5 random photographs

crotchety

In an effort to prove how crotchety I can be whilst out and about on the town, the wife made a list of every "crotchety" thing I said from Sonic to the pharmacy and then on home (probably no more than 2 miles). She did this without me knowing. Here are some highlights, free of context:

• "It don't matter, he'll suck it down so fast."
• "...if they can even hear me over this caterwaulin' radio."
• "Someone stole my pens and now they're messed up."
• "The older I get the less tolerance I have for this music."
• "This is dopehead music."
• "Don't put no damn straw in mine...straws are for weaklings."
• "I can't see from this damn blind spot. Ridiculous car...whoever designed it was on drugs."
• "Make yo mind up, Joe."
• "Those jackasses are still sitting on the porch."

King Tongue: "Jack Casual's Back"

I'll try to dole out these videos of my old bands sparingly. This one was filmed at some wedding reception at a restaurant called Charlie's Fire Lake steak house. I'm guessing it was sometime in the middle of 2000, seeing as how King Tongue only lasted a year or so. The song is one of my favorites. We wrote it in the early 90s when we were playing together as HEAD. It's called "Jack Casual's Back" and the name came from a friend who used to follow us around. He called me Jack Casual, for some reason. He may have even said "Jack Casual's back!" at some point but I thought it would be neat to use a double meaning of sorts, with "Jack Casual's back must be strong" then "Jack Casual's back must be tired" and finally "Jack Casual's back in town...". There's a line in there that goes "How green his garden grows, he's making necklaces and bracelets from the hairs in his nose"...that was inspired by a guy I'd played in a band with who had extremely long nose hairs that stuck out of his nostrils.


"Jack Casual's Back" © 2011 by James Arthur Casey. All rights reserved

ain't gonna "rise and shine"

I used to have a ritual every morning upon rising in which I would call to mind Psalm 118:24: "This is the day which the Lord hath made, we will rejoice and be glad in it". I was on board with the truth that the Lord had given me another 24 hours. Thankful, too. I'm nothing if not grateful for all the things I have been blessed with (even if I don't seem that way to others). But to "rejoice"? To "be glad in it"? Now those are not easy things to do. At least not for me. 

I want to believe that my inability to truly be happy and joyful at the prospect of another day is a nasty by-product of bipolar disorder. The slight downward swing, in particular. I do take an anti-depressant, and I think it is effective, to the extent, probably, that such medications can be for someone who has suffered with BP for as long as I have...for the last few years I had come to the conclusion that I'd rather deal with the depression that had made it's home in my soul than to mess around with the medication combination that I had been prescribed. It seemed to be working. For almost three decades I chose not to take medicine at all (perhaps not a wise decision, but under the circumstances I felt it was the only one). When I committed, in 2006, to seriously work with medications I did so with the main goal of avoiding a manic episode such as the one that convinced me I HAD to do something. 

I had faith in my doctor. She's no longer in private practice but if she were I would still be seeing her. Her knowledge of psychiatric medications was second to none. She spent a lot of time telling me about options, possible side-effects (of great concern to me) and explaining how they worked in the brain. I was lost most of the time, but I realized she knew what she was doing and I developed trust in her. Unfortunately economic concerns forced her to return to work for the state and by the time my depression really began to "solidify" we were  no longer in touch.

So I just let it be. At first the swing towards the upper end would relieve some of the symptoms, but as time went by I came to realize just how pervasive the depression had become. 

You know, I see all these commercials on tv, "Is it difficult for you to stay motivated? Do you sometimes feel hopeless? Have you lost interest in things that once seemed important to you?", basically some drug company or another trying to market a new drug for depression, and I have to wonder if "depression" has become nothing more than a code word for "I'm in a bad mood a lot of the time" or "I can't deal with *insert petty concern here* and it makes me sad all the time" and blah blah blah. These people wouldn't know depression if it were a narcotic you could shoot straight into their veins. I'm not putting everyone who thinks they are actually clinically depressed in the same box, because obviously a lot of them really are. But with the pervasiveness of all these adverts you'd think that depression was the "Next-Big-Thing".

