NOBODY’S FAULT BUT MINE

Oh, nobody’s fault but mine
Nobody’s fault but mine
Trying to save my soul tonight
Oh, it’s nobody’s fault but mine

The devil he told me to roll
The devil he told me to roll
How to roll the log tonight
Nobody’s fault but mine

Brother he showed me the gong?
Brother he showed me the ding dong ding dong
How to keep that gong alive
Oh, it’s nobody’s fault but mine

Got a monkey on my back
Got a mo, mo, mo, mo, monkey on my back, back, back, back
Gonna change my ways tonight
Nobody’s fault but mine

I will get down rollin’ tonight
No-no-no-no-no-no-nobody’s fault

Written by Robert Anthony Plant, James Patrick Page • Copyright © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc

 

I was hooked the first time I heard Presence, actually the entire LZ catalog, although the over played Stairway has certainly lost it’s lustre.

But this. I love it because it means for me to take ownership of what ever negative may be occurring in my life.

Back int the late 1980’s, I threw a house party and some thieving magpie nicked a guitar from the spare room in the basement that I used as a practice space. In all honesty I was a guitar collector and not really a guitarist. Although I could do a fierce impression of Pagey’s violin bow solo. Anyway…I played this through my Kenwood at full 350 watts per channel and when the song ended the phone rang and I answered with: “That’s all I am playing. I just needed to hear that.” and a neighbor replied: “Ya. We all did”  The guitar was returned…but that’s another story.

The monkey on my back. Ya, I have had a monkey on my back since birth, the by product of the sperm and the egg. At times in my life the monkey has ruled. HAHAHAHA, in all actuality, the monkey always rules, whether I am clean and sober or back in active addiction.

I am just emerging from active addiction, which started with causal use at the end of last year.  From late April, after my return from Costa Rica until five days ago I was in the grips of full on self-destruction. Active use, promiscuousness, lack of sleep,not eating right…but most destructively, not possessing any self love and allowing parasites to drain me of my energy.

On Sunday, I made the conscience effort to make a change. Within 20 short hours, my life shifted. In the past, I always white knuckled my way through; craving out the minutes, hours and then days of clean time. After awhile, the spirituality would come in and things got easier.

This time the spirituality came to me through the grace of two women as vessels of the the Spirit, and my life transformed.

Addict is, addict was, addict will always be: I haven’t a clue how long this will last. If I am aware of the Spirit coming from those around me and as it rises up  within me, I haven’t a desire to use.

In March of 2015, I had traveled to Palm Springs, CA to celebrate my birthday. Once there, I was reading the local paper and saw an article about an exhibit of Ansel Adams work that was going to be on display at the Palm Springs Air Museum. A fan of Ansel’s work for many years, I have seen other exhibits of his photography at galleries in Washington DC and Chicago of his most famous work, his landscapes. I was excited for this one because the article stated that the photography in this exhibit was a departure from his signature style of landscape photography. The article referred to the photographs on display as “The Manzanar Collection.”  I did some internet research and for the first time learned that 72 days after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, President Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066 which lead to the internment of 110,000 Japanese Americans into 10 “Relocation Centers” throughout the United States.

The exhibit of the Manzanar Collection was very powerful for me, to see this imagery and portraiture of people who basically were evacuated out of their homes and sent to a guarded camp surrounded by fences and barbed wire.

Now, two years later, I have moved back to the Coachella Valley and took a trip up to Death Valley with a friend. As we planned the trip, we decided we would leave around noon and head up to Lone Pine, CA, which is about a 4-5 hour drive, my friend was familiar with the route so we didnt have to map it out. As we approaching Lone Pine, I looked at a map to see what the was in the area and the words: Manzanar National Historic Site jumped out at me just north of the town of Lone Pine. I was tripped out to say the least. My travel partner and I discussed that we would  head up there in the morning before going into Death Valley National Park.

I had seen Ansel’s imagery, so I had an idea of what the place would be like or so I thought.

When we got to the entrance, I got out of the car to take some photographs and I felt an over whelming sense of sadness, an agony/pain that was so intense that I began to cry. I let the emotion flow, then shook it off and captured some imagery.

We proceeded to the Visitor’s Center and took in the whole experience. I was just kind of numb throughout it all.

The day we were there was February  20, 2017, which was 75 years and a day after Executive Order 9066 was signed.

