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...

Friday, August 21, 2009

(part 196) THE REAL WORLD



THE REAL WORLD
OF MAKE BELIEVE
WHERE PROMISES
AND RULES DECEIVE
A PLACE WHERE LOVE
CAN BARELY GROW
NOT WHAT WE DO
BUT WHO WE KNOW

I MY STORY
PUSHING BLAME
ON HE AND SHE AND
WHAT'S THEIR NAME
BUT IN THE END
IT'S I WHO FELL
AND I TO BLAME
FOR MY OWN HELL

WIGGLE WAGGLE
TONGUES ON FIRE
BOBBY JAMESON'S
A LIAR
POINTS AND COUNTER
POINTS A GAME
CALM YOURSELVES
I'LL TAKE THE BLAME

BLAME FOR THIS
AND BLAME FOR THAT
BLAMELESS FEW
FROM WHERE YOU SAT
HOUSES MADE
OF GLASS ALONE
WOULD WARN AGAINST
THE FIRST STONE THROWN

JUDGEMENT ROLLS
LIKE FROZEN DICE
FROM HEARTS SO COLD
THEY TURNED TO ICE
ACROSS THE STAINLESS
STEEL OF YOU
ERECT AND SITTING
IN YOUR PEW

Bobby Jameson Aug 21, 2009

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

(part 195) SLOW MOTION CRASH



Before my girlfriend's father got sick and died, there was a series of events that played out. It was similar to watching a car crash in slow motion.

I received a letter from RCA saying I'd been dropped from the label, and I remember thinking to myself, "That's it? I'm just dropped?" There was no explanation to it, just "you've been dropped."

I called my girlfriend and then her father, informing them of what had happened with RCA, which was like pouring salt on an open wound. They asked if there were any reasons given, and I said, "No! They just dropped me."

To have had a record that was being played on radio stations around the country, and getting a short cold letter saying "you're out," was like getting kicked off a baseball team for hitting a home run.

I could not offer them anything, logically, that could explain what had happened to their investment or their faith in me. There was absolutely no reason at all why "Stay With Me" had not been a success for RCA, other than DP and internal politics.

I could not convince my girlfriend's father that what had happened was not my fault. As a result, all money stopped coming in, and the road ahead grew darker still.

I lost my apartment and all visible means of support. My once bright world collapsed around me like a house of cards. I was now faced with an all too familiar question of, "now what?"

Going from a self supporting sober member of society to a flat broke musician, with no home and no job, was almost more than I could bear. I sat in my living room and looked around my apartment for the last time. I hung my head at the thought of what lay ahead.

There was no other answer than, "don't kill yourself or get loaded, and put one foot in front of the other and just keep moving." It was something I'd done many times before. I reached out to people, but was treated more like a leper than a person in need of support.

The justification for this was that I had somehow convinced my girlfriend and her father that I knew what I was doing, and they'd trusted me only to find in the end I was an idiot and a liar. The entire blame for the failure was placed on me, and for the most part that remains the conclusion today.

Rather than a person following a path to a successful outcome, I was regarded as a fast talking con-man by most in AA. My despair was so overwhelming that I feared for my life and indeed my sanity.

Those two things I again knew only too well from past experience. The fact that I was sober and had to endure them once again was both mystifying and terrifying.

I had truly believed that I had had a partnership with God, and was simply doing what he wanted me to. I believed that all of what had started by me getting sober, and writing a few songs, had been the right direction.

I was now sitting in the ruins of what was obviously another Bobby Jameson pipe dream. I remember looking in a mirror at my face saying "what an asshole you are," and shaking my head in disgust.

At that moment I couldn't believe that I'd thought that anything that happened in my life would ever turn out well. It never had in the past, and now here I was again standing in the ruthless reality of my pathetic existence.

I wandered through those days aimlessly holding on to my sobriety a moment at a time. I rented a bedroom in a guy's house for $200 a month, and in the end, couldn't even pay that.

My girlfriend had gotten a job at an advertising company on Sunset Blvd., and I went by her office to tell her we could still make it because we had each other and were sober. As I stood in the doorway of her workplace, like a broken child, she slowly closed the door in my face saying "It's over Bobby, go away. It's over."

I broke down in tears on the sidewalk of Sunset Blvd. where so much of my life had been left. As I stared at the familiar surroundings of "The Strip" I tried to hide my shame and humiliation from passersby, but could not.

They eyed me coldly while I leaned against the building and sobbed. I had nothing left. And once again, I was a human reject in utter pain and desperation. The disillusionment I felt that afternoon is with me still.

The feelings caused by my failings, and my dismissal by virtually everyone, was devastating. In that moment in my life I had nothing to live for or with.

I did not know what to do. For the next number of months, I learned what it was like to be sober and regarded as the thing not to be in AA. I found that other rejects around the program were my only salvation, and that their lot in life was now mine as well.