Depression, or at least I should say "depression as I have known it", is not going to be persuaded by an ad campaign to be treated. It is like a heavy weight, and that sounds like I'm using figurative language, but really I'm not: you can actually physically feel it, like a huge invisible hand pressing you down. The hate that builds up within you centers in your brow and forehead and before long you have a permanent scowl. You get annoyed at the slightest little thing. Anger and bitterness are like air to breathe and cynicism becomes second nature. You know you're making your family miserable, but you also know that it is the DEPRESSION that is doing it, not you. As if that makes any difference. Either way you're leaving a bad impression on the ones you love. Who knows what my depression has instilled within my son as he's grown up trying to deal with it? Knowing that only throws gasoline on the fire of self-loathing. And all this builds up and gets worse over time.

Anyway, that's been my individual experience. I only brought it up to show why I decided it was essential to add an anti-depressant to my medication regiment. The doctor at the behavioral center put me on Welbutrin. I hoped it would work but I wasn't putting any money on it. A month went by and, believe it or not, I sensed a little relief. I don't remember if it was ENOUGH relief to get my hopes up too high but it was a start. The next month I seemed to be a little better still. In the course of a few months I could actually feel the difference. I'm not 100% cured, I don't think anyone is ever completely cured of depression (just as bipolar disorder is not curable). But I'll take it. 

So, "this is the day which the Lord hath made, we will rejoice and be glad it it"...I guess I do have a lot to be thankful for. Much to rejoice over, whether it "feels" like rejoicing or not. I can be "glad in it", because I know what it is to live the opposite. I do believe I'm alive and well only because God has been merciful to create for me another day. If it's difficult to recite Psalm 118:24 as if it were a mantra every morning it's only because I'm grumpy getting out of bed. Lots of folks like that, it doesn't nullify the sentiment of the verse. 

Better the Psalm than "Rise and Shine!!!" Oh how I hate that phrase.   

Merry Christmas!

A reunion

I'm still kind of reeling from yesterday...after many, many years apart, never knowing if I'd ever see her again, I was reunited with my daughter Aubrey.

I initially found her on MySpace about 4 years ago. I'd googled her name regularly for a long time after first getting a computer, but never had any success. In October, I think it was 2008, her grandmother passed away and I was able to learn her married name via the obituary. With that information I was able to quickly locate her on MySpace and sent a friend request immediately. She accepted it and we began to communicate. Actually it was very sporadic at first. Part of the reason was because MySpace, with it's narcissistic bent, was not a very good messaging medium. But like most people she and I migrated to facebook and left MySpace to rot. Which is really kind of sad now I think about it...I mean if it weren't for the service I would not have found her. I owe a debt of gratitude to Bob and the other poor suckers who made the website what it was before watching it sink in the wake of facebook.

With facebook we had a much better vehicle of communication and we used it. Limiting the conversations to facebook messages seemed like the right thing to do at first, because my plan was to take things slow. A month or so ago we began talking on the phone.

Well by now I guess I should provide some background...Her mother and I broke up when she was 6 months old. She was basically spirited away where I couldn't find her and the only chance I had to see her was when she was visiting her grandmother in town. I wasn't happy about the arrangement, as I felt like I should have been allowed to take her out sometimes. Like maybe to the cafe for a coke or somthing simple like that. But my ex-wife wouldn't hear of it. When she was 4 years old I had a conversation with her grandmother that led me to believe that I should not come around anymore. At all. My dad and his 3rd wife were allowed to take her out but I couldn't be there.

I didn't see her again until she was 12 years old. I'm sure it was my dad's wife's idea but they brought her to my house. She wasn't allowed to get out of their truck. She had to have been scared to death. Obviously they didn't call to inform me that they would be coming around with her so it was a complete surprise to me. Only made worse by the knowledge that she wasn't supposed to be there. Moreover, I was not in a "proper state of mind" to deal with the situation. I spoke with her from outside the door of the truck and she sort of cowered in the front seat, without a doubt unsure of what to say or do. I was excited to see her but it was definitely not the way I wanted it to be.