We then took the “auto tour” around the 6,000 acre camp. Most of the buildings are gone, but there are still some of the fish ponds and bridges that the residents of the camp built during their internmant. We stopped by the cemetery that once held the remains of the 150 men, women and children who died during the three years they were at the camp. Interestingly enough, the cemetery was outside the barbed wire fence, so when the bodies were laid to rest, they were out side of the camp. Some of the remains were moved after the camp closed in 1945, but some remains are still there.

There is a white monolith at the cemetery that sits on top of three teirs and each tier had various momentos: trinkets, bracelets, fishing lures, coins. At the very front edge of the first tier were three US quarters placed right next to each other.  I presumed someone had left the 75 cents as a significance to the 75 years that had passed. On the front of the monolith are Japanese Kanji characters that read: “Soul Consoling Tower”

The weather was cool. It was damp. The sky, was mostly cloudy, and a fresh amount of snow in the mountains created a contrast to the Sierra Nevada that just added to somber tone of the morning.

Once in the car and headed towards Death Valley, my friend and I reflected on what we had just experienced.

75 years later and Executive Orders are being signed violating the rights of American citizens. Only currently,  we aren’t at war.

Now, I follow Uncle George (Takei) on the social media..and I am aware of his play Allegiance.

It’s disconcerting to see that fear, prejudice and a lack of compassion for our fellows still exists.

Still, I was just tripped out by it all…how over the course of a couple of years I went from having no idea of Manzanar and what it represented, to viewing the Adam’s Exhibit and then end up taking a trip that starts out with a tour of Manzanar.

I used to believe that certain things occur by happenstance.  I gave up that belief a while back. There are no coincidences.

Here are some photographs:

 

Below is the artwork of Michi Takemoto depicting life inside Manzanar.

Information on Ansel Adam’s Manzanar Collection can be found here

Information on the Manzanar National Historic Site can be found here

Ten days ago, I began driving west. I left Minneapolis in the early afternoon and made my way south to Des Moines. I was engaged in a phone conversation and breezed across the state line into Iowa, not even realizing I had left Minnesota. After refueling in Des Moines, I steered towards Omaha.

I had a SiriusXM 30 day trial activated before the trip and have been listening to Classic Vinyl as I drive for hours on end. They are highlighting the artists that will be playing at Desert Trip and that created some excitement for me as I will be in attendance the first weekend.

Nebraskan Sunset – Gretna NE

After seven hours of driving, I made my first stop for sleep. I have a small mattress on top of four crates in the back of my Honda Element and this was my first time sleeping in my car set up this way. After some tossing and turning, I fell asleep, then woke up four hours later. I got back on the road and after a short time, I could feel the effects of fatigue; but I kept on. I am experiencing some difficulty with night driving and it doesn’t help that the rural freeways aren’t illuminated by over head street lights as they are in cities. And there isn’t much traffic on the road at 3:30 in the morning.

Sleeping space in the Element – perfectly cramped

I was tooling along with the cruise control on  at 70 mph, when suddenly, this huge “thing’ came out of nowhere and swooped over my car! As it passed, two important realities cut through my clouded mind: I just passed under an over pass and I needed to get off the road for more sleep. I pulled into the next rest stop and slept for another 90 minutes.

Paxton NE                                                  Ovid CO

After a couple hours of driving, dawn arose as I crossed into Colorado and when I arrived in  Denver I was eight hours ahead of schedule. I spent two days in Denver with my nephew and then continued on.

(clockwise from upper left) Chicken Biscuit Sandwich at the Denver Biscuit Co; Whole Grain Waffle with banana and Waffle breakfast plate at Waffle Bros.; Selfie with Nephew in the background; Corned Beef Eggrolls at The Irish Snug.

The drive out of Denver  was so beautiful with the Aspens ablaze of golden yellow which was a stark contrast to the dark green of the pines.

As I moved through Colorado and into Utah the mountains provided an every changing visual backdrop that seemed to make the miles and the time fly by.

 

After of 11 hours of driving,  I rested in St. George, Utah.

I had a good block of sleep and left St. George at 4am, rolled through Las Vegas at 5am and crossed the border into California at 6am. Once at Cima Road and about to enter into the Mojave National Preserve, I took a 3o minute break as daybreak was just igniting trathe Eastern sky.

