Wednesday, February 11, 2015



i took her
picture down
and put it
away in a
along with a
small box
of trinkets
she'd sent
to me
so many
years ago,
so many
smiles ago,
so many lies ago...
i'd begun
at some point
like the
other man
in her life
like a once
favorite chair
now placed
in another
she'd come
by and
sit with me
but quickly
and i would
return to
and hoping...


(part 281) LOST TO HISTORY

So it had been the the reissue of Songs Of Protest as a cd, out of England, that had gotten me interested in the internet in the first place, otherwise I never would have started when I did. When I came I came with a vengeance. The reason being, Joe Foster had shined me on for five years and refused to make contact with me, even though he had released my work and refused to pay me for it. My attitude toward him had soured overtime because of it, so my anger was pretty much front and center when I showed up. I used to visit music forums on the internet where people talked about music and records. I remember coming across one by chance, and the topic was the Songs Of Protest cd, and Joe Foster was their guest. I joined as a new member and started putting in my two-cents worth about Rev-Ola and Joe, and it basically blew up in my face. This happened more than once. So out of frustration I finally turned to the blog where I could say what I wanted.

I had no plan. I just started at the beginning. I hadn't asked for the blog, it was part of Google. They used to give it to you automatically when you got an gmail account. It was just there. It used to pop up all the time. A big orange and white page that sat for months with nothing on it. So that day in November of 2007 I started writing. At first it was "The Life And Times Of Bobby Jameson," which still exists, but then I got this one and called it "Bobby Jameson." I talked about being a kid in Tucson with my brother Bill, and how we liked music and learned to play. I moved it right along and wrote about going to Hollywood as a wide eyed kid with no experience of street-life or the music business. I wrote about how I made my first record and left disillusioned, and then came back a year later and hit it big.

I never really thought anyone would pay attention to what I wrote on it, but I was wrong...they did. Overtime it grew into something I'd never envisioned. People read it and left comments, and the comments drove me crazy. I didn't know how to respond to them, so I responded to all of them, bad and good. I didn't know how to control them with settings, so they just kept coming in. At times it was like a barroom brawl on the blog. The anonymous commenters would egg me on and I'd fall for it over and over again. Many were lost over the years due to editing the entire blog, but some I removed for personal reasons. Things change, people change, and feelings change. Some of those who supported me years ago changed their minds about me. Got bored with of me! Got rid of me! It was a choice that was difficult for me to make, but I made it. I made it because reading some of those old comments, from years ago, brought back memories and feelings of better times. I began avoiding this blog and quit writing on it for years. I did that because so many of those comments were from two women I'd known in the 60's, who now despised each other. Every time I came here I'd see all those comments from them, and question whether what they said was real or just for show.

The luxury of yesterday's today may at times only be seen in our tomorrows. Things that were taken for granted at one time become incredibly important later on...after being lost to history. In my life I have witnessed this too many times, in too many ways. The soft tender voices become the crowd of naysayers and scoffers. The radiant armor tends to rust and tarnish in the dim dampness of neglect. I got here broken from the start, and freely admitted it. I had no allies or compatriots, no backers or friends, no money or power, other than my words and history. I was only as good as my last write, and always flawed. I came alone to do battle, not by choice so much, but by circumstance. I longed always for assistance I never found.