurant. I love the Chrysler Building. That is a true work of art. Is it really that much more expensive to make something really beautiful and lasting?

  And I guess it's like that. Ferraris were once beautiful cars. They are hideous to me now but at one point they had such class. The new ones, well at least they are ugly, they say something. I was pointed out this: You can buy an Acura or something else that performs as well as a Ferrari for much, much less so why not just buy the cheaper one? Well, the Ferrari has an ego attached to it. It has a designer who created that hideous thing. It makes a bold statement. It says 'risk'. It says perhaps "I am a douchebag, stay out of my way!" The Acura was formed by a committee. People coming together concerned about selling as many as they can. "We can shift more units of this baby if we just tame this down a bit" etc, and they are right. People don't like to stand out. The same comparative principle applies to buildings, bars, art and music. If we are going to sell a lot of these we can't take the risk of trying something new or too radical. People aren't going to like it so we need to stick with what works.

  So back to my date bit. Is it possible to build a temple of beauty, love, art, a place where people go and feel really good on a saturday night that has a great vibe but no booze? Is that too honest? Would there be a need for it? Would anyone but my crazy self frequent it? Would I frequent it? Could it make enough money to grow?

  Is there a temple to music that has no booze, where people of all ages are welcome that is beautiful, smells good, has a great vibe, nice lighting, isn't a church and doesn't feel like it's run by resentful communist? (I've played more than my share of punk rock DIY spaces and free improv houses and never, ever felt welcome though I do appreciate the spirit and the intent, just not my vibe). Would people really support it? Would I support it? Is there an audience for such places?

  One last note. Something I'm glad I witnessed. I played a little bar in Belgium years ago. When we arrived it was packed with high school kids who just finished their day. They were having a beer after class and had all of their book bags in a pile on the floor. Most of them went home, some stayed to see the band. None appeared drunk. There was such a trusting vibe there. I really liked that. So maybe the problem isn't booze but how we here in America use it (yes, I'm speaking of myself too). So maybe a non alcoholic spot isn't the solution, but more trust, more love, more faith in each others maturity. It's possible I think. Possible.

  -Jef

The root of my doubt

  Lately there has been a lot of change around my life. I'm being blasted out of my comfort cage. I sleep well, sometimes my dreams are mellow and sometimes they are intense but regardless I get about 3 seconds of bliss every morning as my eyes open before all the crappy anxiety pours in like a psychic cement truck.

  What is going on exactly? I've been through phases like this before but this is really disturbing.

  First I'll look at the positives. I live in my dream city. I'm slowly working on 3 records, one of which is close to being completed and is relatively easy, it's collaborative so it's harder to dawdle away. It feels stalled for some reason, both of us have been hit hard by the winter and I'm not sure we've recovered yet. The other 2 are far more naked. If course I'm scared. The first shows my production style more than my playing, the other 2 are all about my actual playing. I'm way more comfortable in the producer and writer chair than I am in the player chair. I know the first record is good and people will like it, I'm working with a really talented and interesting singer and her vocals bring the listener in right away. The other 2 are instrumental. I have a history of hiding through weird music. I don't want to make anything that is alienating. I happen to like people and I like having an audience.

  So I've been apt to not focus on the progress I've actually made and focus on the crap that bums me out: The trespasses I've made on friends last year (maybe former friends at this point, which is okay), the horrific state of top 40 music today and it's fear of trying anything new, Isis and where our pointless violence has led us all together, the news in general, the security deposit and my once again empty savings account.....

  Then you have the deep stuff. The list above is superficial and it goes on. What's under all of that?

  The trespasses I've made on friends: YOU DON'T DESERVE HAVE SUCCESS.
  The horrific state of top 40 music and the amount of fear to even try a new chord progression: YOU ARE NO EXPERT, YOU DON'T DESERVE TO HAVE SUCCESS.
  Isis and the news: PEOPLE HAVE IT SO MUCH WORSE THAN YOU, HOW DARE YOU! YOU DON'T DESERVE SUCCESS.
  My empty bank account: EVIDENCE! IF YOUR FINANCES ARE AT BOTTOM, IT'S BECAUSE YOU BELIEVE YOU DON'T DESERVE TO LIVE WELL!

