Friday, September 11, 2009

(part 202) CURIOUS DAYS



DREAM MACHINE
IN FLASHING SKY
TWIRLS INSIDE
MY EMERALD EYE
LIKE SPINNING GOLD
AGAINST THE SUN
THERE'S NOWHERE LEFT
FOR ME TO RUN

CONTINUITY
OF TIME
SPLIT LIKE ATOMS
WITH EACH RHYME
IN SENTENCES
OF BLURRING MIND
RELEASE ME LOVE
FOR LOVE IS BLIND

TANGENT'S SCRIBBLED
ON A WALL
NO ONE COMES
HERE AFTER ALL
I ALONE
HAVE READ EACH WORD
UNSPOKEN STILL
AND STILL UNHEARD

MAGNIFIED AGAINST
THE BLAZE
OF HOVERED HONED
AND GHOSTLY DAYS
WHERE LIGHT IS BORN
AGAINST THE BLACK
OF YESTERYEARS
AND LOOKING BACK

BACK INTO
THE REALM OF FATE
WHERE ANGELS SCREAM
AND BUZZARDS WAIT
TO EAT THE FLESH
OF CURIOUS DAYS
NOW LOST INSIDE
THE ENDLESS MAZE

Bobby Jameson Sep 11, 2009

Thursday, September 3, 2009

(part 201) DENNIS AND GEORGE



The lawyer's name was Dennis Poulsen, and he was an insurance attorney from Whittier, California. Carol Paulus had befriended him in Beverly Hills where he'd opened a perfume shop.

It seems that Dennis had read an article in Time Magazine about people getting into the music business and making a fortune without any prior experience. This was where he'd gotten the idea, and had decided to take a shot at it himself.

As you can imagine, Dennis looked like what you might think an attorney from Whittier would look like. He was well dressed in a suit and tie with short hair, was a conservative Republican, had little or no style, was young, late 30's, maybe 40, and had a business partner named George who liked to drink.

They were both married, and I guess they thought they were pretty hip, which they weren't. Maybe in Whittier, but not in Beverly Hills and West Hollywood.

The first time I met him was when he came to Carol's apartment. She was not there, so it was just me and Dennis. He was positive, intelligent, and friendly, and he reminded me of guys I'd met in bars on the west side on weekends.

They always seemed a bit too positive, and overly expectant that something was about to happen. They didn't know what exactly, but they were always ready for it, or so they thought.

When you've been on the street as long as I had, you kind of learn to read people fast, and that's how I read Dennis.

I took a good look at him when he came in, and decided almost immediately who I was dealing with. Because of this, I didn't want to spend a lot of time talking.

I didn't feel like this meeting was going to amount to much, so I took him into another room where my guitar was and said, "I'm gonna play you some songs, if you don't mind." Too much chit-chat and letting someone like this get comfortable was what I didn't want to do.

"Are these original songs, Bobby, that you wrote?" he asked.

"Yeah!" I answered, "Everything I'm gonna play for you is something I wrote, and they're all unpublished."

"OK," he said smiling, "lay it on me."

Lay it on him is exactly what I did. After my initial discomfort at playing live for an audience of one, who was a total stranger, I threw caution to the winds and settled into playing the songs.

As I hammered out one after another, I could see his interest growing. With each new tune he became more convinced that he'd stumbled across a good thing.

He had to be thinking that here is a guy who can play, sing, and write his own songs, and is good at it. And, he's got a lot of songs.

They just came pouring out of me like a human jukebox. I knew what was going on. I'd planned it that way. "Just beat the crap out of him with original songs,"I thought, "so many that his mind turns to mush. Make him know that he really saw and heard something special. Don't let him leave wondering. Make sure he is convinced of one thing: that Bobby Jameson can write, play, and sing."

After about 25 songs, I stopped, wiped off the sweat, and put my guitar down. I lit a cigarette and said, "Well there ya go, man. That's what I do and I did it for you," as I blew out a large cloud of smoke into the air.

