When I Say Punk Rock, I Mean...

I started this draft in 2014... let's see if I can finish it up, finally...

This is how many hair bands I go through in a month... (photo by Charlotte)

When I say "Punk Rock," I mean not necessarily what you might think that I mean.*

*this was as far as I got in 2014... now, today (03/31/2019) I shall try to finish it...

When I was a young noob growing up in a farm community in Ohio - a place I absolutely did not fit into and did not get along in, no matter how much I tried. And I did try! Oh, yes, I did. But I liked art, music, and theatre. That made me a weirdo. Especially since I was not a big fan of country music or metal. Also - my dad's family was pretty prominent in the town but, as pointed out by my cousin's wife one time recently, not for "good" things necessarily... more "infamous" things.

Like being weirdos.

Not that we were THAT weird, honestly. But my immediate family into art, music (not country or metal... or contemporary christian music - which was kind of a thing at the time), and theatre did not fit into this back woods kind of town. And our extended family - into motorcycles, high end construction work, and academics... without a lot of the usual drinking at going to bars that seemed to take up the time of a lot of people.

PLUS my immediate family is not, nor ever has been, rich. Rich people get to do whatever the fuck they want wherever they may find themselves. They get a pass to be weirdos. Or break the law. Or just be fucking assholes no matter where they go.

Fuck those fucking fucks...

In their fucking goat asses.

Anyway -- that aside... SO I grew up not rich and weird in a small town. This meant I, personally, hung out with other artist, weirdo, loaner types - who were also not looked upon favorably in our little rural Ohio community. We looked at ourselves as "punk rock."

Now, understand, that in the late 1970s and VERY early 1980s, being "punk rock" was pretty hard. There were no Hot Topics (hell - there were barely malls out in the sticks), there was no internet to connect you with shops in London or New York, no cool "indie" newspapers, and there was little chance of finding out about a tour by the Dead Kennedys or any of that shit because they sure were not coming out to the sticks. And unless you knew anyone in a bigger town or city where they WERE coming, who could clue you into it. There wasn't even MTV to introduce you to new music!

And get, too, that we still considered The Sex Pistols to be the ultimate representation of punk. We did not understand they were just another boy band... (photo from http://theduran.com/conservatism-is-not-the-new-punk-rock/)

I cannot speak to every small town, but if you wanted to be "punk rock" in a rural southwest Ohio farming community - and, by that, I mean wearing leather clothes littered with studs, have ear & body piercings, listen to punk music, and having a punk band - here is what you had to do:

1. Get leather collars, studded belts, lengths of chain, nylon straps, and other bondage & pseudo bondage gear by going to the local pet store to buy (or steal) it, then piece it all together yourself as best you could. Expect strange looks from the staff. One of them may call your mom to ask when you got a new herd of dogs.
2. On a trip to a city, stop off at one of "those" sex shops in the questionable part of town - or while on the road with someone willing to stop by one of those questionable truck stops (that are obviously just sex shops) - swing on in and look for the serious bondage stuff. Sure, you're gonna get hit on by some greasy dude (or few) who are there cruising. That just adds to your imagined "street cred." For the most part, though, the place is filled with dudes not making eye contact with anyone else as they pick up their porn (a lot of it is weird fetish-y stuff, too - little girls-type shyte). You can pick up a bunch pretty much anonymously, but if someone who knows you sees your car in the lot - they're gonna call your mom to ask what you're doing there. For sure.
3. Tear out an ad from the back of the Rolling Stone magazine - or even Hit Parader which, for the most part, loved rock-n-roll and the coming hair band trend, but were more than willing to just let anyone advertise in the back of it for merchandise - and mail it in with a money order to some PO box in a big city for punk band logo merchandise, EPs, LPs, and (finally) cassettes to get the music. First time you send it in, you have no idea what you are getting or even if you will like it... but it has to be better than what the local FM radio station is shoving in your earholes.
4. Even better was to get a bunch mimeographed pages that one of your buddy's older sibling or cool uncle who went off to college sent back, that was effectively gold for punk rock stuff! Music (usually re-recorded audio cassettes of low quality) of bands you had never heard of, shirts with logos of these bands (sure to offend everyone around you), "real" bondage pants from London, Doc Marten boots & shoes, hats, bandanas, and all the accessories... then, if you could, you send well-concealed cash to a post office box in New York City - and then pray that you don't get ripped off before your stuff arrives.
5. There was a constant stream of kids from larger cities coming into the town. Either their folks had to move there, or they were exchange students from Europe. Either way - they were miserable to find themselves stuck in this little town. If you were lucky, these kids were cool (usually, they were not...), and could put you in the direction of stores or catalogs. That is how I found out about Commander Salamander.

The Commander Salamander Catalog was the gold standard of cool catalogs for me for YEARS! A guy who moved to our town had been to the store in Washington D.C. - got me my original catalog, then I managed to finagle my way onto a mailing list to get a couple more... I could never buy anything from there. My parents wouldn't let me... I recently found a couple of these old catalogs as my parents clean out their house and gave them to my 9-year-old daughter. She thinks they are the greatest thing in the world - because they are. You can & should buy this print from Steve Shook: http://www.steveshook.net/product/commander-salamander-cmyk-edition

If you wanted a piercing - you had to do it yourself. AND, understand, that guys with pierced ears was NOT the norm at the time at all. They were sending you home from school if you had an earring. Churches were preaching against you. People driving by on the street would flat out chuck their beer at you and, if feeling provoked, jump out of their car to pummel you! And your parents - knowing damn good and well you might get accidentally killed by some redneck flipping out over the fact there is a man in front of them wearing an earring, which goes against everything they have ever understood is right and just with the world - aren't going to let you get a piercing, either. That meant that when you left your house, you took an earring (often stolen by one of my friends, who would sneak the cheap ones off the display cards at the drugstore, then slip them in his mouth to get them out) and just punched it through your ear when you went out... then took it off when you got home before anyone saw you.