I think she was like 24 years old when I next heard from her, and that was when I saw her on MySpace. So we're talking 12 years without even knowing where the other was. I never counted that clandestine visit, so as far as I was concerned it had been 20. Twenty years. I already had a teenage son by that time.

That was an awesome time, but up on the same level was yesterday when myself and my family spent the day with her and her husband. I won't even try to describe it other than to say that on a list of the absolute greatest, most important days of my life, yesterday is way, way up there. We are both very excited about building a relationship that, even if it can never be the kind that we would have had if I'd raised her myself, will hopefully be every bit as rewarding and precious for both of us.

I learned a lot about myself yesterday, with this huge gap in my heart finally filled. I was able to stop asking myself if God actually, really answered prayer. I was convinced that it was a waste of time, I guess because my own prayers seemed to fall upon deaf ears. But yesterday was a miracle. The whole chain of events that led to it were miraculous. I don't believe in coincidence and I never have. I never will. The way this all came together could not have been by chance. It wasn't luck. It happened for a purpose, and that purpose was not necessarilly limited to a chance for us to finally get to know each other. It was a healing, pure and simple. I will never be the same, and realized this as I was sitting in the passenger seat on the way home. I remembered all the prayers and I felt like I should give thanks to God for finally answering them. So as I prayed I tried to express just how grateful I was and the more I tried the more I realized I wouldn't be able to. I could never, in a million years, thank Him enough for this. And in that gratitude I felt His presence, almost like all the happiness, joy and thankfulness needed somewhere to go, as it was endless, and He was there to take it all in, and that's when I figured out what it meant to give praise and honor to the Lord. How He is worthy of it, not because He is "selfish" or "greedy", but because He is the source of that praise and honor, it can only flow back to Him, He recieves it because it was His to begin with. That circuit of praise is FOR US.

Ah, but as so often is the case, I wasn't meaning to split off into a load of stuff about religion. Sorry, but I just couldn't help myself this time. Hopefully I made some sense. My definition of "praise" probably doesn't jibe well with what most people think it means. But that's neither here nor there. What I wanted to say here is that I'm a happy man right now. This is really a dream come true and I hope everyone who is reading this has a dream and that it will be an answered prayer as well.

My two children, together for the first time, with their old man.

Better call Saul!!!

"Breaking Bad" is addictive. Got NetFlix? Take my advice and check it out.

  BETTER CALL SAUL!!! 

A few promo shots of HEAD, 1992

One of the better bands I've been a part of, HEAD.

Dream Journal: December 15, 2011

I dreamed I was at a small department store across the street from the Dollar General store. I bought a bunch of junk food. Cookies, candies and two Slim Jim meat sticks which were twice as tall as the bag the stuff was in. As a result I had a difficult time tying the bag, which I would not have worried about but I had to go to the Dollar store for some other things and worried that the clerk there would think I'd brought it in to shoplift.

As I walked into the store the first thing I noticed was Sandy Denny playing on the store's sound system. Odd that someone would be playing Denny, but even more so because the Dollar store doesn't even have an in-store sound system. I decided it must be coming from the portable stereo at the check-out counter. I made a point to congratulate the cashier on her excellent choice in music. 

I showed the checker my tied-up bag from across the street to let her know that she could trust me not to rip them off, then I walked to the back of the store where the fabric softeners were kept. Apparently a bottle of Downy was my purpose for coming to the store. To the strains of "Listen, Listen" I checked out the stock only to find that they were out of the proper size. They only had a slightly smaller bottle and a really big bottle...but both of them were only half full. I noticed that all the brands of fabric softener were half full and I thought, well maybe you're supposed to add water now? 

