That's a rap...
This has been quite the experience all the way around. One of the things confirmed for me here is there is no difference in all of us who walk the face of the earth... just a bunch variables. And even then we're still a predictable lot with the same needs for humour, music, activity, offspring, etc.,etc. I have much to write about in the next few weeks so, please stay tuned and let me know when you stumble onto these pages...

5 Star Hotel Accomodations aren't always what their cracked up to be...So, I'm trying to get some sleep and a serious vapor that would rival a mid 70's Manhatten bathhouse [not that I would personally know about things like that] permeates my room. My eyes burning, I can't breath really, and I'm getting slightly high. Out in the hallway there are workers wearing masks, spraying, painting, varnishing or whatever the fuck they're doing with liquid chemicals. I called, nobody came. I called someone else - they had no authority to open my windows. Huh?

In the old days, a major fit would have been thrown by me and it may have cost somebody else money but I'm not the out of control intense artist I used to be. I tell the bandleader, I tell band mates to come to my floor and check out the chemical factory. After rehearsal and by time I get people back to my floor, the stench has subsided. But it's still bad to my visitors. All the workers are gone. I go to my room and the stench is more than tolerable. OK...kewl. I save corporate face.

I wake the next day and it smells like someone has sprayed my bed with acetone. My eyes burning, I get dressed and leave. You have GOT to be kidding me. I'm in such a chemical stupor that I don't even care. I'm out of here in a few days. I show up late for work that night with an attitude. I I grab the bass and start playing in the middle of the current song. My statement in this extreme case is this. I asked for help. Nobody took care of me, so, now you too will be inconvenienced.

People started caring when I no longer cared. Phone calls came later that night telling me to move to another room. I say the stench is gone. I made it through. The next day the stench is back. This time I smile and say I give up. You got me. This is corporate life. The squeeky wheel gets the grease. Apparently, I didn't squeek loud enough and gave up too soon. I just don't care. We're a corporation; no time to pick up a fellow worker. Simply walk around the fallen and stay on task, You company man !

My personal reply to Jeneane concerning her 7/9 blog entry Voicelessness...
Hi my Baby. So, it is now spoken, the innermost life changing events that shape our lives. Of all that I've known you are the purest woman I have ever known.I've always told you that you will forever be pure of heart no matter what the world has done to you. I've never thought in those terms when I was a young buck thinking that my mother's advice of [out of the blue, I might add] 'George, you'd better marry a virgin' was correct when I was still a virgin. I remember the week before I met you how wrong and haughty I was for thinking that physical virginity was the answer to my jealous heart.

That's when it was time for me to meet you. I was so angry at my ex-wife for not 'waiting' for me. I tormented her night and day and drove us both insane trying to change the events that I thought mattered. The bottom line on that whole situation was that even if she was a virgin she could never truly love anyone but herself and she still doesn't know how to do that.

She lied to me and said she was raped by some guy in college. Truth of the matter is she was in denial. Her experiment with sex was dissapointing to her and had to tell me a lie so she would appear pure in heart to me, a 17year old virgin who believed in true love and exclusivity. Every woman I was with after her brought out the same anger even if they were pure of heart, because I was blinded by my stupidity, jealousy, anger and rage. What the hell was I thinking?! Fucking for virginity? One day, a week before I met you, I prayed and humbled myself to the Creator, my *Father in the Heavens [*I was crying to my mother on my knees when I was a young boy of 10 yrs because I wanted a father in my life. My parents separated a few months before I was born so I didn't know him or meet him until I was 13yrs. My mother, who had to be strong after the divorce, replied sternly saying 'You have a father! Your Father in the Heavens!' This was perhaps the guidline to how I live my life. Know earthly man has any authority beyond the respect they are deserving. This is a serious chip on my shoulder...] begging forgivness for my stupidity thinking that I was better than another human being especially after all that I had done with other woman. I'm hoping I'm making these statements clear for my readers. I'm in a different frame of mind this week...I'll clairfy this later.

Jeneane, you came looking for me. You wanted me. It wasn't a random ' Let's see who's ready to fuck tonight' kind of thing. You are the first woman I haven't been able to conjer up bad feelings of resentment towards. You are the sweetest girl and a real woman. Occassionally[sp] I still have those feelings of anger towards both of our mothers for what I won't go into. Is that where that anger is supposed to go? Another question. How do other men cope with certain things while their women mock them.. Hell of a statement, I know, but do you understand what I am always saying to you? I truly love you! No matter what!

I'm sitting in the F&B office...
[could be called F'n'B which used to stand for f*****g b**** but actually means Food and Beverage] quickly typing overhearing the chefs talk about who double ordered the beluga cavier. There's about four different languages flying about- Cantonese, French, German, English occasionally, talk about feeling left out! This is great because you still feel what they are talking about. Someone fucked up. Because 50% of my hearing has been destroyed over the last three months, I have to find innovative ways to understand what people are saying. I just ran into the brilliant bassist from the Brazilian band that plays downstairs from our band. He speaks Portugese and French only but, we understand each other perfectly. We do alternate sets so, when I'm running upstairs to get to my job I get to hear his band play and immediately I am humbled. I wish our band had that kind of musicality! They come up to hear us-and we kinda suck- maybe getting pointers from our singer who has mastered the art of holding the attention of the audience all night. She's an awesome singer,too. Gotta go! They just found a jar of cavier in my briefcase! LATER

Weinberger
You haven't put me in your roster with rest of the greats but, you're still a fucking
genius
We were talking while on break last night about the possibilities of implants to record the music we're thinking about [it would save me a lot of time. I'm getting hard just thinking about the possibilities...DOH!]

Another Fallen Hero
Can't take much news like this What I can't believe is the headline description...NO respect