Was it really that risky? Oh, yeah - because...

There was a risk to wearing these clothes, listening to this music, and doing these things. These farm kids around here are going to kick your ass for being different. And they can! Seriously, years of dealing with farm animals, fixing tractors, and bailing hay have made them all freakishly strong. Their conservative christian churches literally preach against you, personally, so it honestly completely makes it okay in their eyes and they eyes of the town to beat you up. I never thought anyone wanted to really kill me - but I realized that they did not necessarily know their own strength or to the level of violence things could get - and that it might accidentally happen. 

While I did not like getting beat up - I do have to say it taught me how to take a punch, and usually was a surprise to everyone (including me) when I took a pretty hard shot to the chin and was still standing. That means something. After a couple times of not immediately collapsing, the attempted assaults stopped...

and I usually didn't cry until afterward...

But it toughened me up. I can take the insults. I can take the punches. When the time came I finally grew bigger, got stronger, and then after I learned how to really fight - I realized that I honestly (and finally) had a choice about whether to walk away or stand and fight. Choosing to walk away is a much different thing than having to walk away...

Additionally, I got better at taking risks. No one was going to help me - and it meant that much more when someone was willing to help out with some crazy idea that I had - and I got used to doing it myself. I better understood the Do It Yourself (DIY) prerogative that is such a big part of being "punk rock." 

So when I say "punk rock," I am not talking about heading down to the Mall (or, hell, even the Walmart these days) to pick up some stuff to look "edgy." Especially because you'll just look as "edgy" as the next cat who came in and got the same stuff. Too easy now. Too contrived.

When I say "punk rock," I am talking about the DIY ethic. Standing up, against the crowd, and making your own way in the world. Following your vision. Following your own lead. Making it happen yourself and helping others to get their hand up as well. Getting shit done your way.

Here is the old Commander Salamander shot... or is it...? They rebuilt a version of it for the new Wonder Woman movie!! The original store closed in 2010. Sad.

Shyte - and F*ck a Duck - It Has Been WAY Too Long

NOTE - the original date on this draft is sometime in 2016. I got shut out of the blog for a bit (who knows why...) - so now I am trying to make up for it.

This is not the answer.

A few days ago I found out that someone I had planned to work with... someone I had put some faith in... has fucked around and done me wrong!

I hate that.

But the real question is, "what do you do about it?"

Unfortunately, if you are me - the first thing that comes to mind is that you should kill yourself.

Bathroom selfies are the answer.

THUSLY - I take my meds, I go to both a psychiatrist AND a therapist regularly. As of this date in 2018 (2 years after starting this draft), I have been through three therapists and two psychologists... I do not know if it is me wearing them out or not - but it sure feels that way.

My shrink asked me the other week if this continuing desire to kill myself is more of a fetish than anything

Now there was something I had not considered before! Is this constant thing that brings about some kind of sexual gratification. Is it a kink more than anything? Eh...

Since that conversation, I have been analyzing when I am overcome by the desire to off myself - and I really find it is when I get overwhelmed by... whatever. So it appears to be more of an anxiety attack than anything else. Sometimes they are more frequent than others - the busier I stay, then less chance I have to be overwhelmed. For example, I was asked to build a couple of props for a rap group to use on stage at a festival they had hired us to perform at. By the time it all shook out - I had two days to build the props before getting them to the venue where the shows were, PLUS get my own cast of people together and get THEM there, too...

It was wacky, super-stressed, and worrisome over that week - but, yet, I did it all... getting it pretty much all done on schedule with everyone getting where they needed to be, shows happening on schedule, getting everything set up and the props delivered in a timely fashion. Overall - a real success!! And not once that I remember, did I feel the desire to end my existence in a response to anything happening. 

Was it because things went smoothly? HELL. NO.

It was complete insanity the entire time. My stress level was so high - but all I could do was knuckle under and work to get things done. There was no time to think or plan (except with my feet moving and keeping things moving forward) - so there was no time to let anxiety get to me.

Sure - I still get anxious at the grocery store, or sitting trying to plan through things. I cannot remain super busy all the time, but...

Maybe I am on to something.

And now I'm feeling pretty good about myself.

My Thoughts For Today (part 3 or something...)

Listening to album Prince on Hoopla

Grrr... Arg...

Once again - it has been over a year since I have written in this blog.

Time is something of my enemy... it slips away like the fall leaves from a tree. One good rain and the tree is bare.

BUT I am striving now to really try and keep it together. To spend time doing what I should be doing, which is a lot of writing and getting things under control.

Been controlling my mood and the like through semi-regular counseling sessions and the smallest amount of mood-enhancer possible. It is all I can take without hallucinating.

The good part is no suicide attempts since the last one!

It talking to my shrink - who is pretty cool - the biggest part is just forcing me to parse out my thoughts. My general speech runs in along a line of thought - then loops off and makes its way back to the point that I am working on. It is distracting for some people, I have been told. But, overall, I find it the easiest way to communicate because each of those "loops" is a story that helps explain the point I am trying to get across.

Yesterday in our session, she made me explain some of my overall thought process to her using some analogies so it would be easier for her to understand. This was especially important in the process of rebuilding my company - which we are in the middle of doing. I am going to post a blog about that process here (https://freakshowdeluxe.wordpress.com), if you want to read it.

My weight is still up - mostly because I still really like drinking. A couple new pills I am taking are helping to alleviate my high blood pressure - so no complaints there, EXCEPT for having to take more pills, which I hate.

I have just so much on my mind... especially with Prince dying so young and unexpectedly. The world is a little darker without his light in it. Wrote a blog about it on one of my OTHER blogs, which you can check out here: http://datingtipsfortossers.blogspot.com/2016/04/what-prince-taught-me-about-dating.html

So, there you go. A LOT of stuff on my mind right now -- and now I need to make sure I get it all out in the world, where it needs to be.

My doctor told me to cut back to 2 beers a day. It's tough - but done.