 Sunrise and Moon – Cima Road

As I drove through the Mojave, excitement  began to build. I love the vast emptiness of this area. The horizon stretches for miles across the desert expanse to mountain ranges miles off in the distance. The majesty of this beauty was highlighted as the sunrise began to illuminate it all.

 

Jack rabbits kept darting out in front of my vehicle. On two occasions, miles apart, a coyote wandered into the road, looked at my approaching car, turned and went back into the desert.

After hours traveling through the Mojave,  I arrived in the high desert community of 29 Palms, CA and began my descent through Joshua Tree, Yucca and Morongo Valleys into Palm Springs CA.

All said and done, it took 30 hours, 30 minutes to drive 1900 miles over a 60 hour period.

Over the course of the last two weeks, all that I own was either given away, sold, thrown out or put into storage. Into these four crates I placed what will be needed for “existence” during the next few months as I travel about the American Southwest. The four crates, placed side by side, front to back are the base of my bed in my Honda Element. More on that later.

In all honesty, I didn’t realize the extent of energy I would expend going through everything and letting go of it all, one way or another. It was taxing, emotionally draining and resulted in me assessing everything in my life. Going forward, I will try to keep ahead of this task. It’s seems so unnecessary to be so invested in “stuff” whether it is the tangible or emotional.

I certainly don’t feel any lighter…

 

Listening to Led Zeppelin, Physical Graffiti …my heart is  slightly heavy, my spirit clouded…and then these play:

“Ten Years Gone”

Then as it was, then again it will be
An’ though the course may change sometimes
Rivers always reach the sea
Blind stars of fortune, each have several rays
On the wings of maybe, down in birds of prey
Kind of makes me feel sometimes, didn’t have to grow
But as the eagle leaves the nest, it’s got so far to go

Changes fill my time, baby, that’s alright with me
In the midst I think of you, and how it used to be

Did you ever really need somebody, And really need ’em bad
Did you ever really want somebody, The best love you ever had
Do you ever remember me, baby, did it feel so good
‘Cause it was just the first time, And you knew you would

Through the eyes an’ I sparkle, Senses growing keen
Taste your love along the way, See your feathers preen
Kind of makes makes me feel sometimes, Didn’t have to grow
We are eagles of one nest, The nest is in our soul

Vixen in my dreams, with great surprise to me
Never thought I’d see your face the way it used to be
Oh darlin’, oh darlin’

I’m never gonna leave you. I never gonna leave
Holdin’ on, ten years gone
Ten years gone, holdin’ on, ten years gone

I think I have, may in the past, spoke of this. I guess  it occurs, registers, rings at of time placed moments of significance. Tens years gone. 12 years gone, 20 years gone what , really is the significance ?

 

 

“In The Light”

And if you feel that you can’t go on. And your will’s sinkin’ low
Just believe and you can’t go wrong.
In the light you will find the road. You will find the road

Oh, did you ever believe that I could leave you, standing out in the cold
I know how it feels ’cause I have slipped through to the very depths of my soul.
Baby, I just want to show you what a clear view it is from every bend in the road.
Now listen to me
Oh, whoa-whoa, as I was and really would be for you, too, honey
As you would for me, oh, I would share your load.
Let me share your load. Ooh, let me share, share your load

And if you feel that you can’t go on
In the light you will find the road

Though the winds of change may blow around you, but that will always be so
When love is pain it can devour you, if you are never alone
I would share your load. I would share your load
Baby, let me, oh, let me

In the light
Everybody needs the light.
In the light, in the light, in the light

Light, light, light, in the light
Light, light, light, in the light, ooh, yeah
Light, light, light, in the light

 

Got the Led out. Getting heady. It’s been awhile.

WOW! From Physical Graffiti. Truth again, overwhelms .

Musical theraphy reforged as mix of solid philosophy infused with new thought.

I have wandered from this, musical therapy. For, so, so long.

Clearly the lyrics and score were  not written to my  current state, but, oh; how they ring true, again.

Or is it just a comfort for me, to find solace in the circlaular orbital patterns of my life?

“Changes fill my time,  baby, that’s alright by me…..”

‘Though the winds of change may blow around you, but that will always be so….’

Two constants, yet always ever-changing,

I am about ready to embark on the unknown. Venture forth. I am cocky about it, yet underneath, there is a bundle of uncertainty. I follow the front more than it guides me. Yet, it quite possibly, may be one in the same.

