Category: #RandomThunk

Boulder, CO. Where the Hip Meet to Trip.

jamie

That was title of the 1979 Time Magazine article about Boulder Colorado. Naturally, I decided to go to college there. Mostly to get as far away from home and my Goldwater Republican parents as possible. I stayed in Boulder over the summers, to avoid conflicts. It was a different city when the college wasn’t in session. I think we met Morris the first or second summer.

They called it Guyana Punch, and the Guyana Parties at Morris’s place on The Hill were legendary.
Everyone brought a bottle. Liquor, any kind was acceptable. Everclear, 151 rum and vodka were the foundation. Water, KoolAid and assorted juices and fruits were added, and the party was off and running.
Somewhere during the evening, sheets, tabs, and assorted microdots always found their way into the punch, and everything got colorful and weird.

Music. Usually Grateful Dead tapes from some show someplace that was “the best trip ever”. Great times. Great people. Great music always makes the scene.

When the punch eventually ran dry, and all the places to buy real beer were long closed, literally hundreds of people tripping their balls off wandered off into the Boulder night on their own psychedelic adventures.
I remember one night after Morris’, we ended up smoking weed with these girls at this witches coven house down the street. At least I thought they were witches.

At some point, my buddy Adam turned into The Devil during the Stones Sympathy, and I wandered off, caught up in one of those trips, where facing one’s own fears turns into battles with demons and dragons. My roommates spent hours looking for me. I spent hours looking for me, too. Eventually I wandered home I guess, because I woke up there the next afternoon. Nobody remembered and dragons or witches but me.

All things must end. Eventually, the Guyana Parties did too. Morris, the Cat who threw the parties (and probably always dosed the punch) moved on to who knows where. Times changed. We grew up.

The Boulder scene changed a lot when the cocaine started rolling into town. Coke and acid really don’t mix. It changed the party. The whole scene, and not for the better.
You don’t threaten to kill people to get more acid or mushrooms, but with meth and coke, lots of liquor…you never know.

Things melted down. People ended up in jail. Everyone was a narc. Nobody could be trusted. Eventually, I was glad to be out of the hip-meet-to-trip delusion. Every trip ends, I guess. Everyone I knew got out alive, so I figure it’s a win.

I’ve stumbled into a lot of crazy party scenes since, and sooner or later the mood always gets heavy. It’s all fun and games. Then they change the meds, some new people change the mood, and everything changes with it.

Not usually for the better.

First Do No Harm

jamie

I’ve never understood why people want to become famous. Being famous means you can’t be yourself. You give up being ordinary. At least you used to. Ordinary people get pretty famous nowadays.

The Internet has changed the meaning of fame. You can have millions of followers (I don’t, but some people do) and still be pretty ordinary; obscure, in terms of the public eye.  You know…Including all those other people who are too good to Google. Too cool for TikTok.  For the rest of us, it’s sort of a golden age in a way. If you’re on the right apps, that is. If the Government doesn’t take them away because they’re afraid of the power we have.

What I want to know is where is the true music underground? The next breakout sound is out there, in some garage or dive bar. A bigger than life, but authentic scene. Where the music speaks the truth and the true seeds of destiny will spring. Not about the industry or money or fame. Music has the power to change. To change Us.

I’m a libertarian at heart. You don’t need a bunch of rules if you follow just one: first do no harm. When the industry is killing the product, the industry needs to change. The money is literally killing the music.

They will exploit us until we refuse to be exploited. Then they’ll find a new way to exploit us.

Bald Eagle for Thanksgiving?

jamie

If Ben Franklin had his way, we’d be eating the national bird ? every Thanksgiving. Or maybe we’d eat bald eagle, because Turkeys would be a protected symbol of America’s deliciousness? #YouTellMe ~jg

America’s love-hate relationship with the bald eagle https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2022/03/bald-eagle-america-history-jack-e-davis/621311/

The Bald Eagle is protected in the US, but I bet it tastes just like Turkey.

Authors Note: All opinions expressed here are just that: opinions. If you don’t like mine, I probably won’t like yours either. Let’s just nod, and walk away. Maybe come back with solutions instead of opinions. Because of the two, only solutions actually matter.