My Thoughts for Today

Watching Blindness on SyFy

I'm thinking of keeping the beard

I have habits.

One of my habits is, at the end of the FreakShow Deluxe season, to let my beard grow in. Then, once we get the first show of the year, I cut it all off... in a series, usually.

This year, however, I really do not feel like cutting it off. We have a show this weekend, too -- but I just don't feel like it. There are other shows at the end of the month, too, which I guess, technically, I should cut it for (as we are totally doing our "Addams Family" show)... But I don't want to.

I don't feel like bathing, either. Though I am washing my face & junk every day. Putting on clean underwear & socks. I set up a weekly schedule for the family - and that schedule includes showers (with hair washing & shaving & stuff) on Sunday & Thursdays. Any one can take a shower any other day they want, of course, but everyone is required to completely bathe those two days.

I have yet to do it.

Have been having a continuous ringing in my ears. Went to my doctor - apparently, my blood pressure is through the roof... Possibly my cholesterol is really high, too. Anyway - she thinks the ringing in my ears (tinnitus) may be from my elevated blood pressure. It may also be because I am losing my hearing, too. My left ear no longer catches all the sounds, apparently. During my hearing test yesterday, I nearly missed a couple other sounds too (at low volume registers). This should not come as a complete surprise, I guess - there were a lot of years at very high volumes.

But it is still kind of upsetting.

In an effort to look at the causes for my ongoing depression, especially since it has been going on for so very long, I have been talking to my doctor to work on trying to find any physical causes. They are checking my testosterone, T3 & T4, hormone levels... whatever else... that's what lead to the discovery of my high blood pressure and cholesterol levels. They just sent me a new diet that I am supposed to follow to cut out sodium. I guess carne asada may be off the table for a while.

My weight was also the highest it has EVER been during my visits to the doctor. But she said some of that is probably the antidepressant I am on. So I really need to start addressing that with more physical activity.Once the season gets back underway I hope that will happen. Frankly, this winter weather - with some really significant, uncomfortable cold, makes it a lot harder, too. I just hate bathing and shyte. Is too cold.

Additionally, trying to get my life under control, I started tracking my eating habits - looking for anything that might be a problem. I do not get enough Vitamins A, C, E, Potassium, or Calcium. So supplements from now on. Also better eating. I need more exercise (a lot more).

Along those same lines, I am going to start tracking my time -- though I need to figure out a real way to do that... using an app or something I suppose. I wrote out a schedule for the week - the days we need to shop, do laundry, clean which rooms which days... who has to set the table, cook dinner, do dishes - all that kind of stuff on which days. A rehearsal schedule for the kids - with a goal for them to reach daily for practice time.

I don't know if any of it is going to make any difference. I certainly hope so.

By the way, the movie Blindness is a total bummer.

Things are not always what they appear.

Soon It Will All End

watching: The Lone Ranger on Starz

This old pic is from some of the happiest days of my life. Hoka Hey

It has been over a year since my last post to this blog.

Since then I have started another one here if you want to check it out. I have also done a little writing and stuff otherwise. Done some shows. Toured a bit. Did some other stuff.

I reviewed my previous posts... I see that I have not gotten much further on some of the goals I set for myself last year...

Had another Blue Jacket dream last night. Yet another one where I have been called in to do something with the site (like, restart the show?) -- yet it is SO f-cked up with unbelievable stupidity. I have noticed that they have almost been chronological. As we were being bussed to the site (with a group of investors? other people to work on it?) I was pointing out to the others where some buildings used to stand. Buildings that only stood in my dreams of the site I've been having the past two years. This strange series of dreams started with one where I was brought out to try and "fix" the problems, and seeing they had built all kinds of extra buildings on the property in a vain attempt to enhance the experience. It was failing. I was trying to help them...

Next dream I was back; things were not going well, there. Buildings were now empty. Some decay... The next dream had more abandoned buildings (this time, I don't think I was invited there as I had been before... I was sneaking around the site, avoiding people who were there). There may have been another one - but in this dream, many abandoned buildings were torn down, someone had started on a new stage area - rebuilding part of it... Weird.

*****

I can write about this stuff here - because I feel like I need to get it out of my head and... "out there..." as it were. And no one is reading this - so I think I am okay. If you are - things are being handled. Don't worry about it.

Anyway -- in the last year since I wrote in this blog, I have had (maybe two (2) partial suicide attempts. I have to confess, this is not something new for me. I got checked in to a hospital for evaluation. Put under medication. Counseling. Now under treatment with a psychiatrist.

Part of that treatment is trying to really figure out what is going on with me. I wish I had the answers... But, after some reflection, I realize my first suicide attempt that I can remember was when I was 12. This has been going on for a long time. A very long time.

A deep depression grew - or, rather, continued to grow... It is horrible how much of my childhood I can remember with awful clarity, as if the dark cloud just magnified it in my mind instead of obscuring it.

Over the years there has been a lot of attempts. Constant consideration. Deep, deep, deep depression. Loneliness even in crowds and among loved ones.

The constant thought that everything I do is crap. The focus on my failures instead of successes (because all my successes eventually end in failure). My life feels like a constant "after the movie ends" kind of disaster story... The great, triumphant moments are afterward filled with disaster and despair. I do not feel I can take care of the children. I feel I am not suitable for any relationship. Even days when I feel like I can get some things done, one single mis-step will plunge me into a complete inability to be able to do anything. Ug.

I was going to do a timeline of my depression & suicide attempts... but, honestly, it is too depressing. I need to do some other things.

BUT I AM IN TREATMENT! Checking my diet. Taking my pills. Looking into physical issues as well as psychological that may account for all this. So, hopefully, soon all will be fine.

Or else this blog will just end... and you will know why.

Apparently, after a week of not bathing - even with deodorant & whore baths -
I still start to stink very badly. Sorry!

Thoughts On the Entertainment "Business" as Related to Sideshow & Burlesque

Listening to: nothing. Seriously. I hear a heater & the furnace.