I decided I'd wait until I was sure the situation wasn't universal before making a purchase and I walked towards the exit, still intending to compliment the cashier for her choice of music.  When I saw her I was struck with the impression that she was not the kind of person who liked Sandy Denny. Don't ask me why. I know it's stupid. But it discouraged me from saying anything. 

There was a small refrigerator near the counter...not one of those refrigerator units the keep soda pop in, you know, the point-of-purchase "yeah, might as well get something to drink, never mind that it's twice the price of warm soda in the pop section" trick. Just a small ice box. I opened the door and as the frost rolled out I noticed something in the door shelf. A CD. A copy of "No More Sad Refrains: the Sandy Denny Anthology". What it was doing in there I wouldn't even presume to guess, but I wasn't going to say anything about it. 

I walked out of the store befuddled and I woke up even more so. I'm not convinced that dream interpretation isn't on the same level as telephone psychic hot lines, but it would be interesting, even if not enlightening, to know what this one signified. Some possible factors that may play into a genuine interpretation:

• I've been fairly successful in maintaining a low calorie diet over the last month or two. The junk food (especially the Slim Jims) represents a strong craving for food that actually tastes good.

• A paranoid suspicion that people, store employees in general, think I'm going to steal from them, even though it's the farthest thing from my mind. 

• Maybe I should break out that Sandy Denny anthology and give it a spin.

• An almost desperate desire to bond with someone based upon their taste in music, which is actually significant because all my best friends have scattered across the land and it would do me a world of good to make some new ones. Yet I don't feel that I can do that with anyone who isn't as passionate about music as I am. Maybe I'm cutting myself out with such a requirement, but I can't help it. Music is my comfort zone and up to now I have yet to be introduced to anyone with similar characteristics.

That last one probably holds the key to the entire dream. I would elaborate but I've already spent more time on this post than I had planned. 

R.E.M.: The Dream is Over

I wrote this on September 23, which, if memory serves, was the day after REM broke up...

In 1985 I found myself locked behind the walls of the Naval Hospital's 4th floor psych ward in Orlando, FL. I wound up spending almost 6 months there, waiting for a bipolar disorder diagnosis. A tragic situation on many levels. One of the worst experiences of my life, made all the worse for the wonderful things happening on the outside that I should have been a part of. Mainly the birth of my first child, a daughter who I was not able to see until over a month after her arrival. Many were the times when I felt like giving up, but knowing I'd soon be with her kept me going.

There was something else that kept me going, though it certainly was not of the same magnitude as seeing my daughter. It might not make sense to a lot of people, but that thing was a record album. Namely Fables of the Reconstruction by R.E.M., a band that I had decided, a couple of years before, was the best American rock band of all time. Music being my passion, I'm not sure that I could describe just how much this group affected me, from the first bars of Chronic Town, their debut EP, to the last chords of "Little America" from their second full-length offering, Reckoning.

I was in a band myself at the time. Ask the other guys how infatuated with R.E.M. I was...They'll probably tell you that I wanted to turn it into an R.E.M. tribute band, and who knows but maybe there is some truth in that. I would gladly have worked up their entire catalog up to that point if I thought they would let me. Luckily my excitement was contagious and they both wound up being R.E.M. fans eventually.

I wanted to do everything the way they did. Their "ethos" seemed so right to me. Uncompromising originality, doing it their way, never letting the new record sound too much like the last one, working their fan base from the ground up, going out in teams of two to promote themselves...they seemed honest and genuine. I admired everything about them musically, from Peter Buck's jangling guitar to Mike Mills' chordal bass playing to Bill Berry's rock solid drumming...and okay, I will confess, it was Michael Stipe's voice, style and slurring that really sold me on them. Even so, it was the package deal that kept me interested.