As I process the last 19 years at this geographical location, I realize that some of the longings haven’t changed. Yet, so much has changed. So, amongst it all,  the yearnings remain the same, the thought process on how to deal with the yearnings has changed. This is a good thing.

(A screamin’ Page guitar brings me to the place it always does. Hammer of the efffing gods.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am in the midst of selling  my co-op apartment as I prepare to embark on a cross-country move. A major part of this process is to go through all that I own and decide what can be donated, what can be recycled, what can be trashed and what makes the journey.

Some of these possessions have been around since childhood; some from adolescence;  others, from early adulthood and to the present day.

It is a daunting task. I have had to touch every item I own as I open and go through every drawer, nook, cranny, envelope, folder, container, box and decide; “What is the value of this?”

The throw away and the recyclable stuff was the easiest to get rid of. The stuff for donation was the next easiest, although that’s what makes up the piles in the front and the back of the apartment. I have had a couple of friends come over and go through the denotable stuff. One man’s junk is another man’s treasure. That’s how I ended up with a majority of this stuff in the first place.

My first job when I returned to Minnesota in 1997 was working for a nonprofit that provided goods and services to the economically challenged of the Twin Cities. I certainly fit the bill at the time as I working for minimum wage of $5.15 an hour. Oh, but what “collectables” did I acquire!

As I sit on my couch now and look out at the piles across the living room into the dining room, I am first struck by the “scent” of aged, used goods. Then secondly, by the energy of all these previously owned goods piled in mass, out in the open.

This has been the most significant for me: the energy of the stuff…and the energy I am expending going through it all and then, letting it go.

For the last couple of years in Corporateland, I have had a stress knot that runs from my right gluteal up across my back into my left shoulder. After being out of that environment and starting this moving process; as I reach to get an file out of a cabinet, a box off the floor, open a drawer….whatever the movement has been, I can feel the knot, so I flex around it and exhale. In the last week I have gained range of motion as my upper body movement becomes greater.

After some time, with the toxins of the stress knot being released, the “scent” of the goods, the handling of very item, the emotional detachment that occurs…I become drained and have to take a break. I get over heated and the top of my head is a furnace. And I realize just how much negativity I am releasing by doing this purging, this letting go.

I have also come to the understand of the “stuff” concept.  It’s really nothing but “stuff” and how much I have held on to that has just been holding me down. Physically. Mentally.  Spiritually.

Then too, there are the jewels, the precious things of my history, things that will carry into the next phase. It re-affirming to go through all of my photographs and see my growth and development as a photographer. An excitement is building to go into my film “vault” and work once again with my negatives, only this time to digitalize them.

ok, time to get back going through stuff.

 

For the last 12 years I have been employed as support staff for a large international law firm. That has come to a close and my last day of work was yesterday. I have always referred to it as Corporateland on social media, so as to maintain a certain degree of anonymity. The building that houses the firm is the third tallest building in Minneapolis and has a yellow facade, that when illuminated at night has a golden tone to it, which is why I call it: The Golden Tower of Employment.

When I started working for them 12 years ago, I was just  28 days clean off of crystal meth after a 18 month relapse after my second stint in rehab. I was not a happy man at that time. I had trouble looking people in the eye, was not very talkative and had a 2 pack a day Marlboro habit. Making it through the interview process and getting the job was a break I needed at the time and it certainly was a gift.

My employment history up to this time was rocky through my drug and drinking days. I would keep a job for a couple of years at most or stay just a few months or days. My shortest duration of employment lasted 90 minutes.  I seemed to have a knack for getting hired by a company that was either launching or about to go under. I would either help get the place running or would keep it a float for a while before it closed. In the later years of addiction, I was running into some sort of legal situation as I exited the company or there were the legal proceedings my life seemed to be entangled in. I always seemed to worm my way out of all the legal situations I found myself in.

When I told my mother I had landed a job in the mailroom of a law firm, her first question to me was: “How long have they been in business?” When I told her since 1886, she replied with an sigh of relief and said ” Oh thank god! This one might last! ”  She then began to lecture me saying “Don’t think you can be pulling any of that Cracker Jack junior lawyer crap you seem to think you’ve mastered in the last few years!!! You won’t be able to go head to head with these folks and win. It’s time to turn your life around and get serious!”  I agreed with her on all points.

My life has changed dramatically since I have worked with this firm and it has been a big part in my recovery from narcotics and in giving me solid ground to stand on.

