The man with the brass shins...

2010-04-07T02:08:00.000-07:00

His name was Richard, a stout man with a major resolve etched into his face. Redish blonde hair, 45 or so. He brought his son with him, who would echo Richard's more profound statements. He introduced me to the Bible in ways that I had never considered. He gave me a long treatise on the the man from King Nebuchadnezzar’s dream. About a statue with a man with clay and iron feet. It would only take one stone to take down this statue because of the clay feet.

The statue supposedly reflects the world powers that are in charge of the world when Jesus returns to rule here on earth.

I won't go into the interpretation of the the statue in King Nebuchadnezzar’s dream. This is not blog about Christ and his return. I actually respect (but don't agree with) this world view because much great thought and artistry has gone into this and I wish I could become more expert in these matters. It's a fascinating part of the Bible.

But the fact remains that his interpretation in the Old Testement, the Book of Daniel, is profound and edifying whether one believes it or not.

I even went to his Church. The "ceremony" was mostly about ways to recruit people into the fold. Often there were salesman-type ploys, right out of the Thirties, that might work in the proselytizing phase of recruiting new Christians.

I was not impressed. I once had a friend who showed me the tricks of the trade in the magagzine subscription business. It was full of the same tricks. I am almost always willing to listen (for a while) to someone who was engaged in a cause with true conviction, something that an ordinary person could pick up on from across a room.

Im my studies with Richard I found myself, much to his chagrin, in more of a scholarly mode. He would often accuse me of just wanting my ears tickled and he was right. After about 20 meetings, Richard, after his strong critique of cunnilingus and my tendency towards not having a problem with cunnilingus. His position was that it was a thing with lower animals and that humans should not indulge in this practice. I felt like any practice between loving and consenting adults, unharmful, should not be considered a perversion. He, I think, decided that I was beyond help, wished me well, and departed.

I can't say that I was devastated. I felt that Salvation, if it really existed, was not about tricking people into the Gospel. It had to be a kind of cosmic realization. I decided that my only way to Salvation was to ask for Jesus to come into my life and take over my destiny. I was willing to give up my life (my ego) if Jesus would take over for me. I wanted to have world where he people followed Christ. With things like the New World Order taking over, the horrible deeds of our government, with most every utitlity, business or banks and just common department stores turning predatory, I would have accepted Christianity as the most reasonable choice.

Problem is, as far as I can see, the whole world of Christendom, with ver few exceptions, has become predatory. pardon my digression. With the "Christian" power elite's entry into politics, trying to legislate their view of morality, it's a rather hopeless picture. There are no more true Christians, no more Conservatives. There are just people trying to pry their way into some kind of imagined power.

For days, I prayed for forgiveness, for some guidence from above. Nothing ever came but a gradual and most profound realization. My destiny was something I had to take over. It wasn't up to imaginary beings or subjecting my self to the control of others. I was not a lost boy, but a young man who found found himself.

Next blog: My road to personal salvation.

Needing God

2010-03-13T09:44:00.000-08:00

Isn't there enough about religion already? I'd say "yes" if you were talking about quantity. But there's really very little reasonable rhetoric up for the "other side," the side that questions authority, things that don't really float, things that look like ways to control others rather than to truly enlighten.

Here's an uplifting story about a guy who was really down and out and sought out redemption and found it. I was 28 years old living in a small rent house in a poor but charming section of Dallas. I had just returned from living in Hollywood where I worked as a studio musician and had a failed record album and a failed marriage. A little about L.A...

L.A. is where you go if you want to happen. You make you preparations (learn to act, get fit, etc.) and go there. One thing you learn fast in L.A. is that when you go on a movie set, most of the crew (not necessarily the actors) are extremely fit, better looking than most of the lead actors in the movie, and exude this friendly "can do" attitude. Why is that?

Because almost everyone in Hollywood wants to be a star (so they try to look like stars) and those that hire crew would rather have good looking peeps on the set who look competent than a bunch of fatties or frailies who could have a heart attack any moment.

The secret to success in Hollywood:
1. Get fit and look fit or they just won't want you around. Fat is for those at the tail end of their careers.
2. Learn your craft very, very well whether you're a musician, an actor or a set carpenter. Incompetence is not tolerated.
3. Never argue with a superior. Egotism is the most common personality trait that possesses any one in charge. Cater to their egos until you have really good footing or you get to go home.
4. Bring lots of money. It's really expensive in L.A. and you don't ever want to be convicted of the worst crime in Hollywood: being broke.
5. I almost forgot to mention. Don't be married or, if you are married, leave him or her at home. That will really get in the way and rob you of many key opportunities to pitch real decision makers that you meet at parties. Making pitches at social gatherings are much more effective than having offical meetings.

Don't get me wrong. I would rather be in Hollywood than anywhere because it's the SuperBowl. It's where you can make things (the kind of things I do) happen and, despite all the necessary outward posturing, there are many great people there and many unbelievably talented people. One fact remains stable: It's more who you know than what you know. OK. Enough about Hollywood...

When I returned to Dallas I moved in with a guy that owed me money. I had very little of it myself. After a lot of aimless self-pity, it wasn't that long before I owed him money. My wife of 10 months divorced me. I decided to return to a trade I knew something about growing up. My father was an architect and built a lot of spec houses in the 50's. I had worked as a carpenter's helper summers while I was growing up and knew how to drive nails, frame a house and read plans. I managed to get a job and suddenly I was self-sufficient again. Sort of.