Do you want to know how obsessed I was with R.E.M. in 1984? I owned a SWEET MusicMan Stingray bass guitar...one of the best basses made at the time. I loved it. Then, one evening as I watched the band's appearance on some forgotten MTV "Rock Legends" program I saw Mike Mills' Rickenbacker and decided, then and there, that I had to have one, too. If that was part of what made up the R.E.M. sound, well I needed that. To make a long story short, I traded in my MusicMan and a hundred bucks for a piece of crap stereo Rickenbacker that sounded awful and was difficult to play.

One of the big disappointments of my life up to that point (inexperienced youth that I was) was missing the band touring for the Reckoning album when they played at a renovated church in Norman, Oklahoma called The Bowery (the legendary Bowery, as far as I was concerned). I'd heard they were going to perform there but when I called to get details I was told they'd already been there...the night before! So I asked if they knew where the band was scheduled to play next. It was at some bowling alley in Dallas on that evening. The next show was in St. Louis, Missouri and I seriously thought about doing whatever I had to do to get there. I think it was Southern Methodist University (I could be wrong). They informed me that students had first dibs on the tickets and I knew right then that it was hopeless. I did eventually see them, during the Life's Rich Pagaent tour. It wasn't Fables-centric, but they did most of my favorite songs ("Sitting Still" & "Shaking Through" are the ones I remember the best). Mike Mills even said something about how the first time they'd played in Oklahoma was at "some church". I think they played Oklahoma one more time after that, for the Green album. I missed that one, but it was okay by me. I wasn't real happy with the direction their music was going at the time they signed with Warner Bros.. I was just happy I'd been able to see them before then.

So, what does all this have to do with getting through a 6 month stint in observation? Just this: I'd heard that the band's 3rd album was going to be released in mid-to-late '85 and I could not wait! Oh, but I had to. Because it came out about two months after I took up residence on the 4th floor psych ward! Such bad timing! One day I'm listening to the stereo in the lounge when, I couldn't believe it myself, "Can't Get There From Here" comes on. It sounds almost nothing like R.E.M.. I wanted to hear it again and a few more times to get a handle on the direction they were heading. I thought it was pretty good on first hearing, but I couldn't be sure just how much I might like it without a couple more decent listens. To make matters worse I got a copy of Rolling Stone and wouldn't you know it? The feature review was of Fables of the Reconstruction. It was a very positive review. I remember seeing all the song titles, wondering what the songs themselves might sound like. I proselytized R.E.M. to any and all of the psych techs who cared to listen and no doubt more than one realized that getting to hear that record was one of the things that kept my chin up. Re-united with wife and daughter was most important, obviously, but getting my own copy of Fables was a powerful incentive to hang on as well.

I know I haven't gone into detail about what I went through there. Or how or why or whatever, none of it really needs to be related other than to point out that those days, weeks, months WERE difficult for me. I don't think I can over-emphasize how these things, big and small, pulled me through, or to describe exactly what it was they actually did pull me through. Suffice to say that I will be thankful for them until the day I die.

It should come as no surprise that one of the first things I did when I was discharged was go straight to Sound Warehouse to buy a copy of Fables of the Reconstruction....or Reconstruction of the Fables depending on which side of the jacket you were looking at. The wheels were set in motion. The grooves in the record would be worn out only weeks later. The music, in the grand R.E.M. tradition, shared little in common with what came before. Just enough to remind you of who you were listening to and why you loved them. Yes, I had my favorites. "Life and How to Live It", "Feeling Gravity's Pull"...and there were a couple I wasn't all that crazy about, "Old Man Kinsey", "Maps and Legends". But as a whole I couldn't think of too many albums that were so consistently excellent.

Maybe my reverence for Fables of the Reconstruction is tinged with sentimental attachment. So it is. Still I have no problem coming out and saying that it is one of the few truly great records of the 80s. Unlike the music of so many dime-a-dozen MTV-friendly music video pimping bands of that decade, R.E.M.'s mid 80s output will be remembered for a long time to come.

