Me and Jerry and regaining control
You always seem so under control Edge, has that always been the case?
Oh my no.
Well, when was the last time you were not in control of your actions and emotions?
Well, it was the summer of 1995. Ten years ago this month. Actually it was an out of control year but the apex of the wild spinning and coming undone was almost exactly ten years ago.
Was it a chemical inbalance, a planetary misalignment perhaps?
No, it was wrought by divorce, as is so often the case with spinning out of control. X2 was big on punishment and maximizing the pain. 1995 was year two of the pain. Amazing how long these kind of proceedings can be drawn out when an attorney realizes they've latched onto a cash cow. I was more of a cash calf. An underweight wobbly might not survive the night cash calf. I think she (um...her backer) spent about 25 grand to my 5, guess who won?
Anyway, I'm a good person to divorce because I'll play right into your hands and give you all the ammunition you need to really wack me down. I'll get pissed at all the bullshit and the appraisal of my childhood baseball card collection and my mother's heirlooms and I'll leave angry messages on your answering machine so you can record them and play them in court and since it was OJ trial time you can show me as a perceived threat, hey ya never know, let's have him psychoanalyzed (you can imagine how that came out).
And just when it couldn't have gotten much worse, just when it was so close to my last cigarette and the execution, just then.....I really unraveled.
And it was because Jerry Garcia died, ten years ago this month.
Rewind. Early July 1995. Omni Hotel, Indianapolis. The night before Grateful Dead show one of two at Deer Creek, one of the best venues for music in the country. Jerry has this display of some of his art going on at the Omni and my current tie dyed squeeze and I, being patrons of the arts, and most likely stoned, were moseying about toward closing time when lo and behold, here comes ole Jer himself, and given that he was probably stoned too, we conversed, me and Jerry. For quite awhile we went on. It was so cool, I asked about the San Francisco scene in the late sixties, about lots of stuff. We just talked, me and one of the most influential Rock and Roll icons over the past 30 years, we shot the shit, Me and Jer.
The next night, me and my girl, twirling and weaving and bobbing and boogieing on down and it was special cause me and Jerry were tight now you see. Our lives had paralleled and we had a chance to talk it over, roll it around and grin at it. But this was the night that hundreds of gooffuckingballs broke down the fence and crashed the show and that got national attention and fuck, show two the next night was cancelled, I still have the ticket, and I had seen Jerry and the boys for the last time together because a month later he was dead, ten years ago this week.
I've yet to mention that X2 by this time had taken up with this swishy fuck who she had hired as a business partner, although there was no doubt about who was in charge, and I may have left a message or two expressing concern about this puke (who in fact came out a few months later thank you very much) being around my young son. Yeah, that helped. It didn't help that my very cool basement with big screen TV, bar, pool table, man it was cool down there, had been stripped and turned into an office where these two spent their days together. No, that did not help.
Tie it together Edge, you always do this, make people all dizzy and confused.
K. The last GD show was in Chicago in August, early August, after which Jerry checked himself into a rehab retreat in the bay area, north of SF, and died in his sleep with a smile on his face.
I took it pretty hard. I mean I didn't fall apart or anything, but it was a significant event for me and certainly was pause for reflection about my own life.
Fast forward a couple of days to me standing at the door of ex house to pick up my son and swish puke fuck answers the door.........grrrrrr, I think my fist was already balled just out of principle and the scrawny lilt voiced little fuck (I no longer harbor a grudge as you can see) pops off with some comment like who are all you hippies gonna worship now and grinned swishily and I, from zero to nose, clocked him. A nose will explode like a tomato, I know that now.
On the way home from jail the next morning I remember being as disgusted with myself as I had ever been up to that point in my life, and actually as I have been since. I took my hit, paid off the rest of the divorce, paid for rebuilding his nose, rubbed my knuckles, kissed em once and moved on.
Not that I haven't had some setbacks since, I have, but nothing remotely resembling that summer of lost control.
I've been thinking about me and Jerry this week and listenting to some tunes and reflecting on how I'm in a much better place now and how you have to learn it all on your own, nothing anybody says will do it, you gotta do it yourself, whether it's leave or stay or keep on doing what you're doing and getting the same results or changing or just losing it completely. It's a choice. If you tell yourself you have no choice you're taking the easy way out. I know, but....but....but. I know the but's and I've kicked butt and had my butt kicked and you'll be 56 years old sooner than you know so trust me, you have choices and you choose the path and someone might knock you off of it or knock you down but it's still your path to choose and there but for the grace of something, I don't know what, go I.
Wasn't Jerry was it, was Led Zep who said, "there's still time to change the road you're on".
Which brings me to......how the fuck you get a bustle in your hedgerow? And how do you get it out? Or is it best to just leave it there? I think it would alarm me.