  The last statement is the only one that actually rings true. It uses the word belief. We tend to get only what we think we deserve and we definitely get what we tolerate.

  One thing is certain. That part of my mind that is creating all this fear and anxiety just doesn't like to me to be exposed. And the more I step out of this cage, the more it screams at me. It's crafty. It's kept me safe all these years so it likes to trick me into thinking I owe it my life. I don't. It protected me when i was a child. I'm not a child any longer. So rather than suppress it, I'll just observe it as it lies to me over and over again.

  And I'll keep on pushing. I listen to that Curtis Mayfield track a lot these days. I think that's what that song is about for me. I've got my pride, and I move it on aside and keep on pushing.......

  Yeah baby.

Turtles and Elephants.

  I've written about my box turtle who escaped a well made 'turtle condo' in Beverly Hills and is now living the good life. I like that story. I miss having those little creatures around and even in their absence I learn a great deal about myself.

  Many of our self help books talk of this thing called the reptilian brain and it's negativity. We know how to survive, i.e.: make rent, bills, live just within our means and have a dreary day job that saps our energy and our complaints (our negativity which is supposedly reptilian) keeps us in that cage 'o comfort. We don't know how to thrive simply because thriving is out of our comfort zone so the reptilian brain tells us it's dangerous out there, we may not survive if we choose to really go for our dreams. We listen to that part of our brain that is just trying to help us out just as we listen to a fearful friend or family member who says "it's impossible, why bother trying?"

  I call jive to this. Let's look at the reptile in a positive light. Let's take a look at intelligence and conditioning and see it for what it has done.

  I've heard a heartbreaking story about Elephants in a circus. I love watching humans in the circus, but I haven't been to the circus since I was a boy. I simply hate the way animals are treated. When I lived in Germany I got to take a tour behind the scenes and see those poor creatures, the elephants. I'll never forget those enormous cages. I remember one was bleeding. I could swear they were all crying. I am certain they were depressed. From that moment on I hated the circus and it reinforced my bitter feelings about humans. The animals would be better off without our horrible ways.

  Elephants like us, are highly intelligent. Circus elephants are highly trained. The story goes like this: To train elephants they tie the young ones up to things that are much heavier than they are so they form the habit they can't just run away. As they grow they get much bigger and stronger than whatever the object they are tied to yet, that illusion of not having enough strength is what keeps them tied down.

  Once there was a fire. The elephants were tied to aluminum barriers that a child could easily move. They didn't believe they could overcome those barriers thanks to what some cruel, greedy, small minded humans exploiting them taught them. All of them perished.

  Now my little turtle friends, they never accepted their captive circumstances. Ever. Glass walls, a box, they never bought it. They were relentless in the pursuit of getting beyond those walls. Brains the size of peas or smaller. I don't think there was a warm day when they didn't scratch and scale those walls. They never gave up. No, I wasn't a cruel person who punished them, I didn't reinforce their attempts with mean behavior, but even if I was so stupid they wouldn't have bought it.

  I would rather think of that primitive "reptilian brain" in a positive light along with our highly intelligent "elephant brain". We know we are strong and capable. We know we can work towards bettering ourselves and our cruel conditioning doesn't need to dictate our lot in life. Those nasty friends, neighbors, teachers, family members who have done their best to project their fears on us don't need to influence us for one minute longer. We know we have a choice. If they are in the past, let them be with the past amongst the dead. If they still talk to us this way and try to keep us tied to an aluminum barrier, get new friends, join a support group and move on by any means necessary. Let your intelligent elephant mind work together with your intelligent reptile brain, the pea brain that never accepts the cage. The one that is always looking for something better and knows these walls are simply an illusion put there by someone else.

JB

I'm a man, yes I am.

  Today I was listening to some music by an Irish songwriter that didn't really move me one way or another, it was pleasant enough but what I did like about it was some of the songs, while modern, were clearly Irish. I grew up in a city that felt like a suburb here in the United States. I long for culture. I grew up with a confused version of culture. I feel somewhat lucky not having any really allegiance to a tribe, nation or a religion for that matter. Something seems dangerous about all of that to me. But I have spent most of this life totally confused when it comes to music. I guess that is why jazz appealed to me. Anybody who can play it can, well, play it. As an art form it borrows and steals from whatever musical form inspires the performer. It's what you make of it.

