I think that I meet a good standard on lighting, sound, and framing of the shot on the six new videos I've posted these past two and a half weeks or so on YouTube.  I fuck up the lyrics on, "I Used Your Panties for a Cumrag," though.   I accidentally say "scumbag" instead of "cumrag" in the third verse.  Little fuckups populate these first six videos, but they all are pretty consistent in the quality of lighting, sound, and framing of the shot.  It looks like I'll have a long time to craft a masterpiece of a YouTube channel, too.  If anyone gets bent out of shape about the little mistakes in any of the first of these new videos I've posted, well, that would mean someone is watching, which hasn't happened yet.

In my apartment, I craft masterpiece comic books, walk by masterpiece paintings, perform masterpiece songs from past and future masterpiece albums, and yet, when it comes down to it, I'm just a face in the crowd.  I don't know why that is really, but it doesn't look as if success will be the thing that kills my muse.  

I'm very grateful that I've managed to get a handle on the crash-and-burn outcomes of so many of my past fixations on individual women.  If I'd never learned how to manage that aspect of my life, I would never grow as an artist or as a person.  I remember back in the eighties and nineties, when those kinds of crash-and-burn breakdowns occurred on a regular basis, how utterly lost I would feel in the aftermath of those experiences.  I would want to be anything in life but a visual artist, and I saw getting an art degree as a pretty useless pursuit.

Here we are in history at a place that I feel as if I've prepared myself for since 9/11.  Back then I realized that my girlfriends from my psychotic hallucination days probably would never show up (they still haven't), and all the money that I felt I'd won somehow as Richy Vegas would never show (it hasn't), and that I might never get recognized for what I felt I might have been (I never did).  What did I have left?  So, out went the cigarettes, and later on the booze and drugs, and I now feel as if I've come to terms with my deal with the unavailable women.  So now, all I really have to do is not get sick from something I could catch pretty easily, even if I'm careful.  Well, that last thing makes me just another face in the crowd these days as well.

An oft told tale from Robert Johnson's legend concerned his early days as a performer and an artist.   Bluesmen would roll through his neck of the woods on the circuit every so often, and Robert Johnson would play for them.  At first they would give him shit for his lack of ability in playing and all of that.  But, in successive trips, as these guys would roll through his neck of the woods, Robert Johnson would begin to impress them with how good he had become since their previous trip through.  I think about that when think about all these stoner musician friends I give my new CD's to, only to realize that a lot of them didn't even bother to listen to them.  Hell hounds on your trail boys. 

I've hit a snag in uploading Richy Vegas videos to YouTube.  I think that an infection on my computer prohibits me from importing the video from the tape to iMovie cleanly.  I bought an application that scans for that stuff (malware, adware, viruses), and this one  particular file keeps reappearing in the scans.  I've written technical support, and they said that I can expect a response in two days, but I don't know if these times make for a response that will take longer than two days.  I don't know if they can even help me.  I might have to wait to take my computer somewhere when the dust settles.  Or, just buy a new one, again, when the dust settles.  I can shoot all the videos I want, fortunately, and the new ones have the production values I desire.  I will just have to carefully catalogue the tapes so I know what I have, and when I have an opportunity to upload them, I won't have any trouble finding what I want.

My morale stays pretty good.  My dad died at the age of 91 early last Saturday morning.  He had an intestinal blockage.  His corona virus test came back negative.  So, my dad did not go before his time (boy I'll say), and his passing wasn't too bad on him or us.  HIs passing might sink in the coming days and weeks and hit me harder than it has.  A lot of things to sort out these days.  Am I right?  

I want to refrain from going apeshit with Amazon and other retail mail outlets.  I bought a Bear Family box set that collected the complete recordings from the Bristol Tennessee sessions in a five CD set.  The set came with a hardcover book that told of these sessions many call, "The Big Bang of Country Music."  Jimmy Rodgers and the Carter Family both show up in these sessions, along with many others.  Bear Family does their box sets up right, and they fetch a pretty dear price.  I will try to limit my purchases of such things to once a month for the foreseeable future.  I recently bought a Merle Haggard box set, and a really expensive out-of-print Lefty Frizzell box set that Bear Family put out in the early '90's.

For entertainment I have a Larry Sanders Show box set that I bought years ago.  I've seen most of the episodes only once, and that goes back to the '90's.  I try not to pay attention to the news after a certain time of day, and instead just entertain myself with my own music, my music library, DVD's, comic books, or books.  I try to average two completed pages a day, every day, on my own book, and so far so good on that.   I've been keeping up with housework, fortunately, and I have no trouble getting food that I want to eat at the grocery store.  Those trips will just get more anxiety-producing in the coming days and weeks, I fear, but there's only so much one can do.