In Dallas and just about everywhere else I went in those days (they are not so different now), the use of drugs was all over the place. When I say drugs, in Dallas and amongst my friends and acquaintances, hardly anyone did not enjoy marijuana, speed (meth and prescription diet drugs), downers, and psychedylics. Plus many of them drank a lot, too. I find no problems with pot, but I have no sympathy for those who do meth, prescription pills, and psychedelics.

I still had musician friends in Dallas. If one was a musician, you could factor in two times the drug usage of a carpenter. Carpenter work on houses is physically demanding, carrying the lumber, lifting the joists, and driving the nails. A carpenter would typically have a beer or two. Scotch or rum and coke was always my preferred escape and I used them very lightly except on days when musicians would come over to jam. I would do anything then.

Even though I was on little better trip (pro survival is better) than most of my contemporaries, I still felt like I was a failure and I longed for a life with a real purpose. I was an able songwriter, guitarist, singer and half-ass carpenter. I felt I had so much to say and do with my life. So much of it had been pissed away by drugs and the idiotic need to impress my friends. I was going on thirty and didn't have a clue with how to get my life together and live a life of purpose.

One Sunday afternoon I had a date with a sweetheart of mine of three years prior. One of my seemingly brighter friends earlier had given me a pill that I never experienced. He seemed to be a voice of reason amongst my hippy friends.

He said, "This is called woodrose. It's a psychedelic from Hawaii from the woodrose tree. It will get you really high but you will be in control and no one will know you are high."

That seemed pretty good to me, so I popped the little red pill going out of the door to my date with the lovely Maybelle, a successful model with unbelievable legs.

On the way over to Maybelle's house I noticed that the woodrose was really taking me over. It was a very strong and hard-to-manage psychedelic. I could drive but I was having weird visions and thoughts. Everything had some kind of ominous significance. I had taken on many drugs but this one really was out of my league.

I got to her house and she answered the door very friendly and eager to have a great afternoon. Totally embarrassed, I realized that I could not hide my high and that I may not be able to maintain myself. I confessed at taking this pill and apologized deeply. Her answer was, "Do you have any for me?"

Looking high among the pillars
Your magic dulled the crowd.
I ain't seen you since the '66 floods
Did you save all my letters.

I was shocked at the fact that she had a veritable basket case at her front door and she was wanting to do be in the same basket. I tried to explain that this drug was a mistake and that I wish I hadn't taken it. She was somewhat miffed but agreed to go with me anyway. When we got back to my house I had gotten worse. I said, "I just want to lie down on my bed and hold you for a while. I just need this right now. The whole world feels like it's upside down and I need something real to hold onto until I get over this thing. We lay in the bed and held each other.

I was finally getting better. But suddenly some musician friends showed up at my doorstep with their axes ready to boogie. I answered the door and told them to set up and I would be out in a minute and told them I was needing to ride out this most fucked up substance called woodrose. (Yes, they all wanted some.) They came in and started playing after a while. I finally was drawn to the music and my woodrose crisis seemed to be washing away.

I got up and visited with my buddies who were passing joints, much to Maybelle's pleasure. We were all having a good time when this middle aged man with a kind of built in sour puss expression came to the door with only the screen door separating this apparition from us in the living room.
He said something about some statue with feet of clay and legs of brass (heck, I can't remember) and some entity was coming to reek vengance on us. Many of us would reel at ever third of fourth consonant and all of us wished this that this guy would leave. I was fascinated with him.

I finally told him, "Uh, we are musicians practicing. They are all leaving in a couple of hours. Could you please come back later on? I was really afraid of this guy.

In his best Arnold he said that he be back in a couple of hours.
On my way to taking Maybelle home, there was a very strange thunder storm which rained literally baseball size hail. I was able to pull in under an overpass and wait it all. But, considering my rather vulnerable state of mind, I was a bit over whelmed by the afternoon. After dropping off Maybelle, I went home. I walked aimlessly around in the house and then went outside where I had a rather large home garden that looked like it needed some work.

I took comfort in digging through the dirt with my bare hands as though I was experiencing the dirt, the wonderful, sweet smelling earth was home to the plants that we would eat. I was feeling really good and could not stop kneading the earth of my garden, thinking that my soul and mind were finally in a good direction. Surprisingly in the middle of this semi-catharsis, Maybelle and her boyfriend were leaning on my fence.

If you should catch me starin'
What would your first question be?
Why don't you come down from the pillars, my dear,
And drink some wine with me.
I'd take one look at you, my tongue would only freeze.
Baby, baby, baby, I ain't ready for you.*

Maybelle introduced her friend. “We were wondering where we might get some of this woodrose,” she asked.
“Listen, this stuff is not good. I really had a tough day today because of it,” I answered.
“Looks like you’re doing ok, now.”

Gratefully, Richard, the man at my front door, walked up.
“Nice little garden you got there,” he said. Maybelle and friend departed politely. And I was alone with a man who really knew his Bible.

*From a song I had on my album "Half a Month of Maydays"
Maybe Summerbells, a song written about Maybelle.

Next blog is the man with the brass shins change my life.

Wishing For God

The man with the brass shins...

Needing God