It was my anger then, that rose up inside me in those dark days, and pulled me through. Anger at the lies told about me, and anger at the assumption that I would probably drink as a remedy for my shortcomings, as assigned to me by the "good people."

Like a thirsty man, consuming his own sweat to stay alive, my anger refused to let me get loaded.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

(part 194) SEA OF TEARS



HOLY GHOST
THE SACRED
PRISM
I INSIDE EACH
CRITICISM
STAND BEFORE
YOU
IN MY
BLEEDING
CRIMSON WOUND
AM I MY
PLEADING

WRITE
MY WORDS
UPON THE SKY
I OUTSIDE
EACH
WATCHFUL EYE
STANDING ON
A SEA
OF TEARS
HOLY LIGHT
IMPALES
MY FEARS

NAKED ME
THE FLESH
NOW QUICKENS
MYSTICISM
HOW IT
SICKENS
WORDS
THAT HAMMER
IN THE NAILS
RUTHLESS WORLD
WHICH STILL
PREVAILS

Robert Parker Jameson April 4, 2009

Monday, August 10, 2009

(part 193) RAGS TO RICHES...TO RAGS



In 1978 I had a little over two years of sobriety. I was signed to RCA, and had a record released and being played on the radio. I had a relationship with a women and her family, I could pay my own rent, and my expectations for a real life had actually manifested into a concrete reality.

I'd gone from an insanely suicidal, loaded loser, to a somewhat well balanced, sober, recording artist in a couple of short years. Many in AA referred to me as a "gold cadillac" story, which meant I'd gone from "rags to riches" in sobriety.

While my girlfriend's father and I sought to rectify the problems that continually arose with the promotion of my record, neither of us could have possibly contemplated the end result.

Whatever the collective facts were in the dark backdrop of RCA's internal workings back then, I can only guess about now.

There was no way for us to gauge what was happening behind the scenes in 1978, or remain unscathed by it. In essence, "we never saw it coming." It, being the total calamity that ultimately befell our all-out efforts to secure a success with "Stay With Me."

In the final analysis, my girlfriend's father coughed up over a hundred grand to the cause, only to see his investment go down the tubes.

The fact was, that RCA never did ship any records to the markets where radio airplay had created a demand for it. Whether by stupidity or purposeful sabotage, "Stay With Me" was left hanging on the tree to rot in the sun like a ripe, but unpicked fruit. In time it fell to the ground and was left for dead, while me and my girlfriend and her family were to left to bury the carcass.

My positive demeanor was ripped away by circumstances once again, and replaced with the old familiar failure persona. My stable "can do" attitude of the past couple of years disappeared under the bright lights of humiliation.

To try and sum up in mere written words what it actually felt like back then is an impossibility. Likewise, for me to understand what my girlfriend's father and her entire family felt like, is also an equally impossible task.

Suffice it to say, it was intolerable, and it grew worse as it engulfed all of us like a living nightmare, coupled with shock and despair.

For me, there was no way to see it as anything but an unmitigated disaster. I floundered in a sea of regret and failed responsibility, which cut into my very core.

The return of my past into my present, was like dying and being awake to experience myself being dead. My faith and fragile trust in God, was crushed like a child's toy under foot, and the lack of help and support from anyone in AA was something I will never forget.

While many ran to the aid of my girlfriend, I was ignored like an abandoned child, and buried under a mountain of blame, heaped on me by her supporters.

As I struggled to maintain, not only my sobriety, but my sanity, during this chaos, I am stricken, even now, by the enormity of that dismal task. Day after day, month after month, I disintegrated into the familiar territory of Bobby Jameson, "loser."

Had I been able to trust God at that point, which I could not, I may have done better than I did. But in those dark days my most constant thought was, "Why, God? What was the fucking point? If you were just going to let this happen again, why did you let us get so far?"

That was my mantra! That was my question to God! "Why? Why did you let this happen? If getting sober, and being as above board as I'd ever been in my life got me the same old results that I got when I was loaded, then what was the Goddamned point?"

I could not, and still can't, answer that question to my satisfaction. I will tell you though, I have had to live with, for over thirty years, the smug condemnation and opinion of others, hurled at me by the self appointed spiritual experts on this subject. Those, who in no way experienced the trauma, but were all too eager to offer their opinion on the matter.

Back then, I was shoved to the outskirts of AA by many, once it was known that my successes had turned into a disaster. The fickle nature of members of twelve step programs was seared into my consciousness forever.

My then faltering ability to believe there was a God who cared about me, vanished altogether. Not because I didn't get what I wanted, or asked for, or demanded, but because the wholesale slaughter of dreams and lives went far beyond that.

In less than a year of the collapsed business adventure, my girlfriend's father was diagnosed with bone cancer, and died a slow and painful death.

This too, was heaped on my back by his entire family, including my girlfriend. Their belief was that he got sick as the direct result of the stress caused by his involvement with me, RCA and Bob Summer, and the music business in general.