I confess, I'm not much of an R.E.M. fan these days. I don't like having to say that, but it's true. They have released excellent music since I fell off the bandwagon, but it's not for me. No doubt that is the curse of any band who doggedly insists on not repeating themselves. At some point you're going to lose the people who aren't willing to follow your muse. Maybe the word "willing" is not what I mean to say. I'm "willing" to go with them, but it's useless because the music doesn't appeal to me anymore. The last song I truly loved by R.E.M. was "New Test Leper" from the last album they recorded with Bill Berry on the drums, New Adventures in Hi-Fi. Even that was after generally losing interest, as I mentioned earlier, after they signed with major label, Warner Brothers. They got more popular, with the success of "Losing My Religion" and later "Everybody Hurts", an anthem so universal it was bound to resonate with everyone. They were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame not too long afterward. They had made it, they'd done it their way, and whether or not the old school fans wanted to admit it or not, they'd come out on the other side with dignity and integrity intact, doing what THEY wanted to do, still releasing music that draws in new fans, at least two for every one lost, it seems. So the oversight is mine, for sure.

As of yesterday, September 21, 2011, that's all history. R.E.M. has broken up and it's almost surreal to me. Even though I may never have gotten back into them again I still have a very difficult time believing that it's over. It's just a band. Yet so much more to me. Why? I don't know myself. Their music was very much a soundtrack to some good times in my life. They were down to earth and never let rock stardom turn them into assholes. I'll never forget writing to their fan club and getting a personal note from Mike Mills, who informed me that he had family here in Oklahoma. Of course this was in the early stages of their career, so they had more time to be so available to their fans. But I have always got the impression that R.E.M. have always treated their fans not only with respect but as fellow travellers on their journey.

Me? I will always consider them to be one of my favorite groups in the history of modern music. Come to think of it, maybe it was a good thing that I didn't follow them after Bill Berry's departure. There are three entire R.E.M. albums that I have never heard...I'm sure I'll come around to where they left me someday. I'll have what I might as well consider "new music" from the band. New to me. That will make it somewhat easier to deal with the fact that the three remaining members  will no longer be creating more as a unit. Though that be the case, the reality is that R.E.M.'s body of work will stand up to repeated listening for years to come. Long after the idea of "alternative music" has died, the name "R.E.M." will be remembered and their legacy will be, among other things, the proof that music can transcend labels. That it can rise above categorizations.

Mr. Berry...Mr. Buck...Mr. Mills...Mr. Stipe...God bless you. Thank you. Thank you so much and may you each be successful in whatever endeavors you choose to pursue at this point in your lives. You've touched a lot of people. Your music genuinely moved us. Your originality has amazed us. Your integrity has inspired us. You have not let us down, in the past or with this decision to call it a day. We trust you well enough to give you the benefit of the doubt and if you say the time has come, then it's for certain the time has come. But you will be missed...and it is with no small degree of sadness that I have to say...

Goodbye

Here is a list of my favorite R.E.M. songs, limited to 2 tracks per album.

Chronic Town:
Gardening at Night
Wolves, Lower

Murmur:
Sitting Still
Shaking Through

Reckoning:
Harborcoat
Pretty Persuasion

Fables of the Reconstruction:
Kahoutek
Life and How to Live It

Life's Rich Pagaent:
Hyena
These Days

Dead Letter Office:
Voice of Harold
Bandwagon

Document:
Finest Worksong
King of Birds

Green:
The Wrong Child
(hidden track)

Out of Time:
Country Feedback
Belong

Automatic for the People:
Nightswimming
Find the River

Monster:
Let Me In
What's the Frequency, Kenneth

New Adventures in Hi-Fi:
New Test Leper
Leave

I haven't listened to the "post-Berry" albums enough to have any favorites. Haven't heard the last three at all. But I do like "Imitation of Life" and "Beat a Drum" from Reveal quite a lot.

Believe me when I tell you that it wasn't easy to narrow the selections on this list down to only two per record.

If you made it down this far and would like to see the blogging I've done from 2003-2011, feel free to visit my previous blog:

Jackory's Listening Room