Uncle Sam – Danbury, CT USA

Humanity First

jamie

Capitalism is survival of the fittest. Dog eat dog. Caveat emptor. Profits and power are the cornerstone of the elite class, a self made royalty in a society that measures value and worth by the dollar and acre.

In contrast, most of us ordinary people see the importance of the common good. We recognize the inherent value in taking care of everyone, not just the ones who would kill and eat everyone else in order to ensure their own survival. As human beings, adopting degrees of Socialism is the acknowledgement that we’ve transcended to those higher places. It’s evolution of the species, to a new place, where we learn take care of our own. ALL of them, even if they don’t look like us or speak our tongue.

Socialism doesn’t mean everyone gets an equal share, like in communism. Instead, socialism seeks to ensure that everyone gets an equal chance, and less lives are wasted. Even a capitalist should be able to grok the concept of less waste. Isn’t prevention of wasted human potential just as important as protecting human life itself?
Our society should be made up of haves and have-mores, instead of haves and have-nots. The rich can still get richer. They just can’t do it by exploiting people to the point of sickness, starvation and homelessness. THAT sounds like Humanism to me…and shouldn’t we ALL be humanists? #HumanityFirst ~jg

Authors Note: All opinions expressed here are just that: opinions. If you don’t like mine, I probably won’t like yours either. Let’s just nod, and walk away. Maybe come back with solutions instead of opinions. Because of the two, only solutions actually matter.

Owning the Pain (and other childhood scars)

jamie

I grew up with a bunch of religious taboos and social rules to follow. My parents were consumed with appearances and fitting in. By the time I got to high school, I was pretty messed up. Confused. Ignorant. A normal teen, growing up, without Internet, back in the day.

Apparently, I’m one of the last boomers. My parents were part of the Silent Generation. I guess the silent part was for realz because I never even heard of the Silent Generation until I looked up the folks to see where they fit in. Silence is golden I guess.

I miss my parents. Maybe they helped mess me up in the head. They caused some pain, but they didn’t do it on purpose. By and large, they did a pretty good job for their day. I mean, people didn’t really have a clue back then about parenting. You just did what your parents did. Funny how once you become a parent, you can see it from your parent’s perspective, and it suddenly makes a lot more sense. You know, all that shit that didn’t make sense back then, it’s pretty clearly stupid as fuck now.

I tried really hard to blame mom and dad for a lot of pain that was clearly my own fault. It took time to grow up and own the responsibility. It’s fine to acknowledge the damage that others cause us. But ultimately it’s up to us what we do with that pain. We do best when we own it and choose not to be defined by it, but rather defined by how we overcame it. Own the pain by owning the triumph.

The pain just keeps coming, and as you get older, each day gets a bit more full of pain. But also more full of joy. I find more joy in everything I do. Peeling through the skin of bitter pain to savor the joyous fruits, makes the fruit all the more sweet. ~jg

Jamie Gray

Authors Note: All opinions expressed here are just that: opinions. If you don’t like mine, I probably won’t like yours either. Let’s just nod, and walk away. Maybe come back with solutions instead of opinions. Because of the two, only solutions actually matter.

Autumn Kindling

jamie

I’d like to say I know who I am. I’m pretty sure I’m still finding out.
I’d like to say I know how things really are…that I know a lot about lots of important stuff.
Maybe I used to. The truth is, these days I feel like I know a lot of useless stuff that I’m absolutely sure will someday be important to someone, someplace.

Fall leaves in the yard | Original Photo by Jamie Gray

But, I do know a lot of things that could be much better, but for some ‘important’ people who are unwilling to change and uninterested in doing anything for anyone but themselves.
I also know that we all can make a difference if we decide not to be indifferent. I try to do my part.
The sun rises and sets, and all that I know seems everyday madness. But it’s bigger than me. It’s bigger than us.
Another day in the gilded age of Internet and impressions.

Every age of glory fades away or goes down in flames. And…It’s just…well, everything about America right now looks a lot like Autumn kindling.
~jg


Authors Note: All opinions expressed here are just that: opinions. If you don’t like mine, I probably won’t like yours either. Let’s just nod, and walk away. Maybe come back with solutions instead of opinions. Because of the two, only solutions actually matter.

Jamie Gray – Upstate NY Musician, Writer, and Photographer