For Paul

This is a blog entry from back over the spring, when P still loved me. I took it down when I began to realize things were not what they should be. He, however, had put it on his Myspace page, so it's not lost forever. When he transferred it there, he removed a key term, 'my boyfriend Paul', and replaced it with 'my friend Paul.' I guess I knew then that something was very wrong, and that he and I would probably not make it, even though it's taken me this long to let that truth into my heart.

I'm reposting it as a tribute to what we had together, to how much we loved each other, and even now, after all that's happened and the incredible hurt I'm in right now, to him, because I still do and always will love him.

Letting go is hard, and three years is a long time to be attached at the soul to someone - and we were - but this is my way of doing it. Messy, ugly, needy, but honest. I am learning to see truth and right now, truth sucks.

This is cut and pasted from Paul's page, so the first comment is his. The later comments that are mixed in were placed by real live people, but it looks funny cause it's all been taken out and put back in.

***

The following is an excerpt from a blog known as "ciaomanhattanbaby" and is one of the kindest blurbs ever written about me:

My friend Paul and I were watching YouTube videos last night. I am trying to convince him that Taylor Hicks is more than someone who just "won a fucking singing contest." It's a hard row to hoe. In watching music clips we strayed from Taylor to Jimmy Hall to a bunch of old videos I had bookmarked from Ash's board, like Son House, Koko Taylor and Big Mama Thornton, and others I was less familiar with, like an incredible clip of Hound Dog Taylor and Little Walter. In watching those videos it suddenly struck me how many talented and one-of-a-kind musicians go their entire lives without being recognized as such. Paul is one of these musicians.

Lemme tell you a little about him and perhaps get his 15 minutes started. First off, you gotta understand, Paul is a madman. Absolutely insane. Here's my favorite picture of him, taken when he was maybe in high school. This photo captures who he is more than any words could do:


Little has changed in the 25 years or so since that picture was taken. Paul treats life as a giant adventure, and his weapon of choice is music, specifically a Yamaha keyboard and Hohner Special 20 harmonicas. He is bad ass, all the way around. But here's the deal: this man is seriously talented. He sings, plays harp, keyboards and guitar, he mixes and produces music AND he was the founder and first owner of the Fabulous Forty Watt Club in Athens, Georgia.

But do you know him? Of course not. His music is only available to a small group of people who are both in the right place and the right mindset, and who are able to seek out unknown talent. Paul has played with some of the greats - Jack Hall, Chicago Joe Jones, Cindy Wilson, June Carter Cash - but most of you probably won't have a chance to see him perform his special brand of throw-down raw stinky sweaty blues, and that's a shame.

So my question is this: how much mind-blowing talent will we never know about? How many artists, musicians and writers out there will never be able to touch the masses? Taylor's whole "I wanna have my voice heard" schtick is not far from the truth, because for every Dylan there is a Nick Drake, for every Jack White there is a Dexter Romweber, and in this case, for every Jimmy Hall there is a Paul Scales.

How amazing would it be if we could give them all a chance.

Posted by Julie at 2:27 PM

Labels: Athens, Paul, pop music

4 comments:

cherie said... Amen. I've always thought that the best music is not the stuff you hear on the radio. Is it because the teenyboppers are the ones who buy the cds and determine what's popular? May 5, 2007 5:11 AM

Peanut said... Damn! Paul has played with some legends, including June Carter Cash! Man, I bet he has some great stories...I'd love to chat with him someday. Maybe one day we'll all be able to hang out at Fatt Matt's or something? May 5, 2007 3:32 PM

Paul Scales said... Such kind words from such kind folks. My playing piano on "Will the Circle Be Unbroken" with Mrs. Cash at the Midtown Music Festival was a total random thing. Mrs. Cash was the anchor talent on the gig, so naturally, she closed out the show. As fate would have it, the abreviated version of the Cindy Wilson Band (Cindy Wilson - vocals, Steve Baskin - guitar, and myself on piano)were the last to perform just prior to the closing segment of the show featuring Mrs. Cash. Mrs. Cash launched into the gospel classic and there I sat at my piano...what else could a poor boy do but play as the tune morphed into a giant sing-a-long. A once in a lifetime circumstance, no doubt, and trully an honor and a privilege. Julie is right, there is an unbelievable amount of talent just under the radar of public recognition, so it makes sense to support local music as much as possible as that is where the ball starts to roll. May 6, 2007 7:10 AM