I posted what is below to a Facebook group entitled the Sideshow Spectrum, then also to another forum entitled P.O.P. (Pissed Off Performers). This is the total of everything I posted that is worthwhile.

Monkeys riding dogs, from our friends at the Banana Derby

After reading countless complaints, I looked through my notes for the book I am writing, "This Business That We Call Show," and pulled some things out of my notes that is the core idea. The actual book expounds upon these points and MUCH more. Not fun!

This is what happens when you do the work we do...

Post as below:

You want to get serious about it? Good. Create a business plan. Get liability insurance. Put an entertainment lawyer on retainer. Hire an accountant(or at least get the software). Take a business class… or several! Find an apprenticeship. Get in a peer group (this forum does not count).

Then: oh, you’re a dancer? Take dance classes! A singer and/or talker? Take some elocution classes and have a voice teacher. Take some college-level acting classes to know your way around a stage. Get & stay in shape, ready for anything in an instant! Consider theatre classes, playwriting, history — you can’t break the rules until you know them.
SO on & so forth… I hope everyone gets why I am ranting —

I am sick & tired of stoopid (sic) stories from folks who choose to remain clueless about the “business” part of this Entertainment Business. Once you start expecting or demanding payment from people - audiences and promoters - for your services, you are no longer just “an artist” - you are conducting business.

Can’t be bothered with all that? Then just keep your performing as a hobby — there is NOTHING wrong with that. You want to hobo around? Living in the wind & by the skin of your teeth? That’s cool, too. But don’t go comparing yourself or criticizing the folks who ARE doing what it takes to have a business.

I launched this rant because of a couple recent things: including this kid I met at a gig last year reach out to me & ask me to teach him some acts - it turns out he had booked himself on a tour to do sideshow: and didn’t know the acts. ON TOP OF IT: the tour he booked himself on is with a promoter who still owes me money (oh, yes - there is a contract - but I am still trying to collect more than a year later). 

At a recent show - my amazing fire performer in full swing - some kid steps up to the stage, getting in front of me, and when I politely, but firmly, tell her to move, she decides to inform ME that she’s worried about the performer because she doesn’t see a fire safety. I directly informed her she was currently distracting one of the fire safeties (me), and thanks, but we have it covered. a pro show doesn’t draw attention to the safety procedures...

I see some GREAT performers in my travels -- and some of the really great ones are not technically, "pro." There are plenty of reasons NOT to go pro! Being an "amateur" gives a performer a LOT more freedom!

I don’t mind if whatever you are doing in this Entertainment Business isn’t the only job that you have… LOTS of career folks in all kinds of careers work multiple jobs. NOTHING wrong with it, especially in this economy. You’re a hard worker — be proud! Being a “pro” does not mean working full time.

That said, if your other work/job is paying for what you do in this Entertainment Business - that you are not at least “breaking even” with what you put out compared with what you are being paid - then what you are doing is your HOBBY. Nothing wrong with that! Hobbyists do some really amazing things, they can innovate (because they can afford to with both time & $$), and it keeps the pros on their toes…

I am the Human Firework

Currently listening to WARBOUND by Larry Correia (via Audible), while watching NFL on Fox (San Francisco vs. Seattle)

I make friends everywhere I go! (photo by Stoo)

So I made my list of things to do earlier, and am kind of doing some of it... thought I would do an update:

• I messed up my grad school application process -- didn't receive everything in time for me to make the deadline of January 16. SO - I am pushing back my plan to enter the PhD program I want. At least I'll be getting everything together NOW for the deadline next year. Might even be able to apply for a fellowship and such, too. Good times...
• I found this blog full of recipes and such I hope will help me out with time management: http://www.sidetrackedsarah.com.
• Recently, we have had a change-around at the house as Alice took a regular job, so I am busy playing Mr. Mom. I don't mind at all - in fact, I am pretty darn good at it. I spent 30 years taking care of myself, so I am pretty adept at doing a lot of things. 
• Sure, fixing a car is still tough for me (mostly, because I break everything I touch; constantly breaking bolts from over tightening, shredding hoses I try to pull off... you get the idea), but I can cook, clean, dishes, laundry, shopping, and organize -- all that shyte. And not the "frat boy" version, either.
• I got a lot of that from my dad - that's how I was raised when my mum had a day job. My dad still ran his business from the house (just like I do), and since he was home he took care of things around the house - which included my sister & I. So, really, this is pretty normal as far as I am concerned.
• What I do NOT have, unfortunately, is my dad's artistry... or cooking skills. I mean - he really did some amazing stuff. I really have to work really hard to even start at pretending to have his mastery.
• SO, anyway, this website has these "freezer to slow cooker" recipes that I have decided to experiment with. It means doing all the prep work for a week of dinners, then keeping them in the freezer until it's time to actually cook them (pulling them out of the freezer the night before, putting them in the crock pot that morning).
• DOWNSIDE: Alice's job starts in the afternoon. So I get up early, get the kids off to school. Work on my stuff quietly (because Alice is still sleeping) - so emails, writing, that kind of thing - until it is time to get Alice up and off to work. Unfortunately, I have less than an hour before kid #1 gets home... and kid #2 arrives 90 minutes later. When each kid gets home they get a snack, do their homework, then change out of their uniform and get on whatever I can put them on until dinnertime. Then it's dinner, relax & hang out time with them, then off to bed. Once I get them put down I have just less than 2 hours (working quietly, because of the kids) before Alice gets home. Get her dinner and such, spending some time together before bedtime. Is hard to get MY stuff done.
• Once the kids start up with swim team/class again, it's going to scupper my whole schedule.
• ANYWAY, I need to carve out some time in the day to get everything else done. I figure quickening cooking times (without going to all tv dinners or take out) is the way to go.
• I already created a spreadsheet checklist of job responsibilities for the month;
• I have been inventorying stuff at the house --- kids kept saying they needed toothpaste, so I was like, "fine - I will get you toothpaste!" Only to find, of course, THREE UNOPENED TUBES OF TOOTHPASTE hidden away. I came across a couple other examples like this (seriously, who needs 4 opened bottles of baby powder?), so I am trying to figure out what we really need, and what we do not.