  Part of this peculiar culture has annihilated myths and ritual. This article explores that thing that confuses so many of us: what is a man? I didn't have a Bar Mitvah, elder tribesman kidnap me and take me into the woods to learn how to hunt, a Beautillion, confirmation or any of those things that announces: you are a man, get with some responsibilities NOW! And no, I didn't join the armed forces, maybe that would have done the trick but I doubt it.

  What triggered this writing was something an old girlfriend said to me during an argument several years ago. She was upset about something and asking for my advice and consolation, none of which seemed to be helping any. Then those words came out of her mouth: "I need a man right now".

  Damn that hurt. Hurt to the core. The moments leading up to it I made the mistake of trying to manage her anger. I did my best and failed. That happens. Not the end of the world but, it was the end of the relationship for me. Relationships are the hardest thing anyone will ever navigate. They can create and they can destroy. We form images of each other in a relationship and that relationship ceases to be the minute that happens.

  I laugh when I hear someone say they know me. No, you do not know me. You know some of my habits, rituals, moods, quirks, but you do not live in my head. You've idealized me and now you see something you don't dig so you want to change me into a creature that you really want. I don't live in your head and I will do my best to respect that. I will never know anyone....either that causes despair or relief.

  So what is a man? I went through a period in the mid 90's where I was in a relationship that was ending. I had moved to Portland and was in this new city which was dark and depressing much of the year as well. I wasn't particularly happy at this time and I was living with my girlfriend and a bunch of other people in a small house. I had no privacy. I became irritable and snapped at people. Sarcastic and rather cold. My girlfriend said to one of the other women in the house "Jef's become such a man all of the sudden". She was kinda happy about it I think. So I'm acting like a dry drunk and this is how a man is supposed to act? Irritable, short tempered, sarcastic, mean? Depressed? Confusing. It's not my true nature to act this way. In fact, it's just a lie. By nature, I'm happy, kind and I love to laugh. I take action when I need to and rest when I need to..... The judgmental, grumpy, perfectionistic, sarcastic dude is a liar. He's just trying to keep himself safe.

  So a couple days after the "I need a man" argument I was talking to a good friend of mine and we spoke about the incident. His question was simple: "Well, what kind of man do you want?"

  Thank God for friends who are so clear. That question removed the victim nonsense from me right away. There are as many different kinds of men as there are men. Actually, let me re-phrase that: There are as many different kinds of humans as there are humans. So the question "what is a man?" or "what does it mean to be a man" is so personal. It can only be answered by the person experiencing the body they inhabit during this strange temporary existence. And the older I get the less I care about fitting another persons idea of what a man is. It's just another absurdity like class, gender, religion, political party, nationality or any of the other divisive constructs we humans invent.

  So with no rituals and no myths and no real role models we are left to our own devices. We can only simply do our best to figure out "what a man is" for ourselves. I used to be upset about this but now I can only see it as an opportunity to be a bit more free from the boxes we are supposed to fit into. I see it as an opportunity to be a true Gentleman, or, a gentle man. Doesn't mean weak or passive, in fact I see it as the best kind of strength one can have. One that opens doors for anyone and has faith that doors will be opened for them. I see it as someone committed to change. Forced change almost never sticks. I mean, look at the "war on poverty", the "war on drugs", the "war on obesity". Haven't we learned? We can win every battle and still lose the war. But a true gentleman knows if you want lasting change you need to be cool with it, have faith and set a positive example, be a leader in the truest sense. One that proceeds despite all that doubt and fear. No I don't always succeed at this. The bits on the page above really are about me reacting to a fearful situation with my own fear. But, I do my best and that's all anyone can do.

  I do forgive those who I wrote about above as well. Only hurt people hurt people. I get that now.  I've said my share of hurtful things as well and I know those utterances were simply me creating my own illusions and feeding those beast.