Peanut said... Paul! Good to see you here! What a great story! No matter how it happened, you went with the flow, and ended up sharing the stage with a legend. That's awesome! It's a shame how great talent like yourself, and the others that Julie has mentioned, go unnoticed. Why does the music business (and its consumers)have such a narrow view on what is "mainstream?" I've always been into the blues, and it seems that this genre of music gets the shaft more than any other. I am a big fan of Jonny Lang, and have been since he released his major label debut when he was like 17. He's young, hip, nice-looking. Got all the makings of a star...or so one would think. But he is only known to those who enjoy the blues. He gets no airplay around here, and word-of-mouth is probably how he gets new fans. Supporting local music is right! I have seen many of my friends do what they love, and that's play music, for little or no money. They live and breathe music. Someone needs to give them a chance!

***

I remember the night I refer to up there, watching the videos together. We were holed up in the Quality Inn, as usual, watching videos and porn on my laptop, probably naked and smoking cigarettes, too. It was a really special night, and I remember thinking "Who else on earth would I sit here with and watch old blues videos on YouTube, discuss and critique them, take breaks to play his harp for me and kiss me, and who would actually enjoy spending the whole night doing it but Paul?" It was a fun, close, wonderful night, and so ordinary. That's what I miss the most.

So that's how it was once. It's all changed now. Now I'm a girl who was betrayed, lied to, and who spent the last four nights in the psych ward at Emory. I'm somewhat better now and next week will go into what's known as 'intensive outpatient therapy' for the next five weeks. That's all I really know.

Don't ever think you know someone, cause you don't.

Death and rebirth

My greatest fear came true, and I survived it. Well, so far. My summer of waiting, anticipating, working hard to get to the end, looking forward to the time when I'd be reunited with my love, mentally and emotionally planning our future...all that is over. I arrived at my destination - I AM DIVORCED - and saw a vast nothing. There was no man at the end. There was no passionate reunion. There was no kiss and planning our future. There was a wall with a stranger standing behind it, looking at me with cold shielded eyes. I'm shocked, astounded and very, very hurt.

All I want is to listen to Jimmy Cliff, Ahmad Jamal and the Modern Jazz Quartet. How odd is that? All other music makes me kind of feel sick.

I am going to California (with an aching...in my heart, for real) next week. Years ago when I had a huge breakup that bruised my heart, I went to Frisco to see an old boyfriend. We went out walking in the sunny cold air, took a ride across the Golden Gate Bridge on his BSA, and sat on the beach somewhere up there on that coast. I cried and cried. He made love to me, which in truth only complicated the situation. But all in all it was a rejuvenating, cleansing trip. California represents that to me: clarity, freedom, life.

This time I am going to visit my dear, dear, dear friends, Leslie and Bob. They are the most California people I know. Leslie has a psychic, earth mother spirit that not only heals you, but makes you feel like you're the most beautiful creature on the planet. Plus she only wears green and orange, which makes me love her even more. Bob is just Bob. He's funny and kind. They have a beautiful garden and sweet cuddly cats and dogs. And I've been told, now a fish. So that feels so good.

I am also going to see my dear, dear, dear friends Bug, Sandy and Daba. These are my Taylor Hicks friends who, along with me, are the only sane Taylor Hicks fans on the planet. But that's not why I love them. They are the kind of people that you meet and you just say to yourself "We're gonna be close friends forever." They are so excited about my trip that it makes me cry a little.

Speaking of friends, this whole bullshit fucking ridiculous experience has shown me lots of things about life and love and how I put myself out there in the world and how I treat those I love, which is not good, let me admit that first. But mainly it's shown me that I have the most kind, giving and supportive friends in the world.

I guess the moral of this story is multiple: Never trust that things will turn out the way you want and expect them to. When your heart tells you something isn't right, it isn't. Love, no matter how strong-and I'm talking STRONG- can and does die. The universe changes every day...embrace that and let it go. You can't control anything. Ask yourself "What do I want" and go with that, cause it's all you got.

I am very angry, but I'm letting it pass through me. I'm also going to walk up Stone Mountain today - the steep side. When I am very sad, I cry and beat the shit out of my mattress and it fades. Somewhat. But weirdly enough, I still love this man. A lot. More than a lot. How do you deal with that? I guess love is what it's all about, whether it "works out" or not.

The truth is that I will survive. But sometimes I just don't want to. If I could live in this photograph forever, I would. This is the best it gets, and thank God I lived there, even for a short while.