So there you are... scheduling. Lots of scheduling.

I Was Attacked by a Drug Buyer & Had to Defend Myself

Currently annoyed

HERE'S WHAT HAPPENED:  Two mornings ago, I was in front of the driveway to bring in the garbage can in front of the house, still wearing my dressing gown & fez (as I have said I would do every morning in the new year - see pics above), and I saw a dealer in a white sedan do a hand off to 3 guys in a light blue minivan. As the minvan drove by me I yelled out to it, "Did you just buy drugs?," at which time the driver swerved the van and tried to run me over. I had a hard wood bat with me (as we tend to carry them in the neighborhood because of occasional loose dogs), and swung it at the van as I jumped out of the way - smashing the window behind the driver's door - which broke the bat.

They sped away, then, leaving the street littered with glass, and the broken pieces of my bat... I loved that bat.

I immediately called 911; but my adrenaline was so high I couldn't get the license number or much to help out - click the links in the description above to see images I remembered for the police. When the police arrived, an officer I had never seen before gave me one look (see image above), and pretty much dismissed everything I said from that point forward.

Note to self: remove fez before talking to police.

Still pulling pieces of glass out of my hair the next day. But got the glass cleaned up out of the street. Checked all the perimeter alarms at the house, again. Checked everything is loaded. Now I have to get a new bat. Maybe a composite this time...

I will say this:  the buyer is very lucky I didn't break the bat over his head.


BACKGROUND:  If you didn't know - we have sort of a problem with drug dealers in my neighborhood. This fine neighborhood, once voted the most beautiful street in the city, has been on something of a downward trend (just like the ENTIRE CITY - make no mistake) with more empty houses... but the houses still look good and the residents are on the up & up. Well... except that ONE house (you know the one I mean).

But because of the type of street it is (short, quiet, & open at each end with not many houses on it), and its proximity to certain well-traveled areas -- AND, I suspect, because our house stood empty for 3 years before we bought it -- out of town buyers are often directed to wait on our street for a buyer to come by and do a quick hand off. Sadly, we know that when we see a car with a white person in it, they are probably there to buy. Watch them for a few minutes, and a dealer will come by and make the deal.

We are not talking about simple weed deals, though -- biggest problem in this city is heroin. And it is so cheap that buyers drive for HOURS to get here to score. And, because of the ineffectiveness of the DA's office in prosecuting dealers (there really is NO other reason) and basic issues with how "law enforcement" works (if you want to call it that), there is very little the police can do.

These failures (a regular occurrence) are what led me to try and run for mayor in the last election (though my family made me pull out of the race prior to the filing deadline for the election). There is no passive way to fight this kind of thing.


IN MY OPINION:  NOTE: This goes against a lot of what I have read on the subject.  Drug dealers only understand two things: profit and violence. I believe the only way to get them to leave an area is to impact their profit. Get the buyers to leave; harass them and make it too much trouble for them to deal in your neighborhood or area. Chase off the buyers (I have done it with axe handles, sledgehammer, and one time a chainsaw... once I did it just by looking like Cat Stevens). Chase off the dealers. Threaten them, then follow through with physical violence. Drug dealers, by and large, use violence as intimidation -- use it right back at them. But harder.

The "war on drugs" says that you get the low-level dealers, then have them cut a deal by rolling over on the one above them (then that dealer gets out of jail free), then get that next guy to roll over on the one above him (in turn, going free), and so on up the line to find the supply chain.

Thing is: that doesn't work. The low level dealer is back out on the street that same day, and back to dealing. The quality of life for the neighborhood and citizens continues to stay low. Get someone higher up the food chain and able to make the charges stick? Whoopee, Mr. D.A. Someone new just steps in the position, and the whole network is still in place to make the deals.

Follow the example of Russia (watch this video here) and remove the low level dealers. Cut off the hydra's head and stick a torch in it (by making it REALLY hard to deal - so casual sellers won't want to get in on it - again, attack the bottom line). Make it hard for buyers to find a guy (and make them just plain scared to even try). Keep doing that - and it will seriously limit the amount of dealers on the streets.

Something About Nothing

Currently watching Supernatural on TNT

How I see myself & my team

How my team sees me

I have a great team of folks I work with in FreakShow Deluxe -- but sometimes I just get so caught up in my own stuff that I let them down. It's tough to be responsible for my people; but I care about them and I want to look out for them.

But, sometimes, I just get so worn down and - like I said - so caught up in what I have going on (usually in my head), that I just can't keep it together.

It's tough... it's hard... but you make the choice to just keep trying.

No School Tomorrow!

Currently watching: Person of Interest on CBS.

La Pequita Aranita knows there is no school tomorrow!

School has been cancelled tomorrow -- AGAIN!

I really need these kids to go to school if I am going to be getting anything done in the new year. Not like I completely have to oversee every minute of their day... but SOMETHING has to be done.

It's been so cold outside the past two days that the dogs won't go out. Luckily, there is a training pad in the kitchen for the little dog to use (she has a tiny bladder, anyway) - and I just force the bigger dogs out to relieve themselves.

THIS YEAR I happen to have a lot of new things on my plate to do. I have lists upon lists upon lists. I am not boasting... this is more of a "throwing my hands up and saying, 'what the hell is wrong with me?!'" kind of post. I hope you enjoy it.

