Jerry Jeff Died

Jerry Jeff Walker died. 

This one is harder. I really do not even know where to start or what to say. I’d guess that about eighty percent of my current friends never knew me at all when I made my living singing in bars. I ended up in larger venues, touring and doing comedy as well, but it all began in bars. In 1972 I bought my first Jerry Jeff Walker album. It was just called, Jerry Jeff Walker. I loved every song on it. Next I bought Viva Terlingua, and I did the same thing with that album. I read and reread the liner notes. I stared at the pictures. I learned the songs and sang them hundreds of times on stages. I had found someone who sang who I was, or more correctly, how I wanted to live. I ended up moving from Virginia to Austin, Texas. 

    

I was a regular at Luckenbach during the peak of what Luckenbach was. Back when Hondo (the unofficial mayor of the “town”) was always around. I used to stay at his house when I was too drunk to drive the 90 miles back to Austin, many times I just drove it drunk AF. It was a different world. I heard Hondo recite his poem, “The Moon” so many times I could have done it with him. I was living a life I owed to songs sung by one man, Jerry Jeff Walker. I was only in Austin about a year, but it is such an important segment of my life it seems so much longer. And when you’re twenty-two, a year is a long fucking time anyway. 

I am not sure where my words are going with this. Tears are fucking with me and eloquence is illusive, and as you know my brain is not itself (if you are keeping up). When John Prine died, that was massive. But now Jerry Jeff? Over the years, I met them both. I sang into the same microphone with Jerry Jeff on stage at Castle Creek in Austin with the Lost Gonzo Band (I had opened for the band that night). Yeah, I’ve been drunk with Jerry Jeff, but who in Austin hadn’t back then? 

 I ended up in inpatient rehab in 1990. But, I had lived those songs as fully as it was possible to live them and I had come out alive. I would not change that for anything. No, I would not. The best parts of what those songs are, and what they meant and mean, is still very, very much an integral part of who I am today. I might be in the Iron Range of FNQ, or the Kimberley but there is always a little bit of 70’s Texas in me. The “dirt road back streets” from Austin ended up in Birdsville. Australia is just Texas upside down.  

I owe a whole fucking lot to Jerry Jeff Walker.

“Just gettin' by on gettin' by's my stock and trade

 Livin' it day to day

 Pickin' up the pieces where ever they fall

 Just lettin' it roll lettin' the high times carry the low

Livin' my life easy come easy go.” JJW

"An Australian Birding Year" is Officially Released

 

The story of the year of travel when my wife and I birded the entire continent of Australia in a camper, published by John Beaufoy Publishing is now finally available online and stores in Australia and the UK. It was a long time coming, but its time has come. It is out! 

It was not a “Big Year” effort, although we did keep a list, and had a total of 640 species seen as a couple. The list of birds and when and where we saw them is in the back of the book. It was originally called, “The Year” and was what I decided to call a ‘prerelease’ version from the print-on-demand company, Blurb. They print very good quality books. Lily Krumpe had done a beautiful job on the design layout, as well as drawing the maps, and working with me and encouraging the overall project. I am very grateful for her talents. 

I love to write, I truly do. However, the work following the initial “finishing” of a book is not as much fun. There’s editing and lots of little details (and finding that I had made a mistake, or five) and sorting photos and doing lots of left-brain stuff. The right-brain stuff, creating, I have covered. That is the “I love to write” part. The left-brain stuff I find very difficult. 

 An odd thing for me as a creator of a book is waiting. I made my living performing my songs and material on stage where I had instant reaction from the audiences. The process of creating and then having to wait a couple of years (years mind you) before hearing how people liked what I created is different. I really am kind of an instant gratification type of guy. But as I said, its time has come, and I gratefully I am hearing some very nice things. Thank y’all! 

Bunda Cliffs off the Nullarbor, South Australia 

By the way, my publisher is asking that I suggest to those who enjoy the book to post a short review on Amazon. Evidently those are important. The review section is at the bottom of the Amazon page and says, “Customer reviews” and “Review this product.” I thank you in advance if you do.

I write therefore I am. I share therefore it's real. I have hope, therefore I am alive.

Notes on Hope and Ageing

I have not written a blog entry in a few months so I am having a go at this one. The issue is, that Blogger updated and changed, a lot. I am battling my way through and we will see how we go. It does not work in the same way that it did and this may be just an experiment. We will see. Now on with the entry. It seems to have worked and I will now attempt to hit "publish" and then I will try a quick edit. 

Sunset on the Hay Plains, New South Wales 15 November 2015 from my book, An Australian Birding Year published by John Beaufoy Publishing. I will do a longer post about the book release soon. It is out now.

Ageing is, it just is. Acceptance is a process. Acceptance does not mean surrender, but it does mean accepting some facts because they are facts. Acceptance is similar to surrender, but there is a passivity in surrender that I equate with "giving up." Acceptance is a proactive giving up, surrender seems less so. But they are both just words.

For me it means to learn to understand that finally, I do have a few limitations and I will learn to accept them without resentment and without grieving. There is grieving in these ageing changes, whether I acknowledge it or not. As I look back on the last three years, I grieve a bit. I miss some things that are gone and can never be again. There is no way around that, I have to accept it and move along. 

I made a meme a while ago that said, “Do it now. You never know when too late will happen.” And that is truth. There does indeed come a point for a few things when they are no longer possible. The old saying, “It is never too late to…” Well, sometimes it is. I wrote briefly about this a few months back. 

Another from the Hay Plains just before massive thunderstorms. It was beautiful out there.

I am working toward identifying, and then focusing on, my future in two stacks. These are not unlike the serenity prayer. “To accept the things I cannot change and the courage to change the things I can.” That is a cornerstone for living, regardless of alcoholism and recovery. That is just living wisdom. So, my two stacks are as follows… 

 Stack One: Things that have become, and must remain, impossible to do anymore. Those will need graceful acceptance. 

 Stack Two: Things that are now, or will be, possible for me to do. Some of these will require effort and possibly changes in the way I do them, but they will be doable. These are the things from which hope can rise out of the emptiness. This stack must to be the larger of the two stacks for there to be any quality of life. 

A Southern Emu-wren from Anglesea Heath 2015 because there should be a bird photo in here and I do love me some Emu-wrens.

Hope is one of the most important words for me. It is an indispensable concept for my life. There have been times in the past when I had lost hope. There have been times in the last few years when the light of hope seemed to have flickered and gone out. And then yet, somehow, it was always rekindled. I have some hopes and plans. Hopes and dreams are the two words often put together, but I need the more solid word “plan.” I am planning some things. Plans need to be fluid and flexible. I can look forward to something without being completely attached to the outcome. It is the “hope” that is the important part.

One of my sources of hope. I do own a Troop Carrier camper and I can (when I can afford the fuel) go almost anywhere in Australia. Her name is Troopi.

Expectations can bring misery or hope. It is the attachment to outcomes that is the tricky part, but so important in quality of life (dealing with this new program on this blog website that I use is sorely testing these thoughts. I do expect things to work and that often does not apply to modern technology, hahaha).

I will see about adding some images and move forward with, hopefully posting this. Crossed fingers as we say. 

I write therefore I am. I share therefore it's real. I have hope therefore I am alive.