Posts tagged “forgetting

Up jumped the Devil

“The blues, is a low-down achin’ heart disease
Like consumption, killing me by degrees”

– Robert Johnson –

Johnson sang that in his song Preachin’ Blues (Up Jumped The Devil). And brother I do believe he was singing about me. How a poor black man in the Mississippi delta back in 1936 could have done this? Well I suppose we both done went down to the crossroads and made our deal. And the Devil has his price you got to pay.

You know the blues when you got them. It ain’t just a cloudy day or a bit of disappointment. It’s a low feeling that creeps in on you and makes itself at home, wrapping its cold fingers around your heart. Taking whatever it pleases and laughing at you when you try to fight it off. It wins…It always wins. My blues will win. Maybe sooner rather than later. Who knows. I just know I am hanging in between living and the other thing. That’s the blues man, it don’t shake down and go away. It is a life.

Lately I have been thinking on God, the nature of man and the weapons we build when we sleep just inches away. I want to believe in God, I do man. I have seen miracles and had hope wash in on a black place. But that was long ago. God seems to have moved on. Maybe like Job he laid a 20 to 1 odds on my ass and the other fellow won. And if anyone has his price to exact it’s God…Think of the Sopranos but with stained glass windows and chants.

As for man. Well here’s the dice as they fell. You’re mostly fucked…No it’s okay. You are. That’s just it. Most of you are discouraging and frightening. I find you baffling and questionable. I like you sometimes too, that’s the scary part. Like petting a tiger. It’s soft and the sensation is wonderful, but you just never know when it’ll turn. And you know them teeth and them claws will gut you sure as shooting.

And then there’s those things, the things we do to each other. Things in the name of love, heartbreak, justice, lust and Sunday mornings. How we cut into ourselves. Ol’ van Gogh was just more literal than most. But I’ve cut out pieces of me and dropped them in butcher paper to give as an offering to someone I wanted to see me bleed. A bloody mess left in the lap of one quite incredulous. Only to find out later that the choice cuts were to be made against my will. It all sounds like burnt offerings and the smell of sex left hanging in a room, the bedding in a heap on the floor and a strange look of astonishment on our faces. Ah beauty, it’s hideous and grotesque!

So there I stand. Fucking empty. A broken vase. Really, that’s a great description. A vase serves no purpose really, except to hold something. Flowers or sins, you see. And when you break one, there’s no reason to keep it around. At least that’s how I feel. So I continue to linger, feeling like a ghost. No one sees me till I make my presence known. And them that seek me out tend to do so out of fascination or mortification. Some experience to relate later around your kin and kind. About the time he did this thing you won’t believe.

Spending my hours alone, trying to commit myself to life. To stay put, to stick to some material thing because that’s what’s expected. But constantly wanting to be free. To fly away, to know what it’s like to feel the absence of chains, grief and the burden of languages.

Someone tell me it’s going to be alright…I dare you!

Hey you…out there on your own…

Be well.


The court jester up in arms.

“I’ll bring you precious contraband
And ancient tales from distant lands
Of conquerors and concubines and
Conjurers from darker times
Betrayal and conspiracy
Sacrilege and heresy

I got every thing you wont or need
Your darkest fear, your fondest dream
I ask you questions, tell you lies
Criticize and sympathize
Be careful what you wish for friend
Because I’ve been to hell and now I’m back again”

– Steve Earle –

Well ol’ hoss. This’ll be one of them stream of consciousness entries. I got no plan but a general idea for what I want to say.

First off. Goddamn the whole idea of faith, religion and dogma. I have come to see if I am to find my way to God it won’t be in any church. And it won’t be talking to some of the most intolerant people I have ever met. Let me qualify that by saying I have met some incredibly good and decent folk. But see here folks. I have never been wired to blind faith. And it seems to me religion and church is not open to questions. They say they do, they entertain the give and take. But in the end either you buy the boat they’re selling or you drown. Accept it or you are lacking (hey do me a favor and don’t email me or message me saying it’s just me. It ain’t. That’s a cop out).

My old man was one smart motherfucker, tough and hard. He broke me down hard but he built me up too. And he taught me, you never ever just accept what you are told at face value. And if a glad handing and big smiling man tries to sell you anything, then question it.

I questioned and have been told I am wrong for just not accepting. I have been told the holy version of “Because I said so”.

So I’m stepping away. It’s well enough. I’m better on my own two feet.

See when I sat in a hotel room with a crazy son of a bitch who had been doing intravenous cocaine for 12 days straight and he chambered a shell in the sawed off shotgun across his lap. It wasn’t God that played it right and got me out of there.It was me and the shit I learned on the street. It was my father’s good words and a swift right hand.

And when I can’t fucking go on, the weight of the bullshit and the politics of loneliness and loss are pushing me to try to figure out a reason to live. It ain’t Jesus or an angel (man I hate It’s a Wonderful Life) that is talking me from jumping. And man I have literally stood on a bridge rail. It was my own decision to step back and fucking hurt more and to go another long night.

When I have struggled and fought for every breath and step and I had some bad juju comn’ down on me. There was no God there. I’d like to shove a copy of Footprints up a few asses…Violently. I wasn’t carried man, I didn’t make it thanks to a miracle. I crawled through the fire on burned bloody knees.

But I will get told this again and again or I will get told again and again of some divine wisdom that I can’t comprehend.

Well it ain’t good enough for me.

No sir.
I fuck, fight then turn out the light on my own call. I live like I please or die trying.It’s me paying the price or reaping the reward. So I think I should have a say in how the play goes down.

I want to love like a madman, push back when I hit the wall and I want to fight to keep from falling. To hell with this waiting on some big ol’ Boss in the sky.

If I am wrong, oh well. It’s my gig. You don’t need to worry on nothing I do.

But if you want to come along. Then have at.

It’s a crazy ride.

“I told the priest, don’t count on any second coming.
God got his ass kicked the first time he came down here slumming.
He had the balls to come, the gall to die and then forgive us.
No, I don’t wonder why, I wonder what he thought it would get us.

Hey, hey, good bye.”

– Andy Prieboy –

Be well