Here are a few highlights:

• Apply to a PhD Program: http://www.wikihow.com/Apply-for-a-PhD-in-the-US
• Help my friend James Taylor get his next SHOCKED & AMAZED book out! http://www.shockedandamazed.com
• Get the redone JACK INFO: the Dayton Files up on Amazon for the Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Jack-Info-Dayton-Files-Adventures-ebook/dp/B004VGTQOK (don't buy this one... this link is just the placeholder if you're interested about Jack Info. Soon a MUCH larger book will be up - full of extras and great stuff!) Also you can check out stuff here: http://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/AdventuresofJackInfo/info
• There is a LOT of scheduled touring with FREAKSHOW DELUXE: http://freakshowdeluxe.tumblr.com
• AND I am learning some new computer stuff -- working with Adobe InDesign: http://tv.adobe.com/watch/adobe-evangelists-terry-white/how-to-get-started-with-adobe-indesign-cs6-10-things-beginners-want-to-know-how-to-do/

So there is some cool stuff going on!

Yay.

Thoughts...

I was going to commit suicide once. Was pretty serious about it. Considered it a few times, but this particular time I was really going through with it. Had my gun. Bullets. Alone in my apartment. Loaded the gun. Put it in my mouth.

Couldn't do it.

TV was on. Somewhere in the haze of crying as I tried, but couldn't pull the trigger, I heard the suicide prevention line commercial come on. Took that as a sign. Put down the rifle. Picked up the telephone. Called the hotline.

Someone answered. I started blurting out how I was going to kill myself. That I had a gun. I was ready to do it, but having trouble. I was a mess. I needed help. Just please somebody, anybody, help me. His voice came over the line --

"I'm sorry… but I am just the answering service. If you want, I can take your number and have someone call you back."

I said, "Never mind," and hung up. I sat for a while. I dried my tears. I realized that there was no one in this world for me, but me. I decided to keep going on. But I wasn't happy about it.

Made art about it. Had bullet engraved with my name on it. Put it in a frame with a staged picture of me with the gun in my mouth. Bad poem handwritten next to it. It got some laughs.

It was lost with everything else in 1998.

For a long time, I kept a shotgun slug with my name on it on display in my living room. Ready to pick up and use. Also lost in 1998. Along with my guns.

My going on was meant to be my big "F*ck you" to the system, the world, by continuing. But it has not been.

I did go to counseling now and again. "All in my head," and "I can change the tapes that run in my mind," were the advice. Was given drugs, but they were horrible… bad hallucinations. Couldn't trust what was real and unreal...

A couple times during grad school I considered suicide again. Went to the school doctor. He prescribed something. Never filled it. Framed the prescription. Kept it on display in various apartments and houses for a while. It's put away now. Doesn't seem so funny any more.

My friend recently committed suicide. He shot himself in the heart. He was a sensitive, artistic guy. I see why he did it.

He was also damaged goods. AND he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. A disease, his sister called it at the memorial service/funeral. It was the disease that killed him -- not the gunshot. I see why he did it.

I am looking at, once again, losing my business. My money is run out. I cannot take care of what I am supposed to. I cannot deal with what I am supposed to.

I have two beautiful children. I have a beautiful girlfriend - though she is done with me and I do not think she cares for me anymore. I should not die for them. But I do not want to burden them with my pain and how awful I feel and that I am making them.

My repeating fantasy is recently to have my girlfriend kill me. To hold her hand while she thrusts the knife blade into my heart. I think about pulling a gun on myself. I have one here for it.

But I want to die. I do not want to go on...

But, then… maybe I will.

Hate

Dear person who will probably never read this... and even if you do, probably will not think it is about you --

I have never hated anyone in my life before... but I hate you.

Oh, sure - I have disliked individuals before... I have even been upset, disappointed, annoyed, disgusted, angry - even furious at times! But actual hate? No.

Yet now I am faced with seething, gut-churning, white hot, red-mist-clouding-my-vision HATE for you.

And this isn't the kind of hate you have for some abstract person like a celebrity or politician - where it is really just a dislike of the kind of person they are or their political beliefs or leanings. The abstract idea of blanket hate for people of a certain religion or social-economic background or race identification.

No, no... this is the genuine, deeply personal despising of everything that makes you, the individual, you.

The mere thought of you fills me with loathing... so I have put you as far out of mind as possible.
In the rare times someone mentions your name, apparently I give that person a look of disgust. I specifically ask people not to say your name in front of me. When I hear your name, I bristle - even when it is just a random use of it.
Images of you overwhelm me with the desire to deface them, delete them, and destroy them in any way I can.
Honestly, if I were ever to see you in person, I cannot trust myself that I would not assault you. And possibly whomever you are with, because the fact that they would keep company with the likes of you disgusts me as well.

I deleted every picture I had of you (especially the ones of you and me together), then I untagged every picture I could of you online that I had set. If I had any hardcopy pictures I would burn them. I am Photoshopping you out of my life and remembrance. I unfriended you from Facebook... then I went ahead and just blocked you, because I do not want to be tempted to go and look at your page or photos because seeing what you are up to or looking at your pictures just fills me with hatred, anger, disgust, and fury.

Even sitting here and typing this out - only because I thought getting these feelings out might make me feel a little better and let off some of that anger/hate/disgust - makes my hands shake, my vision blur, and the bile rise in my throat.

I hate you.

The only reason I can think of that created and brings about so much hate for you is that I once felt so much love for you. I cared about you. I cherished you. I looked out for and protected you. I did my very best for you. I did things that I wasn't happy to do - that went against my feelings of right and wrong - but I did everything I could to make up for that... and I did it because of all the love in my heart for you.
But you took - not just my feelings, my love, the part of my heart I had given - but everything that I did for you and wanted for you and dreamed about for you, and you not only destroyed it, but then took a big shit on it, too.

While I love my friends, I am so annoyed when they say, "well, it happened for this reason, and it happens for that reason." Sure - I get all of that, it absolutely makes sense. It is my hope that, down the road (give it some time), these reasons will console me more. Because, right now, they do not. I am just hateful.

Still loving my friends, I am somewhat disgusted to hear that they keep in contact with you, much less remain friends, or are keeping in touch. It makes me offended that they think so little of me, and what has been done to me. That, to them, it is nothing. I have to remind myself that their actions are (probably) not personal attacks towards me.

But sometimes that is hard to believe.

