Author: Johnnyboy

I’ve been thinking recently, which is not always the best idea in my case. I can get extremely lost in those thoughts and start to envision a reality where I am actually speaking out on current issues in public and whatnot. Does this make sense? My friend Lisa refers to this as “talking to the voices in her head” and she’s right. It’s as if I’m having conversations with people that we all know and love (politicians, rockstars, all those folks) and telling them how it should be in my oh-so-perfect world. They are all humbly nodding their heads and saying things like, “Yes, you’re right” and “Wow, I never thought of it that way”. I know this all sounds sycophantic, grandiose, and somewhat delusional, but there it is. Obviously, I do not voice these “conversations” out loud, and actually this is the first time that I’ve ever told anyone about them…But that’s not what today’s blog was supposed to be about…
I woke up this morning to a common sound around these parts–a mowing machine making it’s rounds through a field. In this case the field just behind my house and outside my bedroom window. I had left my window open last night so along with the rural sound of machinery came the fresh smell of new mown hay and birdsong. All of this was too idyllic for me to take, so my mind began to think of way back, when this county was all farms. Farms full of cows, corn, and apples. A pleasant combination I think. Very wholesome. Some of these farms had been in their respective families for generations, going back to the tenant farmers that worked for the Livingstons, the wealthy landowners that owned much of eastern New York. I used to ride along with my folks along the smaller county roads and there would be nothing but the smell of manure, docile bovines, and apple orchards. Somewhere along the line this changed. You can chart the political changes, but that’s an obvious and boring tack. I’ d like to think that MTV has ruined the family farm and caused the farmers to sell the land. No one wants to get dirty anymore. They just want to get jiggy, have the bling-bling, ching-ching, and not pay. Meanwhile, the prime real estate is snapped up by wealthy horse breeders and that’s what you see these days along County Route 9. Even the locals can’t afford to live here anymore.
I have no idea what the above was about, but it felt good expressing my morning dialectic: MTV is evil, the love of money is the root of all evil, and I do not want bling-bling, ching-ching, or to get jiggy. Just give me a little peace!

Nice to be here today. I am so very lucky for all the life I’ve been given so far, and so much more to come as well. I can still fall back into the old fear based lifestyle of constant ego-feeding terror. When I do this, all I need to remember is my brief time spent in jail and the poor souls I encountered while I was inmate #1229. I really had it all, then. I had (and still have) a family that loved and supported me, visited me, sent me books, mail, etc…My program of recovery was very strong, which gave me another huge asset–sobriety of thought and deed, I was able to receive visits from my shrink every Tuesday, and I was never without the creature comforts that money could buy. I was rich beyond my wildest dreams. On the other hand, there were guys in there who had nothing, and I mean nothing. No family, no God, no faith, no hope, and nothing to lean on and grow with when they were released. BTW, this was a local county facility, so the max you could stay was 2 1/2 years. The anger and shame that rolled around the jail was immense. So many souls in pain (me included) and unable to reach out for help. The excuses for this are pretty common in the world, pride being first and foremost on the list.
But, after 19 months I was released back into the community and into the loving arms of my family and friends. It has been 10 months since that day and I would like to pretend that it is all better, that I’m fixed, that I can put it all behind me now, but it’s not that simple. I still feel the watchful eyes of the guards, the suspicious attitudes of other inmates. I want to go back to my cell, listen to my little radio through the headphones, and let the world go away. I want to write away in my journal, catch up on my reading and generally avoid the outside world for a few hours. I want to isolate.
I guess, in some ways I am doing that right now. I kept a journal in jail (1800 pages) and it is all pretty self-centered stuff. I wrote a lot of haiku, though, so maybe I’ll publish some of those on the blog someday. So this blog is my journal of ramblings and fears, hopes and stumbling blocks that become stepping stones into my future, whatever that may be. I must understand that my past has cast me the way metal is poured into a mold, and cracked open. Jail galvanized me to a degree, and now I am shaping that metal with sometimes painful blows to my own ego, cutting away the old fears, revealing new hopes, and trying not to get in my own way.

Lots of work left to do…