RIP Jerry
Oh my no.
Well, when was the last time you were not in control of your actions and emotions?
Well, it was the summer of 1995. Ten years ago this month. Actually it was an out of control year but the apex of the wild spinning and coming undone was almost exactly ten years ago.
Was it a chemical inbalance, a planetary misalignment perhaps?
No, it was wrought by divorce, as is so often the case with spinning out of control. X2 was big on punishment and maximizing the pain. 1995 was year two of the pain. Amazing how long these kind of proceedings can be drawn out when an attorney realizes they've latched onto a cash cow. I was more of a cash calf. An underweight wobbly might not survive the night cash calf. I think she (um...her backer) spent about 25 grand to my 5, guess who won?
Anyway, I'm a good person to divorce because I'll play right into your hands and give you all the ammunition you need to really wack me down. I'll get pissed at all the bullshit and the appraisal of my childhood baseball card collection and my mother's heirlooms and I'll leave angry messages on your answering machine so you can record them and play them in court and since it was OJ trial time you can show me as a perceived threat, hey ya never know, let's have him psychoanalyzed (you can imagine how that came out).
And just when it couldn't have gotten much worse, just when it was so close to my last cigarette and the execution, just then.....I really unraveled.
And it was because Jerry Garcia died, ten years ago this month.
Rewind. Early July 1995. Omni Hotel, Indianapolis. The night before Grateful Dead show one of two at Deer Creek, one of the best venues for music in the country. Jerry has this display of some of his art going on at the Omni and my current tie dyed squeeze and I, being patrons of the arts, and most likely stoned, were moseying about toward closing time when lo and behold, here comes ole Jer himself, and given that he was probably stoned too, we conversed, me and Jerry. For quite awhile we went on. It was so cool, I asked about the San Francisco scene in the late sixties, about lots of stuff. We just talked, me and one of the most influential Rock and Roll icons over the past 30 years, we shot the shit, Me and Jer.
The next night, me and my girl, twirling and weaving and bobbing and boogieing on down and it was special cause me and Jerry were tight now you see. Our lives had paralleled and we had a chance to talk it over, roll it around and grin at it. But this was the night that hundreds of gooffuckingballs broke down the fence and crashed the show and that got national attention and fuck, show two the next night was cancelled, I still have the ticket, and I had seen Jerry and the boys for the last time together because a month later he was dead, ten years ago this week.
I've yet to mention that X2 by this time had taken up with this swishy fuck who she had hired as a business partner, although there was no doubt about who was in charge, and I may have left a message or two expressing concern about this puke (who in fact came out a few months later thank you very much) being around my young son. Yeah, that helped. It didn't help that my very cool basement with big screen TV, bar, pool table, man it was cool down there, had been stripped and turned into an office where these two spent their days together. No, that did not help.
Tie it together Edge, you always do this, make people all dizzy and confused.
K. The last GD show was in Chicago in August, early August, after which Jerry checked himself into a rehab retreat in the bay area, north of SF, and died in his sleep with a smile on his face.
I took it pretty hard. I mean I didn't fall apart or anything, but it was a significant event for me and certainly was pause for reflection about my own life.
Fast forward a couple of days to me standing at the door of ex house to pick up my son and swish puke fuck answers the door.........grrrrrr, I think my fist was already balled just out of principle and the scrawny lilt voiced little fuck (I no longer harbor a grudge as you can see) pops off with some comment like who are all you hippies gonna worship now and grinned swishily and I, from zero to nose, clocked him. A nose will explode like a tomato, I know that now.
On the way home from jail the next morning I remember being as disgusted with myself as I had ever been up to that point in my life, and actually as I have been since. I took my hit, paid off the rest of the divorce, paid for rebuilding his nose, rubbed my knuckles, kissed em once and moved on.
Not that I haven't had some setbacks since, I have, but nothing remotely resembling that summer of lost control.
I've been thinking about me and Jerry this week and listenting to some tunes and reflecting on how I'm in a much better place now and how you have to learn it all on your own, nothing anybody says will do it, you gotta do it yourself, whether it's leave or stay or keep on doing what you're doing and getting the same results or changing or just losing it completely. It's a choice. If you tell yourself you have no choice you're taking the easy way out. I know, but....but....but. I know the but's and I've kicked butt and had my butt kicked and you'll be 56 years old sooner than you know so trust me, you have choices and you choose the path and someone might knock you off of it or knock you down but it's still your path to choose and there but for the grace of something, I don't know what, go I.
Wasn't Jerry was it, was Led Zep who said, "there's still time to change the road you're on".
Which brings me to......how the fuck you get a bustle in your hedgerow? And how do you get it out? Or is it best to just leave it there? I think it would alarm me.
RIP Jerry
posted by Edge | 9:26 AM
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