  Now what can I do as a ritual that doesn't involve beer? At this age I still haven't been welcomed to 'manhood'. I don't know that I really need it but, it would be nice. In the meantime I'll just do my best to be someone who gets a groovy headstone then all this is over. I want to do more good in this world than I think is possible. I'll be the change I wish to see in this beautiful world. I like that man.

  J

Fear of visibility

  I just returned home from a walk in the cold. I'm becoming less of a fan of winter but I think if I walk more I can deal with it better. I need that exercise as today my anxiety, which has been historically low, has been on the high side of the meter.

  What is going on exactly? Well, it's the end of January and while I earned really well this fall, January was a bust. I needed to borrow from my savings I've worked hard for to make the rent. I don't like that. Part of it is I got used to earning a couple C-notes a day, that is my current standard, and this month I was ill for 10 days, my students were ill, a lot of things that are simply out of my control happened and I was too weak to do any real hustling. So today I actually felt that deep and horrible sense of shame around not being able to take someone out on a date cause I have little funds.

  Part of it of course is a result of choice. I gladly spent a lot on presents for the holidays, and I did so without any credit cards. I'm grateful that I have savings to draw from and I'm grateful I was able to buy gifts. Giving feels good. Being broke however, doesn't.

  But that's not it really. I've been worse before. Intellectually I know things will pick up again, in fact they already have. The faucet o' funds has gone from a slow drip to a trickle. I just need to make more calls and get out of my own way and I'll be on my way. So no, it's not about the broke. It's more about this: Today I decided I will never let myself get this low again. Ever. It's not acceptable. And that is coupled with a big picture item: I asked for success this year in my projects. I put a number to it as well. And....I can see it as a possibility. The lack of work and weakness this January has given me the time to create. Some of the stuff coming out is good, really good. Scary good. It may change my life. That bit about asking and the universe creating space, it's true. This isn't the first time, it's just the first time I've asked around the subject of music.

  I'm not scared. My patterns are terrified. They don't like this. They would rather see me dead. They are lying to me and today they are screaming at me. I feel them in my heart area. They want to take control so when I am more visible, they can show the world what a douche I really am so I will run back to their corner and hide. Hey, at the beginning of this blog I said I write here to practice being visible. I fear criticism, but now I'm less afraid of it, in fact, it doesn't bug me most days. My patterns hate that. They love to lead me to believe I'm right all the time rather than I'm human and right or wrong is really subjective in most cases.

  It could very well be that this slow month has just been exactly what I've asked for in motion. I really only have one skill that has the potential to earn me what I really want and that is music. It's the one thing the most time into.

  I asked God, Allah, Infinite Intelligence or whatever what I need to put down to move up. My computer died for a few days. I'm off my Netflix habit. Next answer is far deeper to solve:
I had a dream the other morning, a lucid dream. I was lying in my bed on my stomach and a woman was lying on my back. I could feel her weight. She was whispering to a man who was standing next to my bed: "don't wake him up" she whispered. I forced myself awake to get them out of my room and of course, there was no one there.

  What did it say to me? Stop carrying around other peoples business. Leave them alone. Be true to myself. That was the pattern: "don't wake him up". Don't say yes to other peoples projects or "love" just cause I feel I 'have to' or 'should' say yes. I have enough work to do. Another ones agenda is a huge distraction. It's one of the many ways to keep this life small and safe. It's weight and I don't need it. It's easy to hide out in a band or a job where someone else is running the show. No, I don't need to do that any longer. I need to expose myself and risk being called a 'sellout' or a fake or whatever unkind nonsense the jealous can come up with. Good god, who cares? What else is there to do in ones life but do ones best and put it out there?

  So today, this is what I'm feeling. I am getting exactly what I asked for and I'm in a state of resistance to that. When I feel anxiety I'm fighting the truth. I'm fighting love. I'm arguing with nature. It's futile. A waste of energy. A tree never fights the sun and never complains about the rain. It just sits there and provides shelter, beauty, oxygen, food, shade, it just gives service. So why would I complicate a relationship with nature?

  Ok, I feel better now. I hope the reader gains something from this post. Peace......

J

The rents are skyrocketing! Oh no....