When I point out, "this person did this thing to me... are you sure you want to trust them?!" And I get back, "Oh, sure - well, that's you, right? I'm sure I will be treated better," from my (alleged) friend... I hope you get it and get it hard!! And when you get screwed over, (alleged) friend, and cheated and lied to and ripped off... EVEN THOUGH I WANT TO, I will take no joy in saying, "I told you so."

Well... maybe just a tiny twinge.

Sure, I considered taking petty revenge - but, really, what is the point? There is the possibility you would not see the actual hatred motivating it, and might (god forbid) take it as a sign that I am giving you intention... and I imagine that for you, that is what you really want. Another fish on your hook. Another sucker with you. Another person who is going to tell you how great you are - and they will honestly believe it.

That is what you want, isn't it?

You probably want to know that I am seething, and angry, and hateful. It's all fun and games to you right now, isn't it? At least, until that assault comes and it all becomes painfully real. That doing something to someone to create a real hatred in them is really not smart. And that's is part of it: you are not as smart as you think you are. You are not as "with it" as you think, either.

Because I don't think anyone has ever hated you before. You have made people mad by your lies and manipulation -- but most of the ones I talked to just wrote you off and want nothing else to do with you. They continue to put up with you, maybe have forgiven the slights. Some of them you still have hanging on - you keep them from slipping over that edge, somehow...

But not me.

I hate you.
I hate what you have done to me.
I hate what you have done to my family.
I hate what you have done to my kids.
I hate what you have done to my business.
I hate what you have done to my other personal and business relationships.
I hate the issues I see coming up in my professional and personal lives because of what you have done.
I hate that what you have done will affect my future relationships. I feel sorry for the people who will be affected by what you have done.

I am sorry for every moment I spent with you.
I am sorry for every moment I spent caring about you.
I am sorry for every moment I spent talking to you.
I am sorry for every moment I spent counseling you and pushing you to be better and move forward.
I am sorry for every moment I brought you to spend with my family.
I am sorry for introducing you to my girl and my children.
I am sorry for introducing you to my company and my friends.
I am sorry for including you in anything that I did, created, or was a part of.


What's more, I am sad because I always told you the truth...
        And everything you told me was lie.


Probably tomorrow, I will think better of this post and delete it.

Good-bye Without Good-bye

The hardest thing when a friend dies unexpectedly is the realization of all the things you had planned that you did not do. The things left unsaid. Plans to hang out or do something together that will now never happen. I constantly involve my friends and family (though my family are smarter about it now) involved in my wacky plans and schemes. That means that the plans I was working on may very well be lost.

On top of that - the guilt of feeling like you cool have done more. That you missed something that should have tipped you off the end was near. That that last conversation should have been longer - the realization that was the moment you to say and do what needed to be done. And you didn't. Then the wishing that he had said SOMETHING - had called me when he was feeling the blackness overtaking him...

At the same time - you know it really isn't your fault. But it doesn't make it any easier.

* It is HARD to be an artist. Especially one so obviously talented, but unappreciated in one's own time. Creating work - getting it out there. Making SO MUCH happen - - but so many people not realizing it. And not just not making a living from it, bu finding and realizing people are ripping him off. *

Nothing is worse than the sudden, unexpected loss of a friend or family member - with so much left undone. The biggest illusion we all suffer is that've have more time.

RIP - A.C.

Funny Thing

One time I knew a couple of friends who had a falling out of some sort (I wasn't privy to the details). When I asked about what had happened from a mutual friend of theirs what had happened, it was described to me that friend 1 had "photoshopped her (friend 2) out of her life."

That phrase stuck with me. And...

That is what I am doing right now...

Getting Dumped

Watching American Horror Story Asylum on FX right now.

It has been nine (9) years since I last broke up with someone. Relationship-wise, anyway. Until now.

I had really forgotten the pangs of anguish. Wondering what that person is doing... Missing them...
Everything left undone. Promises made.

I had also forgotten the pain of figuring out a way through the lies and deceit. Hating them... Disgusted with what they did...
One truth leads to another, leading to yet another. And the final realization --

I never really knew who that person was. The person I loved never actually existed.

And now it is like she died -- but is still walking around out there. Sometimes even in eyesight.

Of course, with all the lies and such -- it is more like the reanimated corpse of the person I loved is shambling around doing who knows what with who knows who...

Ug.

AND having to tell the kids: this person is not coming back. You will probably never see this person again. All the plans that person made with you... all the promises... are not going to happen. What's worse: verything that person told you may have been a lie.

Broken

It has been tough for a while. Just tough.

Tough to do, tough to know. Tough to see...

I hope to be turning things around --

So they gave Chris Brown - really only famous for beating his then-girlfriend Rhianna, followed by being an additional douche - a Grammy award. It is not something that real people (the public) decide - it is a committee/organization works out about who gets what.


After receiving a Grammy at the ceremony the other night, he apparently tweeted some rude shyte after other celebrities tweeted their complaints about his win. Check out the article below, which details everything...


http://abcnews.go.com/blogs/entertainment/2012/02/chris-brown-responds-to-grammy-appearance-backlash/

As I read it - and I thought about what all happened... I read this comment in it - and realized that person is correct:
POSTED BY: DAVE | FEBRUARY 15, 2012, 11:56 AM 11:56 AM

"People forget he won a Grammy not a Humanitarian award. How many celebs have done wrong and gone on with their careers without penalty. Of course, I don’t condone what he did – that was a disgusting act – but he won for his merits as a musician – end of story. At least he paid the price for his crime.
Roman Polanski never served a day in jail for raping an underage girl. How many other celebs do far much worse and never pay for it. Not only is he allowed to continue his craft, he is constantly honored and rewarded for it.
He committed a crime, he paid the price. Same as Michael Vick. I doubt those two would ever repeat their actions. Rather than target them , target those who continue to commit crimes without fear."

I agree with this guy, Dave. But... THAT BEING SAID:
I am not financially supporting Chris Brown. Not buying his records or paying to see his shows. Just like Chick-fil-A (whose food I love, btw), I will not support what I see as immoral behavior. They can do what they like - but they will not have my money to continue their immorality. 