Time

Geez, what happened to August? For me it has been like a wasted month, a time spent marking days off a calendar, waiting. And I've still got so far to go.

I am finally ready to file for divorce. It has taken this long for everyone to agree on the wording of certain (money-related) items. We've had to write and re-write, and the delay has radically drained my spirit. I feel spent and empty, and very tired. On the bright side, it will all be official on Tuesday. I feel liberated and relieved about that. But I think I've aged about five years in the last month, and I fear I'll age another ten before it's finalized and I can see my man again. Ouch.

Today's entry is not really going to be about much. I'm just marking time. I'm going to see John Wesley Harding tonight at Eddie's Attic. He's a good friend of mine and I haven't seen him in about three years. It should be fun. Here's a sampling of his stuff. It's from some in-store performance, but is the only video performance of one of my favorite songs that I could find. Listening to the words today, I realize the song could be about me, though Wes and I aren't like THAT, of course.



That's my pal Rob Lloyd on the keyboards. Ah, music. See, I feel better already!

Therapy

Well I've decided to go back into therapy on a regular basis. I've been feeling very scattered, very scared, kind of like my heart is being ripped out over and over. I realized things were getting out of control and that I couldn't handle them by myself; I was going to make a bigger mess of things than they already were. I called for help.

It was a wise move on my part. I like my new therapist. She is young, pretty, has fabulous warm eyes and great shoes. She told me lots of good stuff that I hadn't even thought of. First thing: "You are holding up remarkably well given all the crap you're going through." Thank you for noticing. She also said that this was a period of real loss, and lots of it. I told her I hadn't looked at it that way but she was totally right. The loss of my dad still hasn't worn off, and I don't think I've really grieved for him. The loss of P. is downright tangible, and the ways he reminds me of Dad make that loss double. The fact that I have no real friend network - actual physical friends in town who I can stop in on and just talk, not you fabulous online friends - make the loss of P. triple, in fact, since he's been my person to lean on for so long. And lastly, the divorce, as much as I want it and am honestly looking forward to it, is nevertheless a loss. The family structure, fucked as it is, will be gone. The children will experience a loss. The entire experience is new and frightening. But that is where the good part comes in. She told me "You feel completely powerless. You can't do anything about P.'s decision. You can't stop the children from feeling hurt and scared. But you do have power. Be conscious of everything you do today and make it a moment of power. You chose to come here. You will choose to go to the lawyer today. View everything you do in a positive light, and don't forget you hold all the power over yourself." Then she told me to remember to eat, since I haven't been able to in about two weeks. She said to pamper myself, treat myself to stuff, go swimming, ask a friend to sit and talk with me. She said "Tomorrow I want you to go get a massage." I like her.

So as freaky as my life is right now, it's much better than it has been the last two months. Things are actually progressing. I am going to have my own family, a real, honest family. I will be able to say "my ex-husband" and have it be true. The strained and false family outings and dinners will be over. I will be single and clear of all deceit, and that feels wonderful. It's a whole new direction and a whole new life.

Oh. And I've hidden my cell phone. It is turned off and in a drawer in my bedroom. When I have gotten control of my texting compulsion I may take it back out. Or I may wait till the divorce hearing is over and I'm single. I haven't decided. But all you fans out there who may have tried to call me, you ain't gonna get me! Send an email, will ya?

More Raspberries, for CW

This song is corny, beautiful, sad and oh, so 1973. And the sentiment has never been more appropriate.

I played the hell out of this record back in the days of Don Kirschner's Rock Concert. Hearing it takes me back to the age of 13, which, in retrospect, was not such a bad time at all.

Enjoy, CW.


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Strength in love

All you lucky people out there who love someone, I have some advice. It's simple and non-earthshattering, but so important.

Count yourselves among the luckiest people in the world. Embrace the gifts given to you by that person every day. Be patient with them, respect them, honor them and never forget that their love is God's way of telling you how important you are. Reciprocally, your love and your treatment of them is how they know their own importance in the world. The way we act towards another person should not be taken lightly, for it is a powerful tool which can be used to lift them up or push them down. Never take love for granted. Treat it as the fragile, precious, beautiful gift that it is, for it can be gone in an instant.

We are all lost in this world. Giving kindness and understanding is a way of making each other less lost. Embrace your power and use it wisely.

Exactly how I feel right now

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Just change the "she" to "he"...