 

"I'd rather be my own hero." Brett DePalma, Artist.  In the Fall of 2001, The events of 9/11 rocked everyone.  In October of that year, I saw an article in the New York Times that brought up the vulnerability that single New Yorkers felt in the aftermath of the attacks.  The article said that these New Yorkers fretted over the fact that they had not found a companion to help them through these times, and that they might "die alone," to quote a common phrase.  Around October 20th or 22nd, I probably thought about whether I wanted to buy some beers and have a night of it in my efficiency apartment.  That kind of thing represented a normal activity for me in those days.

I decided against buying my usual six pack, plus a quart of Carta Blanca, and decided to tough at least one night out with no booze.  At loose ends, I thought about that Times article, and a revelation came to me that I used alcohol, drugs, and cigarettes to help me cope with loneliness.  I started cleaning up my apartment, and soon enough, I knew that I had stumbled onto something.

I decided to abstain from drugs (weed) and alcohol on those nights when I found myself by myself in my apartment.  I found that I could totally do this.  The insight I had about why I used under such a circumstance really helped me abstain under that same circumstance.  I did this abstinence-on-nights-alone thing all into November, and I soon possessed enough confidence to make another stab at quitting my two-pack-a-day cigarette habit.  I rejoined a support group I'd previously checked out after the American Lung Association told me where they met.  I picked December 1st, 2001 as my quit date, bought some patches, got some gum, and started a year-long effort to stay off of cigarettes.  I relapsed many, many times in 2002, kept going to meetings, got on Zyban, and I've not smoked as of December 1st, 2002.

My big push to abstain from drugs and alcohol began in late 2008.  Whatever progress I'd gained in 2001 from my efforts to not drink and smoke dope alone lay years on the past by that time, and I realized that moderation could not do it for me.  My therapist, a guy trained in counseling people with substance abuse issues, proved a major catalyst in helping me come to my decision to commit to abstinence in the first place.  In the years that followed, I found a support group for people with both a mental illness diagnosis and substance abuse issues whenever I found myself needing that kind of help (I haven't had a therapist in years and years).

So, my efforts to find more constructive ways to deal with my loneliness hold strong to this day.  I could not have taken care of my dad in his home for all those years following my decisions to quit those activities if I had never been able to shake those habits.  My dad wound up falling in the bathroom, downstairs from me, in August of 2019, at about 8:15 AM.  He'd collapsed on his walker, and his sensor on his emergency call button failed to register an impact that would have alerted the EMS.  I heard him call me from his position over the bathtub as I tried to sleep upstairs. I wondered, "Oh god, what is it this time?" and came downstairs to find him that way.  I had been out to breakfast that morning, and had coffee at a coffee shop, but I'd made it home in time to be there when he tried to go to the bathroom and fell.  He's been in assisted living ever since.  

I was so glad I was not out on some drug and alcohol binge that would have kept me away from the house that morning when he needed me, but, like I said, I couldn't have performed that job all those years prior if I'd been using that whole time anyway.  My efforts to take better care of myself all those years ago prepared me for that moment.

I think about all of that stuff now that we all have this major event going on in the world.  I've been preparing for nineteen years for this time without even realizing that my efforts to take better care of myself amounted to such preparation.  And, this is all ME, Richard Alexander.  Anyone who reads my latest series of books, "The Legend of Richy Vegas," knows that the central conceit of that story lies in the notion that I have undiagnosed Dissociative Identity Disorder and Dissociative Amnesia Disorder.  That other part of myself that I, Richard Alexander, only experience through what a large percentage of people in the medical community would label hallucinations (not "recovered memories," as my conceit in those stories would have it); that supposed other side of myself has nothing to do with these efforts I initiated to take better care of myself starting in the Fall of 2001.

My reason for committing to abstinence from drugs and alcohol in the first place comes from a desire to improve my relationship with women.  That has proven a tough slog without a lot of "success" to show for it.  Then again, define success; I feel as if I've fought mightily against the efforts of emotionally abusive, controlling women to treat me shabbily, and I've enjoyed success after success in showing them the door.  Again, that's all me, Richard Alexander, not Richy Vegas.  The importance of that distinction resides in the notion that I can plug into the successes of Richard Alexander and expand upon them in these times, rather that pray for some miracle where Richy Vegas would appear and catch serial killers or thwart rapists or some such.  