I feel the same way about the Philadelphia Eagles. I know that Michael Vick has served his time and paid his debt to society - but that doesn't mean I want to hang out with him. Or support the team that would hire him. That type of behavior is not something you get over just by serving some time.


And that is really the issue, isn't it? The United States Criminal Justice system is supposed to be about rehabilitation - but, unfortunately, the way the system is arranged, rehabilitation rarely happens. It is so rare that someone actually comes out reformed, that I do not believe we ever expect it any more.


I guess it is not much like Chick-fil-A, after all. They just give money to causes that I cannot support. They have not paid any debt to society or anything. It just comes down to if I cannot condone what someone does - I should make every effort NOT to support them in any way (including financially).


So Chick-fil-A will never get my money or support. Neither will the Philadelphia Eagles or Michael Vick. Especially not And neither will Chris Brown. Or Sean "Puffy/Puff Daddy/P Diddy" Combs. Or Burger Kind. F*ck all those guys, too.

Scooby Doo - Where Are You?

Currently watching Scooby Doo Where Are You? Case of the Spooky Space Kook on Boomerang.

You know what is disturbing? The universe in which the Mystery Machine gang lives and operates. Every place is run down (like the farm house where the gang stops to try and buy some gas after the Mystery Machine runs out). Their whole world is filled with abandoned amusement parks, camps, factories, air fields and all kinds of similar places. Even the Spooky Space Kook's spaceship looks rundown and awful.

And then there is the fact that the early ones (the Spooky Space Kook episode is copyright in 1969) feature villains whose idea of scaring people off to run some kind of scam involves dressing up like some kind of ghostly or supernatural creature. And that people go for it - meaning they believe that it is actually possible.

I just do not know if I can buy that. 1969 must have been a VERY different time. VERY DIFFERENT.

I read somewhere that Carl Sagan once praised for Scooby Doo for debunking the supernatural and inspiring children to critical thinking. It is too bad in later years as they messed with the show formula for different incarnations that they actually pushed the supernatural agenda. Sometimes they got it right - but often times they did not (or had something allegedly supernatural happening in concurrence with the attempted scam).

My kids like the old Scooby Doo shows a lot - and I would prefer they watch them. They show regularly on the Boomerang channel. And we actually prefer the kids watch the cartoons on that channel -- the old Jetsons, Flintstones, Scooby Doo and all those kind of cartoons (primarily from the 60s & early 70s) are so much better than most of the new cartoons out there.

Disaster Strikes!

Currently in a panic.

My computer crashed. Not just crashed, but apparently the hard drive went bad. So all the data is unable to be extracted.

I have backed up, but I can't remember when the last time was, AND I can't check the external drive to see what's there without a computer. Ugly. Everything could be gone!

Trying to do blogs and business from my iPod Touch. It's rough.

Insight Along the Artist's Way

Currently watching "Dark Mirror" on IFC.

When I was in my late 20s I was introduced to a book called "The Artist's Way" by my friend Sabrina. It is a workbook to help with creativity, and she knew several people who had success with it. Soon thereafter, through my eclectic travels that eventually led to my entry into grad school, it kept popping up. It seems a lot of creative people I respected had been making good use of it.

Eventually, I am not sure when, I got a copy from somewhere and decided to try it myself around 2003 or so. Since then I have done the Morning Pages and work in the book when I am feeling especially uncreative or blocked. I credit "The Artist's Way" with the successes of FreakShow Deluxe as well as my personal artistic growth.

Now that I have pitched that enough - here is the point of the blog: One part of the work you do are the Morning Pages. Every morning, first thing, you write no less than three pages (longhand - NOT typing) in a notebook. These pages are not for others to read. Not necessarily a diary. Not really meant for sharing. It is forcing you to be creative on a schedule... AND aims for some personal insight.

Alice recently finished one wall of my office, outfitting the 20-foot length with 6-foot high shelves suitable not just for books, but for displaying my collections of stuff. FINALLY, I am unable to unpack boxes sealed away for years - some more than 8 or 9 years old. I have been finding all kinds of stuff I had forgotten about. Displays from the Empire Amusement Hall, quirky things picked up on tour, obscure gifts stashed away... and mountains of paperwork needing filed and archived.

INCLUDING a variety of notebooks I have used over the years for my Morning Pages. Some of which I have never looked at since my initial writing.

As I was unpacking, Alice thrilled at the idea of looking through them - even though I asked her not to... but, whatever. My handwriting is such that she could barely decipher most of them. But she did come across a few she could read pretty clearly as she leafed through them.

And what did she see?

Repeatedly my commenting that I do not like the way that I dress or look. My calling for changes to how I look. Wanting to find a look that can be taken more seriously by other professionals. For years I have been on this kick - and yet I am still unable to make any kind of change...

I need help. Possibly psychiatric. More likely from "What Not To Wear." Except now they only work with women. *shrug* I guess men no longer need make-overs. I need a stylist - but the phenomenal ones who work with FreakShow Deluxe are more the rock-n-roll style. And that is not what I am looking for.

If I was wealthy, I could dress however I damn well pleased. Money talks way more than how someone looks.

Recently I had a long conversation with a friend as we discussed the "look" of success. And of wealth. The showy-off kind AND the more subtle. We agreed I do not seem to share ANY of those looks. Perhaps I will discuss it more later on this blog - but I welcome your comments.

Since the beginning of the year I have lost a few pounds. Eating better. Cut my calorie intake. Cut back on caffeine. Upped my water intake. Exercise, too.

After some kid referred to my chops as "metal" at a show, I cut them way back... I guess my long hair threw him a bit. I don't consider myself particularly "metal." And if that is what I am being mistaken for...

Anyway...



In conclusion: for nearly 10 years I have been bitching about how I look. Why have I not done anything about it?

Perhaps I will even return to "The Artist's Way."