I THOUGHT I HAD TO LIVE REMOTELY IN ISOLATION OR AT LEAST INSULATED TO PRACTICE MUSIC. I SHOULD HAVE STAYED IN THE HEART OF THE CITY TO PRACTICE MY ARTS BUT I DID NOT HAVE ENOUGH MONEY TO LIVE THERE AFTER MY MOTOR VEHICLE INJURY. IT IS QUIET IN THE BUSH, TOO QUIET, I AM HERE ALONE.
I was not the first artist or musician or writer to leave the city for a rural life.
I was not the first to attempt the patrician life style with a rural acreage and a crib in the City.
Live Rock Critic is not only about Music this time. LRC is about getting out into strange places to meet strange people doing strange things- experiencing strange sounds and sights and thoughts.
There is not a lot more to say about the ordinary, it was touted and portrayed and adulated when it came along and whatever it is was new, now it is part of the ordinary. Like Streamline Cars going effortlessly by at a hundred miles an hour, seamless, shining, cutting the wind, Whoosh!
The City of Vancouver was loud and the din went on and on. And loud Electric Music seared and crackled and roared and thundered and pealed the whirling tones of the Organ's Leslies. My Screaming Harmonicas and Roaring Trains and thundering Motorcycles were a part of Tthe City of Vancouver. I was a part of the City plying my trades at my Jewellery Factory.
Just outside Town in Delta musicians from the City would attend the ``Space Jam `` on a lot of Sundays. I had lay there paralyzed or virtually paralyzed for many a year, not all day every day, but when I look back, I did a lot of reclining with my legs over a table, churlish perhaps, but it was that or lay down for most of 1970 to 1974. My Partner and me built a Jewellery Factory in the Heart of the City of Vancouver and he began to gamble and philander and his wife philandered.
Everything blew up and there were tears and I was accused of `Having Evil Inside Knowledge`` which I did not share. I, innocent and unknowing as always, sigh, I Cast Silver and Gold and Platinum into Rings and Pendants and Jewelled Asylum Racers. Very Vancouver with my Precious Metal Hookas and ``Certainly, Sir, we can make you anything you wish to imagine`. I gave it up to build a House for the Family at Otter Pointand the Hissing and Hatred without end began.
I tried to keep up a presence in Vancouver but I unfortunately had to buy a home which was new and unfinished and I began my years of mostly alone working on the Family Home Alone. In a Surfit of Tranfered Hatred I was living in the house of the former owner and they hated me.The house had been stripped and trashed earlier and was robbed while I owned it and then BURNT UP.
My Criminal Psychopath Wife took over the new home construction, letting the Contract with a man (Grown as a Tequila Worm!) who superintender the deforestastion of borders or trees, the excavation of a hole to put the house in and the theft of all of the meadow`s topsoil.
Then I was ``taken down``, all my assets were lost as Stronger FASTER SMARTER WIFE took over with her ``Major Business`` borrowing until I was hollowed out to nothing left of assets.
Ì hate you, I hate all men..sign over your assets or I will say you abused me and the children
I THOUGHT I HAD TO LIVE REMOTELY IN ISOLATION OR AT LEAST INSULATED TO PRACTICE MUSIC. I SHOULD HAVE STAYED IN THE HEART OF THE CITY TO PRACTICE MY ARTS BUT I DID NOT HAVE ENOUGH MONEY TO LIVE THERE AFTER MY MOTOR VEHICLE INJURY. IT IS QUIET IN THE BUSH, TOO QUIET, I AM HERE ALONE.












Many similarities triggered a combined response happening now. Mostly I am experiencing memories of how I was not Mother`s favorite,not not not.
I feel disconnected, floating, feeling that powerless feeling with a quality of impending doom and I can not do a thing about what was done.
My head is floating and my body slumping as I keep experiencing movies of the past Mother beating and demanding and oh so smugly and Narcissistically not listening as I make my case the same as my son`s Girlfriend did during the blogged above experience. Same hectoring,`all you do is...` and the same heaping on of credibility to my ex-wife, a manipulating liar who did not work nor tell the truth. THEN THE SAME AS WAS SAID ABOUT MY TERRIBLE MOTHER, that my ex-wife was so nice. My ex-wife who wanted me on the Street or in jail and `Target his music` Damn have I ever felt vacant and paralysed and been unable to stand since then. I sadly remember one negative intervention after another as I sit here alone with nothing pleasant to do as I have for years and years. The con artist voice and sentiment of phony acceptance by monstrous manipulators echoes through my mind on occasion after occasion where faux solicitousness and hypocritical sentiment literally nauseated me.