  Every now and then I look at the ol' Facebook and see a post from one of my fellows in Portland where it seems the rents are just going bananas. "You can't find a 3 bedroom house for less that $1500 now, IT'S TERRIBLE! And the houses aren't even that good!!!!"

  Oh my. I don't even have words for how much I chuckle at this. I do empathize with the out of my control feeling of increasing rents. When I lived at 3614 North Michigan when my rent went from $200-$250 I was angry. I resented my slumlord, and yes, he was a true slumlord, for daring to ask more for his house he bought for $18k back in the 80's and did nothing to keep it up. It was indeed falling down.

  And yes, my rent was less than $300. When I had my storefront on Mississippi Avenue, the rent there was 'friend rate', $300. Prospective shop owners would ask me this every week and I would tell them and watch them turn beet red with frustration. I gloated, a little "eff you" to the new yuppie invaders.

  Wow, those last 3 paragraphs sucked.

  My last year in Portland I moved to 1818 SE Clinton. Had a 900 square foot one bedroom beautiful apartment for $875. It was the first attempt I made at living like a grownup. It felt really good. The management company kept the place up and were kind and mature. I realized with my cheap flophouse style of living I simply was no longer happy. I had fallen into the trap of looking for cheap rent and that being the priority. I always had weird and rather abusive dynamics with my landlords and I was always stressed out and resented paying the rent and oddly enough I was always......broke. Yes, even with my $250 room on Michigan Avenue I was broke. I had no savings. I worked 4 to 5 days a week. I wasn't happy. That's indicated by my sense of superiority towards my new neighbors. "See! I'm cool! I pay less than you ever will! I'm an artist!" Oy, that's gross.

  Today where I am writing this blog from I pay $925 for my bright little room in Brooklyn. That is cheap for my neighborhood. I looked on the Portland Craigslist and within 5 minutes found a studio apartment near my much missed Mississippi neighborhood for less than my room here. Oh I wish. It is a goal to live alone, live better, and I'm walking towards that goal every day. And besides, I need to be in NY, I love my life here so it's worth it to me.

  But what is so new to me is this: When I was hooked on cheap rent I was always stressed out. Stressed out in one of the mellowest cities in the USA and scraping together that little $250 rent and watching my checking account hover above zero the first of the month. Now I'm paying 4x that (I have a shared rehearsal space that cost another C-note) and I live in a city that is notoriously stressful, rude, nasty, and yet I feel calm most times. I make my rent with ease and have some money building up in the bank. And here's the thing: people have this illusion that you earn more money in NYC relative to other cities. No, I'm still earning roughly the same amount. It's eeking up as I focus on earning better but really, my taxes say it loud and clear: I'm on the cusp of poverty level when you look at the numbers.

  So what has changed?

  My habits first of all. I worked hard to give up all that resentment of people with money. I was $28k in debt when I left Portland. No, I can't blame Visa or the 1% people on that. I did that. I learned to pay attention to what I do bring in and how I spend.

  When I lived in Portland one day it dawned on me I was giving the Fresh Pot on Mississippi Avenue $300 a month. Yes, $3600 a year. Coffee and croissant plus tip 2x a day=$10 X 30 days. Hollow calories and yes, I was getting fat. I make my coffee at home now and it's better than any coffee shop. I reserve the coffee shop for meeting friends in and hanging out now. It's a treat, not a habit. And trust me, it was a tough habit to break.

  I also ate out an average of....3 meals a day. Again, great way to stay fat and broke. A great way to never value oneself. Making food can be a spiritual experience the same way making music, love, starting a business can be. If I'm not cooking daily, I'm missing out on time being alone or with a loved one. I'm probably rushing about not smelling the roses. I was always in a hurry in those lazy days, I like being busy but I identify it as this: I liked to look busy. I liked to think I was busy. It seemed like I was getting things done yet, I never completed 1/3 of my projects. The sense of urgency is really not necessary and will never get me anywhere.