I looked over at Dennis, who appeared a little unsure of what to say or do next, and said, "Well whatta ya think, man?"

Dennis finally gathered himself and confessed that I'd blown his mind, which seemed odd coming from him, because he looked so straight. I chuckled, and took another drag on my cigarette and waited for him to say something.

"How is it that you have so many good, better than good, songs, and can play them all as easily as you just did for me, and you are not signed to a record deal?" he asked.

"Don't know, Dennis," I said, "I guess I'm not that good or there are a lot of dumb shits in the music business, you tell me?"

"Well it's obvious you're good enough," he said, "so it must be the people in the business."

I looked at him and laughed, blowing smoke in the air again. "Yeah," I said smiling, "It must be the people in the business."

We sat there for a long time, and I listened to him tell me about who he was and what he wanted to do. At that point I was giving him my full attention, just as he'd done for me while I played him my songs.

We were worlds apart, but I could see that he was making a real effort to communicate his dream to me. I respected him for that, and his willingness to try and bridge the obvious gap between us. I began to believe he was actually serious about getting something going.

After quite a bit of talking, he asked me what I wanted in the way of money to get under way with some sort of an arrangement.

I had nothing to lose at that point so I threw out a number off the top of my head. "$500 a week," I said, "for a minimum of one year, and then we'll see how it goes from there."

I watched him closely for a response and saw no signs of balking. "Well that sounds reasonable," he said, "let me get together with with my partner, George, and go over some numbers.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

(part 200) SONGS....LOTS AND LOTS OF SONGS


West Hollywood and the Sunset Strip

It might appear to some who have read what I have been writing here that I have a problem with AA, which I do not. The program of Alcoholics Anonymous, as laid out in the simple text of its book, is straight ahead, and works.

My problems were with me, and various members of the program who attempted to shove their version of AA down my throat, and then say they were only trying to help.

If you've read my story, you are aware that I probably came to the program a total and complete mess. Possibly more of a mess than some others.

As I began my life in AA, I'd found different books about spirituality that I used to deal with my life and it's numerous problems.

But rather than dealing with many of my own character defects and flaws at a rock bottom level, I covered many of them over with techniques I found in some of these books.

Science Of Mind gave me a way to focus my attention, and worked in the sense that I, either by coincidence or design, was able to appear to have something tangible occur in the way of results. But when the house of cards I built collapsed, I was again faced with the bulk of the problems I came to the program with.

In the early days of my sobriety I lived in West Hollywood and the surrounding area, which was full of well off, sometimes quite successful, people. A lot of show business people, doctors, lawyers, etc.

I had fallen into the trap of equating success in sobriety with success with money, property, and prestige. Back then I didn't know any better, and it just seemed to be the way it was.

Because of my initial financial success in the program, I knew about both sides of the proverbial coin so to speak. I had played the role of the successful person for awhile, and then the role of the loser. This is not an overstatement. It was literally that stark.

The west side of L.A. is either hot or cold, like it or not. The competitive reality exists there, and you either get it or you don't. I'd never gotten it from the standpoint of being an ongoing success, but I knew the area like a coyote knows his hunting ground. I'd spent too much time there not to know how it worked.

One of the strangest things about 12 step programs, particularly in places like West L.A., is that people come to them because they have problems beyond just drugs and alcohol.

After they've been clean and sober for awhile, they start acting like they don't have those problems anymore, or that they've fixed them all.

This was and is a dangerous mindset, and in my world, an absolute nonstarter. If nothing else, I knew I was screwed up, an opinion shared by most who knew me. I guess it is always easier to focus on someone like me than to have to look at oneself.

I was never quiet about my problems. I just couldn't hide them. I tried, but never had success in sustaining the persona of "every thing's fine." My resentment toward living sober like I'd lived when I was loaded, bothered me to no end and I said so.