There's a YouTube link on this site where the folks out there can see my videos.  I posted FOUR new videos in the past two days.  For some reason I have a lot of time to do that kind of thing now.  My studio has all I need to shoot videos, I worked all of the bugs out of the computer editing and posting of said videos, and the RichyVegas64 channel on YouTube officially hangs a shingle out on this blog. OPEN, OPEN, OPEN, for business.  Think of it.  Songs of woman hate, and, I promise, I will post what few songs of woman love I've managed to write and perform.  Songs about shrimp.  Songs about Fuckface.  Think of it.  Your one stop for all the entertainment you will need for an appreciable length of time:  www.richyvegas.com    

Regardless of how things shake out in regards to any woman I may approach for social reasons in the coming weeks and months, I don't want to go back to any deals from the past year or so.  A couple of weeks ago I wrote that I still didn't know whether a particular party that managed to preoccupy me this past year or so even liked me.  I insinuated that the very question of whether this person even liked me, after all this time, constituted sufficient reason for me to end the whole deal.  I still feel that way, and I will feel that way whether or not I manage to connect with another woman in any meaningful way in the foreseeable future.  A few weeks ago, I felt as if myself and this person who has so taken up space in my head from time to time this past year had come to a crossroads, and  that the crossroads we found ourselves at presented an opportunity for me to go my way, and to let her go her way.

A friend of mine from Austin Clubhouse ran into me as I sat at my table at Lone Star Zine Fest yesterday.  I hadn't seen her in a long time, and she wound up telling me that she had a performance tonight at a club at 7:00.  I got caught up in the enthusiasm of seeing her, and I said that I wasn't doing anything tonight, and I promised I'd come.  Afterwards, I remembered that my new Judo class meets on Monday evenings.  I went to see my friend play.  I can probably make most Judo classes on Monday and Wednesday nights, but not all of them all of the time.  I'll play it by ear.  My friend played a solo cello performance that utilized a cool Orange amp she'd rented and a reverb pedal.  The cello had a pickup on it for the amp.   She said that tonight represented her first club gig.  A lot of her friends turned out to see her.  She's really nice.

I took a Judo class for the first time in a long time this evening.  I will definitely feel this tomorrow.  The teacher is twenty years older than me, and the class is geared towards older folks.  I took a class in Judo in 2003, but it was geared more towards the Brazilian Ju-jitsu style.  Brazilian Ju-jitsu is actually Judo that just emphasizes grappling and mat-work.  That didn't take, a big reason being that my rock-and-roll lifestyle still held sway over me, and I just didn't have the energy to do it.  I also preferred to take the more traditional, Olympic style of Judo, but I didn't have a car, and I had to ride the bus to that class I took a few times.  That's why I told the instructor this evening that I hadn't taken Judo since 1990.

The new book, issue number 20, just zips along.  I want to take time to do other things such as practice music and read and whatnot, so I'm kind of trying to take it easy on the book workload now.  I have Lone Star Zine Fest next Sunday.  I will bring about forty books, and I hope to sell like twenty or so.  I'm going to look to see if any out of town events take applications now.

So, does this or that person really like me or not?  You know, that kind of a question is grounds for people getting divorced after ten, twenty, even thirty years of marriage.  One spouse just asks themselves of the other, "Does this person even like me?"  Imagine how I feel. 

I've talked often about a woman I went on one date with some years ago.  She said something to me, twice, that helped kill our deal. The first time she said it, she said it to me over the phone before our scheduled time together.  She said, "I don't compete for men."  I could hear the smirk in her voice when she said it.  The second time she said it, again, she said, "I don't compete for men," on our actual one and only date, and sure enough, she had a big, fat smirk on her face when she said it.  That kind of attitude became a good reason why we had only that one date.  She also had a drug problem, no job, and an attitude that her ability to ingratiate herself to someone such as me could provide her with a ticket to the free and easy life.  Again, we had only one date, and no, I did not have sex with her when a big-as-life opportunity came from her on that one date.

And, I might add, that one time I mention above does not constitute the only time I've made a decision like that about someone I've caught that kind of attitude from.  I can think of several instances where attractive women out and out squandered ample opportunities to get to know me better, with ample time to take advantage of those opportunities, only to try at some later date to give me the idea that it was all about me jumping through their hoops.  Why, if Ms. Ariana Grande herself were to find herself on my personal love docket, and she gave me that kind of attitude, she'd be out on her ass before you could say Jack Robinson.

When that woman from several years ago said to me, flat out, that she doesn't compete for men, and I recoiled at that and her whole messed up life-act, I could point to this one, very apt...point:  That she was competing with the life that I had built up as a single person living for long periods of time with no discernible interest from any women, anywhere.  I've quit smoking cigarettes, quit drinking, and quit drugs.  All of those changes I've made to help improve my life to the point where some asshole can't just come along and act like they own the whole deal between us.  That woman with that attitude did not offer viable competition to the life I have built up as a person by myself, and I fucking rejected her.