  And that was just it. Coffee and bread 2x a day with no nutrients, no spending plan and no clear goals equals vagueness. I got high on "vagueing out". I could sit in my cold, dirty Michigan Avenue house and "be right" about my yuppie scum neighbors. I could hang out and complain about the world, a world I had no part in changing. Depression is the drug and I was hooked. Thing is, I don't thin anyone really likes being hooked. I didn't, that's why I was depressed. So I'm grateful to the folks around me at the time who were honest with me and led me to believe I could do better. Those who said "you know, you complain a lot, and you get sick a lot!"

  Really it came down to not having a spending plan. Taking the attitude of "how do I control my money and not be controlled by money?" Like a friend said when I was at my financial bottom: "If you can't manage thirty bucks right now then you can forget about managing $30,000 let alone a million. You will be broke in no time."

  I was a part of this soul band with some young folks when I lived there. They asked me about the rent and I told them. Their eyes lit up. "Cool!!!!" I said: "young men, shoot higher, this low rent business is a trap. Have a dream or you will turn 40 like me looking for the next abusive and tense situation to move in merely cause it's cheap andYOU ARE NOT CHEAP!"

  I think I've broken the cycle. It's taken a decision to do so and a lot of practice and an enormous amount of love and support from my friends. Like I said, I empathize with my Pacific West Coastians, I don't enjoy feeling out of control of my destiny. I hated hearing people say "if you are not part of the solution you are part of the problem". I still don't buy that. That was the rhetoric in my punk house days. I like to think of it like this: "If I am not happy the problem is me." I'm a human being. I'm good at solving problems. That is what we do best. If I can solve my problem with the help of others, I can help others solve their problem too. And I do love to help.

  Beginning to think.....it's all just a state of mind.

J

The fear of "meh....."

  What is my deepest fear? Why do I tolerate that fear? Why do I worry about it and why do I tolerate that worry?

  Fear of death? Nah, that's not it. I have no control over when and where I will be called home, I do have control over how I treat my body, eating right, not drinking too much, exercising, wearing a bike helmet if I bike. But ultimately I fully accept I'm not going to be here forever. Life on Earth for me is a temporary experience bookended by the 2 greater mysteries: where did I come from and where am I going. We'll get back to this in a few paragraphs because I feel like some of my actual fear arises in my silly human attempt to answer these questions by believing in what so called 'holy' men have told me to believe centuries ago.

  Fear of success? Not so much any more. I accept that with success comes more responsibility. Even the success of marriage and starting a family. Think about our language: "so Jef when are you going to settle down?" No thank you. Why do we think of marriage and family as "settling down?" I don't wish to settle down.....perhaps committing to another human to build something needs to be looked at as "stepping up", which to me really is the truth. Bringing a life into this world is bringing more energy into it. The language "settling down" has really kept me from "stepping up" to that plate, and while I am happy sitting in my bright little room with a meager bank account surrounded by my instruments, I think that is most unfortunate. How did I turn 46 without experiencing the ring? I don't view this as "escaping marriage" or any other cute little thing, I meet men and women daily who are baffled by this in themselves.
 
  So it must be the fear of failure or fear of rejection.

 Nope. I've failed so many times in this life. That isn't what stops me from trying. And really I can look back and be happy I've had so much failure, I have made attempts but that failure really can be summed up in this: my lack of commitment. My lack of following through to the bitter end. There is a fear that paralyzes me, on greater and deeper than death itself.

  It's the fear of "meh, whatever." The fear of mediocrity. Nothing causes more terror in this soul than this. It creates its own monster over and over again. It may be the only thing I feel victimized by and I am no victim.

  "To become a success is to become a sellout". I hear this over and over and over again in the field of music. And look at the examples of success we have to prove this: Kenny G, thousands of hours of the same bland hip hop tracks I hear pumping from war canoes in the street, music in the same low vibe movie Hollywood produces again and again and again. To be a success is to "settle down" into a mediocre place of pleasing people again and again.

  Look at the nature of being a politician. You cannot take a chance. 300 million people will blame you for leading us wrong in a nation where we supposedly are the leaders (I still know this to be true). So the politician can only find the bland middle ground to keep a job. There are no true radicals. If you choose to take a giant step you will be out of a job with millions of people blaming you in a sea of self pity too lazy to raise our voices and actually change what we want to change. So the politician settles down into a role of being respectable. Is being respectable being alive? Being your natural, eccentric, excellent self? I don't think so. Who really wants that? Who really wants to settle down? My core being would rather die.