I would appear at times not to be sober at all, because I was so vocal about these debilitating conditions. But beneath that outward appearance, I was on a 24-hour a day search for real answers to my problems, and for peace, although nobody much thought so then, or thinks so now.

Difficulties again rose along the way when I got involved in a second relationship with a well known actress on the program. This ended after we had a fight over me collecting junk stereo equipment to sell.

I had piled this stuff around her apartment, where I was living, and she had finally gotten tired of it and said something harsh to me about it.

My reaction to her scolding me led to the fight, and I raised my fist as if I were going to hit her. I didn't, but knew I had come too close to the real thing. I decided it was unacceptable on my part, and my punishment for this act was to remove myself from her home immediately.

A few weeks later, I was in an AA meeting in the area, and she and her new boyfriend walked in together. When I saw them I felt like a trapped rat. I would have left, but I was leading the meeting, so I stayed.

In somewhat of a panic, I searched my mind for a way out of the situation. Coming up empty I simply walked toward them and watched their eyes as they saw me approaching.

When I reached them I smiled and stuck out my hand saying, "I'm glad to see you both here, thanks for coming." I'm sure they were as surprised as I was to hear those words come out of my mouth.

After that incident, I could not shake the fact that that simple gesture had calmed the waters and eased the tension of the moment. I studied the phenomenon over and over, and began thinking of how it could be used in my life overall.

I got out my Science Of Mind book, after a long absence, and recall reading this sentence by Ernest Holmes. "If you're not loving everybody unconditionally, start now."

Hell I knew I wasn't loving everybody, so I just started trying to at least find something good in those whom I'd had trouble with, which was almost everybody.

It was hard to do, but I kept at it. When my mind started ripping into them I'd quiet it, and insert something less negative. Like I said, it was hard to do and extremely tedious, but I kept up the practice.

In 1979 I was painting the interior of some guy's house, and had about three and a half years of sobriety. As I worked I wondered if I was ever going to get out of the seeming rut I was in.

Carol Paulus, whom I still knew, and talked with periodically, told me about a lawyer she met who was interested in getting involved in the music business.

She said she'd told him about me, and said he wanted to meet me. At first I brushed it off, but it kept coming back up in conversations over time.

Finally after realizing she wasn't going to give up, I agreed to meet with him at Carol's apartment, and play him some new and unpublished songs I'd been writing. If nothing else, I always had songs. Lots and lots of songs.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

(part 199) STILL CLEAN AND SOBER



As you read this, I would remind you that I'm not telling you I'm right or wrong. I am telling you what happened to me and how I handled or, if you like, mishandled it.

In the aftermath of the humiliation of failure and blame, I fought to stay clean and sober through it all. Whatever success I had appeared to have had earlier on, was now gone. I was wiped out completely.

The expectations and moral demands laid on me by others, and how I should handle my emotions and thinking, was something I failed miserably in accepting or doing. It was not them who had lost it all, nor did they carry the dark history that I came to the program with.

My biggest problem was me, and my old ideas of complete capitulation in the wake of an all too familiar sense of disgrace. The old demons rose up inside me, and I found myself engaged, night and day, in a personal war with the old Bobby Jameson.

The world around me faded into the background as I wandered aimlessly from AA meeting to AA meeting in search of help. Too many times I ended up at the same one as my ex-girlfriend, and the whole painful mess would replay in my mind all over again.

Feelings of loneliness and worthlessness ran my life 24-hours a day. While I sank into a mire of self pity and self recriminations, I did not drink or use. To me the only real mistake I could have made at that point would have been to get loaded and/or kill myself.

Many were the times that I sat alone in fear of God and other human beings. I isolated myself behind a wall of AA sayings and phony emotional disguises to ward off the preaching of others.

Rather than deal with the real issues of a total sense of lack of self worth, abandonment, and failure, many had the tendency to mouth one liners like "Let go and let God" as their only notion of support.

God at that point was the last thing I dared or wanted to rely on. In my mind it had been my reliance on God in the first place that had led me down the path to the slaughter house. I didn't expect any agreement on the issue, but for me, letting go and letting God scared the shit out of me.