And, I might add, my successful efforts to quit cigarettes, drugs, and alcohol allowed me to address the very issues of love addiction that caused so many problems between myself and the women around me in years past.  I've worked very, very hard at that issue.  One main issue of my love addiction consists of the false belief that I could not find happiness if I was not at least actively searching and courting someone I assigned the role of love interest to from amongst the women in my world.  Which brings me back to my point: Anybody, anybody, in my world who wants to vie for love interest status with me will find themselves competing with the life I have now as a single person who is happy being single.  That goes for those women who might have something of a genuine interest in getting to know me better, as well as those more predatory women who vie for my attentions under false pretenses.  Don't believe me?  Try me.

I've got something of an audience, I believe.  I believe that I can express myself in ways to people that other people can't, because they may feel that not as many people pay attention to what they say or do online or in life.  So I'm lucky in that regard, I guess.  But, I'm not a mind reader.  If someone I was very fond of in a romantic way were a member of my audience, and I didn't have the access to their various forms of self-expression that they have in regards to me, I hope that such a person would forgive me if I didn't pick up on stuff they feel I should pick up on.  Again, I emphasize, I'm not a mind reader.  Right now I feel as if I'm trying to see a person on the other side of a two-way mirror when I can only see my own reflection, while they can see me and know that my heart and my mind turn to them often.  That's a hard position to occupy.   That's a hard position to feel comfortable occupying.  

I'll have to play this song out and about to see if it works or not.  The arrangement might be a little too fancy pants....

I Never Was Her Guy

First part of verse: A, D, E, A   Second part of verse, and chorus:D,C,G,E
Strumming pattern:Bv^Bv                               Strumming pattern: Bv^Bv^ 
Bridge:G7, C7, D7, G7                                     last chorus: E, D, A, F#
Strumming pattern:Bv^Bv^ 

Verse: 
            A
Oh I go on and on about her
              E
day and night, day and night
             D
on the internet about her
                A
day and night, day and night

    A
It ain’t so much to get her
        E
no it ain’t so much to have her
         D
I just wanna do what’s right
              A
what is right, what is right

Verse:
           D
Oh I show up where she is
                   C
she’s right there, then she ain’t
                    G
it’s clear to me
                                        E 
she’s got better things to do

            D
Oh I’ll never dent her conscience
           C
no I’ll never get a break
                      G
she’s always gone
                                      E
and I’d better get there too

Chorus:
             D
Oh my love is like a freight train 
           C
going ninety miles an hour
                   G
away from me
                                                  E
down some lonesome railroad track

           D
Oh I’ll never learn to catch her
                C 
‘cause I never was her guy
                   G
a hundred miles
                                                   E 
down some lonesome railroad track

                     D
She ain’t no 727
           C
at an airport or a car
           G
I can hire
                                           E
to drive me all the way to town

               D
She’s a chuggin‘ diesel engine
           C
goin‘ ninety miles and hour
                  G
away from me
                                                  E
down some lonesome railroad track


Verse: 
            A
Oh I go on and on about her
              E
day and night, day and night
             D
on the internet about her
                A
day and night, day and night

    A
It ain’t so much to get her
        E
no it ain’t so much to have her
         D
I just wanna do what’s right
              A
what is right, what is right


Verse:
           D
Well I never was her guy
                   C
and I isn’t her guy now
                    G
it’s clear to me
                                        E 
she’s got better things to do

            D
Oh I never was her guy
           C
and I isn’t her guy now
                      G
she’s always gone
                                      E
and I’d better get there too


Bridge: 
 G7
Frustrations got a number
                C7
and that lovely gal’s got mine
               D7
guess I’ll mosey my way
                          G7
out of this here mess

 G7
I know exactly what she’s playin’
         C7
I’m a bad man, yeah I’m sayin’
               D7
I’ll think more of her then less
                      G7
that’s for the best

             E
Oh that gal is like a freight train
           D 
going ninety miles an hour
                  A
away from me
                                                 F#
down some lonesome railroad track

           E
Oh I’ll never learn to catch her
              D 
‘cause I never was her guy
                  A
a hundred miles
                                                  F# 
down some lonesome railroad track


                     E
She ain’t no 727
           D
at an airport or a car
         A
I can hire
                                          F#
to drive me all the way to town

               E
She’s a chuggin‘ diesel engine
          D
goin‘ ninety miles and hour
                A
away from me
              v      D     v                   v E
down some lonesome railroad track

Richy Vegas 2/17/2020