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