I existed for as long as I could in this make believe world of denial. Bur eventually, it was my anger at people and their various versions of the facts that caused me to snap.

The phony role playing in someone else's scripted version of the events is what I finally rebelled against. For anyone to say that what had happened was nothing more than "God's will" to my face, was the straw that broke the camel's back.

The condescending attitudes of the "Holier than thou" was eventually met by me fighting back and yelling, "Well fuck off! Who the hell needs a God whose will is always that I lose everything?"

To say the least, this was not welcomed by more than a very few, and my reputation for being quick to anger and slow to forgive, added to my difficulties.

I struggled on through months of depression and anger, trying to sort out my place in the realm of the 12 step programs that had saved my life. I searched for my own footprints in the sands of confusion.

I laid out the real facts as they'd truly happened and accepted them. Not in a peaceful or humble way, but at a rock bottom level of, "Here's how is."

I quit debating with the self appointed "Spiritual" people. I admitted to being incredibly pissed off at God, and said on more than one occasion, "If God's God, than he can handle my anger."

I based my position on the fact that I was still sober, and dismissed the words of those who said things like, "But you're so angry and unhappy."

There were actually those who seemed to know what I was doing, but mostly I was looked down on as someone who hadn't surrendered my will to God, and was constantly told as much by far too many.

To them I said, "I did surrender to God in the beginning, and I trusted him completely until I found that trusting him got the same results as not trusting him." They shook their heads, and gave me the "Oh Bob" look and walked away.

There were even those who said I should go get drunk and then try and make it back to the program with a better attitude. To these idiot assholes I said, "Go fuck yourself."

In the long run I was just the pissed off guy who stayed clean and sober during those times, and learned a lot about sobriety from the raw side.

I had lost everything alright, but I hadn't gotten loaded over it, and in the end that was all that really mattered. I'd weathered the storm, and turned my back on God, but I never threw in the towel.

I banged my way through it, and looked and sounded like shit doing it, but I was still in the game. I was still clean and sober.

Monday, August 24, 2009

(part 198) GOD'S BEAUTICIAN



I AM GOD'S
BEAUTICIAN
I DO HIS
HAIR
SOMEDAYS
GOD IS A SHE
AND I DO
HER HAIR

I SEE THAT
PRECISE LOGIC
IS YOUR
GAME
AND I AM WILLING
TO PLAY
BECAUSE I AM
NOT SO PRECISE

IT MAKES
YOU MAD
THAT I DO
GOD'S HAIR
I DO
NAILS TOO
MOSTLY GOD
IGNORES ME

BUT YOU CAN'T
IGNORE ME
BECAUSE YOU
ARE NOT GOD
I AM NOT
GOD EITHER
THAT'S WHY
IT'S OK TO BE ME

IF I WERE
GOD
THEN SOMEBODY
LIKE ME
WOULD HAVE
TO DO
MY NAILS
AND HAIR

Bobby Jameson Aug 24, 2009

Sunday, August 23, 2009

(part 197) ENOUGH BLAME TO GO AROUND



Looking back now at the RCA deal, and all the money spent by my girlfriend's father, I can see clearly that it was a bad idea. The original amount of $15,000 was as far as it should have gone.

I was newly sober, and the first check allowed me a real opportunity to have some choices I would not have otherwise had. It was a generous and well meaning gift.

What occurred, subsequent to that, changed the dynamics and took on a life of it's own. When RCA bought the first four songs I recorded, and gave me back the initial money I'd spent in the studio, those of us involved found ourselves in the midst of an alteration in perspective.

The future seemed more clearly defined as to the possibilities that lay ahead, once the label bought the four songs. My investment in the studio, with the money I'd been given, had paid dividends.

There had been no plan to invest more money, and I hadn't asked for any. The kicker was that a record company came into the picture and things changed.