It has been somewhat difficult for me as I leave, for it has been a month of good byes. It is all so strange to me. I am not used to the adoration and the well-wishes. Even as I am leaving, these folks have helped me to grow.

 

 

As a child, the holidays were always a magical time in the household I grew up in. Fine home cooking, holiday treats and a huge variety of home baked cookies.  Whether the feast was hosted by my mother, one of her sisters or a Great Aunt, the Thanksgiving table could have been a scene form a Norman Rockwell painting or a photo shoot for Bon Appetite.

Christmas was no different, with the exception of the overwhelming surprise of the bounty of gifts that seemed to be larger than the Christmas Tree itself.

New Year’s Day was more of an event than the night before as some feast was prepared to herald in the New Year.

This is not to say there wasn’t dysfunction in the family and nerves were worked to a fray.

This all changed in young adulthood when I moved into my own life and the jobs I took had me working on the holidays. I tried to recreate some of the magic but it wasn’t the same. I was invited into other family situations as a guest, and that certainly was different, except for the unraveling of nerves.

As my drinking and drugging became more of a way of life, the holidays became the darkest of times. In the later years, I actually became so wigged out by the holidays that I abstained from drinking around Christmas, but never through New Years Eve.

When I first went through rehab in 1997,  my roommate worked for a non profit as resource manager, cold calling and soliciting goods for the organization. As I was just re-entering society and somewhat unemployable, I volunteered with company for a while. When he was murdered in a  violent drug scenario, I approached his employer and said “As odd as this seems, you have a job opening and I need a job” I started the next day.

One of the corner stones of this organization was it’s “Home for the Holidays” food program that fed some 3500 economically challenged people on Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter.  The first year that I resourced the goods for Thanksgiving meal, it was all too wild when it came together. It was actually the first time I felt “whole” or “connected” on a holiday in many years.

The gig at the non-profit lasted three years and I resourced 6 holiday meals over that time. I left the charity to pursue a corporate path.

Over the last few years, I offer myself as volunteer to some nonprofit in whatever city I am in as I tend travel around the holidays.

This year, I am back in Palm Springs CA and volunteered with the organization called Well in the Desert. The church where the event was being held was one of the locations I used to go for a food handout to when I was a strung out homeless drug addict before I went to rehab. That was clearly on my mind as I walked in the door to begin my shift.

Most of the volunteers wanted to work front of house, so I hung out back in the kitchen and assisted the chef as we ran pans of hot food out to the serving line. In between, it was basic kitchen duty: drying the chafing dish pans after they were washed, prepping salad and/or cranberries, making coffee, assembling some to go plates.

It suddenly dawned on me that the people that surrounded me today were just like the cast of characters at the nonprofit I worked for years earlier. There was the guiding matriarch, the founding father, the beatnik staff, the troubled ones (the slight reflection of self), the personable photographer, the entertainers, the off-key singers.

I felt a sense of pride, accomplishment and satisfaction as I looked around and saw all this energy unfolding around me… and felt a deep understanding of how far I have come in the last 17 years. A well of emotion surged through me and tears blurred my vision. I stepped out side  into the California sunlight and let the surge flow through me.

As the event wound down and some of the street folk arrived at the last minute to ask for food…I was faced with the true reflection of what I was once was, and my heart ached for these two last minute food seekers.

After the event, I went to my friends house where I am staying and went next door, as I was invited over for Thanksgiving. Since I was late and at 52 years old, the “kid” in the room, I was placed at the far end of the table at a card table, on a folding chair. I was offered plates of bounty but declined as I had snacked some at the event I had just left. So I sat and sipped green tea and took part in the conversation with these old timers.

I finally gave in and ate. All of the food was prepared from scratch and made for this meal, there was nothing store bought, heat to eat. There was a cookie that looked like my mom’s “Tea Time Tassies”, which is a mini pecan pie type confection. I bit into it and it tasted EXACTLY like my mom’s cookie. I began to sample other treats and everything tasted like my mom’s food.

The guy immediately to my right has lived here for decades and shared stories on his time living here. He seemed at times to become lost, searching for a word, a phrase, an organizations name  and I would ask “was it ________” and deliver the word, phrase or name to him. He smiled at me as I did this and said “yes, that’s it” It was cool how I knew what he searched for.

After a couple hours of conversation, laughter and some history lessons, I accepted the host’s offer and filled up a plate to take home.

Back “home” flopped on the couch, I recall the day.  “…no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should…”