  Can we imagine a world where success meant stepping up into our most excellent selves regardless of whatever reward we may want? If the reward was "wow, you are actually being honest and that is enough". Can we imagine a world where we didn't say "settling down" and replaced it with a more positive "stepping up" when it comes to commitment and responsibility?

  It is a challenge in this world we have created, a world that encourages and even rewards mediocrity. It starts the minute we are born and last until we realize we don't care what anyone thinks about us and if we are lucky enough to wake up from this bad dream, we have a day where we don't compare ourselves to anyone else. We are unique beings, we can contribute in a unique way to this beautiful temporary existence. And this existence is temporary. I have seen amazing changes with friends who had near death experiences. Heck, in my 30's I though I was going to die. My energy for about 2 years was just...low. I had no idea what was going on but I must have decided to live and have as much fun as I could. When I think about that time, I was having a good time. I pissed off a few people but that's really not my problem. My creative output was really high at this time as well. I got my health back (simple matter of sleep apnea and the cure was to sleep on my stomach!) and have continued to live and create but, this fear lately has been gnawing at my neck the more I step up for this life.

  I can feel it when I talk about what my vision is, goals are and steps I'm taking to actualize that vision. It's a physical feeling. This horrible dullness. It feels evil. Satan is a boring chap, hopelessly boring. Dull as dishwater. We all

have a little bit of the devil inside of us and he always whispers in our ear: "conformity is the way, be respectable."

  Man what are you talking about? Isn't it the devil that tells us to be all crazy?

  What is crazy? Partying too much? Writing generic misogynistic  hip hop music with lots of swear words? It's all adhering to a pattern is it not? Buying a house you can't afford? Joining a church and being told how to live? Loving thy neighbor yet killing him slowly with jealousy while messing up ones own groove by out buying him with that new car? Why do these things? Cause someone you deem more successful than you has done them? I don't know. All of the above is pretty dead and boring to me. The devil bores me, always did, always will.

  Fear dulls my days. Mediocrity and fear are worth a lot of money to those who thrive on a low vibration. I don't fight it, I am powerless over it. I just do my best to not participate. It's so slick. The fear creeps in slowly through all those advertisements I see on the G train and all the language of people I interact with. Powerless. On my good days I can just observe and be aware, then proceed to the best of my ability....and don't watch the news.

  So how did I get here in this moment where I am happier but not satisfied with my little life? I wasn't raised religious myself but had plenty of exposure to the concept of heaven. "Oh this life can suck cause it's all about the afterlife, yeah, the afterlife will do." Will it? Can one prove to me that there is an afterlife? That I will come back as a president or a rock star next time?

  Hmm. I think we found a root of this colossal laziness, maybe the root. At least for me it's possibly the root. It's information handed to us from thousands of years ago written down by people high on wine and eating moldy bread causing hallucinations. Dude, when a guy tripping on acid tries to tell me how to live I tell him to shut up.

  What if this is all the time I do have? Then what?

  If that is my mind set I'm more apt to live better. Oddly enough I've lived in this silly idea that if I live a proper life (which I've thank God, FAILED at so completely!!!) I will be rewarded in heaven, if not I burn in hell. Maybe it's just what we make of life. Hell exist on Earth just as Heaven does. It's really about owning my mistakes for me. If I avoid them, I create my own hell, my own miserable, craptastic hopelessly boring mediocre hell. What is heaven for me? It's owning my stuff, taking responsibility and stepping up making the best music I can make, the best treatment of others I can give, being of the best service I can be. It's taking the best care of myself and others as I am capable of.

  What's been given to me as the language of marriage, success, it's rooted in the hell concept (settling DOWN, selling OUT, DOWN & OUT!). It's no wonder I haven't given these things my all. And to now make waves and be respectable is to get to heaven. Oof.

  So for now it's stepping UP and looking IN. I like this vibe much better. Perhaps I'll build me some heaven this way, or perhaps not. Whatever the results, it's new to me and I am an explorer.

J