None of us knew about DP, or his association with Bob Summer, the president of the label at the time. We did not learn of his involvement until later in the unfolding sequence of events.

My belief in 1977, which was shared by my girlfriend and her entire family, was that I was being guided by a "higher power" because I was sober and in AA.

This may look somewhat preposterous now, but back then it was as concrete a scenario as we could imagine. Three of us were in AA, and the rest of the family was in Alanon, so this thinking was not odd whatsoever.

Each of us, in our own mind, had reason to believe. We wanted to rely on such a thing, and so we did. We collectively and individually convinced ourselves of what we wanted to be true. That was what led to the idea of further investments.

I'd gotten my money back from RCA, so I wasn't walking around with my hand out. I had $16,000. The second investment was proposed by the family. It was a way to construct jobs for my girlfriend and her sister.

I saw nothing wrong with the idea, and so it happened. Both of them were in L.A. and needed a way to make money, and their father decided this was what he wanted to do. Again, it occurred prior to any knowledge of the problems that arose later.

Following the second check, four significant things came into play: the appearance of DP, his involvement with RCA's president Bob Summer, DP's desire to manage me, and the internal politics at the label itself.

As I have already said, none of these things were known by us at the time of the second investment. In fact, the president of RCA, my girlfriend's father, and I, all sat together in Bob Summer's office in New York, at one point, talking about how well the whole deal was going to go.

As a result, we all felt the future was bright, and that what was being done by everybody made complete sense. It was extremely positive. It is only in hindsight that 20/20 vision comes to such a critical view of those day's decisions made by us all.

It is seemingly logical now, after the fact, to offer up opinions and conclusions that were unclear and unknown then.

For my part, I was guilty of believing that I had put my past behind me. I was guilty of trusting God, sobriety, and myself to accomplish that which I had never accomplished before, a successful outcome.

Had I been more cynical, and used what I had learned from my own past experience, I would probably have fared better than I did.

But back then, I was enraptured by my belief that sobriety and life would be a celebration, and not the wholesale slaughter of emotions and dreams that it became.

To fault me now, as I tell this story, for believing that a better life was possible then, is a very dangerous judgement for anyone to make about what drove me.

I was as honest and forthright as I had ever been, and sought only to write songs and make recordings of them. I never asked for money in the first place, but once it was given, I managed it as best I could for all concerned.

I paid bills like rent, salaries, and recording costs. I did not throw money around. I drove a used car and had an apartment. I informed them all of each thing that I was doing. I did this because it's what I learned in AA.

When human beings are disappointed by what happens, and the outcome is not the one they hoped for, possibly those same human beings attempt to assign blame on others for the unwanted result.

I assigned blame to myself, RCA, Bob Summer, and DP. The rest of the blame I heaped on God, for not protecting me and a family of people who trusted me.

I could handle the up front knowledge of failure in the music business, because it was all I'd ever known, but this had been different. It happened in sobriety. It had gotten so close, only to be swept away in the end by a tidal wave of deceptions and manipulations.

I spent a great deal of time talking to God about this. It was said that God talks through people, and I heard every chicken shit answer I ever want to hear about why this happened from too many on the program.

Some were highly successful people in the music business, who had never spoken up at all until the end. And when they did speak, it was only to offer criticism.

I told them I had trusted God, and they laughed at me, saying, "You need more than God in the record business."

At another point, following the collapse, I sat in a tax auditor's office with my girlfriend and her father while we heard the amount of taxes that were owed.

My girlfriend's father made it quite clear in that office that he blamed me for getting him into a financial bind, and that he was not happy about it. I suggested he put it all on my back instead of his, to which he scoffed, "What are you going to do about it, you don't have any money?"

I felt like a child being annihilated by their parent. Later I had an argument with him saying, "You didn't invest in me. You used me as a means to give your daughters money, because you felt guilty about failing them as a father when they were growing up, because you were drunk."

His wife later made sure that I knew this was true, and for that I am grateful...