(Continued from previous chapter)

Considering 98ROCK for any source of meaningful employment. I just didn't believe them any more as more information to the contrary seemed to come about, so I reclassified them as working there was great for some.

Mickey was the largest reason that I lost them for the source of employment inspiration; much like that boy with a hammer. I loved his notion of working for an area of a corporation that seemed as if you were part of the family, but then there seemed to be a lessening of this as he told listeners, to become considered as part of the 98ROCK family, you had to have their (The Morning Shows, and Mickey's) approval. Without that, no matter what, you aren't getting in; it was just the feel he put on it all.

I also found out with what was mentioned on the air, that their entry level positions, assistant producers, were getting paid much less, what I would consider poverty wages. The amount absolutely shocked me; in fact you tended to live at home and work a second job, but you had to be dedicated to the station and when they needed you, so you had to make sacrifices there as well. While it seemed a great accolade to have, I felt it held very little pay wise for me.

At many of the events, I perceived they kept an engineer there as he seemed to run the entire show from the remote location, from the set up, to the on air operation and also breaking it down. Even the directors seemed to have it much easier as they usually just watched from behind.

At one of the Beer and Bacons, I was shocked to see the guy I perceived as their engineer, drinking a beer and had to rib him a little about it. I didn't expect, "No, I'm not working there anymore." He explained that his other job is being a bar tender and it was earning him far more then he received there. Yet, it explained why they were suddenly clipping themselves off the air at prior events, and having also occurred at this beer and bacon, he helped them out free of charge.

He absolutely loved working at the station, and had absolutely nothing bad to say about them, except for what he had made money wise. I learned a lot at that Beer and Bacon about things which I could not only apply to my desire to work for the station or Hearst, but in evaluating other employment as well.

I have talked to other family members of employees as I was laying this chapter out, and some of the personalities were very hard for the assistants to deal with, one name came up in particular. Later his problems would be publically disclosed as he got into an accident which also cost him, his employment.

While the personalities were cloistered and fairly non responsive, the family members weren't, To me it was the neatest thing to learn a little more about the personalities behind the microphones as well the business staff. Also, in the love that everyone had for the station, as well as the reality of working there.

They did agree with the 98ROCK family concept, but added a, "But..." As for any criticisms, I felt that what they expressed was valid and within keeping to what I believed. You learned about the one's hard to work with; and I got a kick out of the family perspective, and all comments indicated the person loved working there.

Of course I had to get the dirt on Dave Hill, their program director, and all I ever got from these people was a chuckle at the inference of, "Dirt." My allegations of fornication and orgies, made them roar with laughter, but saying, "So you're telling me that Dave is a tea tottler;" that made them roar as well.

The expressed a bit of shock on the, "dirt," I expressed that I found personally; "Yea, Dave's hardest decision and only problem with drinking is what I saw at the Fells Point Festival; when he told himself he wasn't going to have a beer until 1:00pm and it is 12:00 noon!" They all loved that one, and really stood up for Dave saying he is a nice guy, but reminded me he is the boss and will step in as he thinks is necessary.

On the radio, it seems Dave Hill only steps in the studio for a, "Jugs for Plugs," or when attractive women are there, which becomes a bit of sorts. My favorite is when Mickey calls or wakes him up, to talk about some business aspect; but there has been those times he has come on to correct something he feels needed. Point blank, that boss card can put down on the table fast.

I enjoyed talking with these people as you see more of the ins and outs of radio, and find out how cut throat it really is or can be. I had a couple of their family members tell me that I should be behind a microphone, and I joked and said, "Let them get used to Mickey first." I told them I would love to give it a try, but as a fill in first, "After all, Dave Hill set the standard for that one." I loved when he couldn't find a sit in for a DJ that was out, and had to fill in himself. Sort of like Mr. Rodgers trying to be hip.

I found out at yet another Beer and Bacon, Dave Hill the program director does read my Emails, but just never replied to them. I was shocked that some months later he mentioned he read one particular idea and mentioned I have a lot of good ones, but outside of that, a few more minutes later and he had to go to talk to other people.

I feared one of my problems was I was thinking along the lines of a program director and there could only be one, and despite the differences of my ideas, it would be best to save them for myself should I become in some radio endeavor.

But one of the main reasons was just how Scott the producer was. In the beginning of the Mickey, Amelia and Spiegel show; they were so appreciative of those that decided to support them, but year by year they seemed to erect barriers between them and their listeners.

With me, I was no longer given free rein to go to where I needed to get my photographs, such as behind their broadcast, and the hosts seemed to be escorted to private places to take their breaks. However, the biggest separation came from an attitude I perceived that there were also those times they held their listeners with more contempt then appreciation, and would rather not be around them.

I also felt the listenership has changed and it was becoming increasingly uncomfortable to bumble my way though them without confrontation. The crowd struck me as a much younger and party oriented one, and definitely not as considerate or understanding as the crowds which were older and much more courteous. But who came and went, was something the station didn't have much control over.



My favorite part of 98ROCK was adding them to the list of people that inspired my poetry and it was a real honor for me to participate and I was willing to offer them by skills; I let them know that all they had to do was to alert me to what they wanted poetrywise, roughly how they wanted it, and if this was for a humorous bit or not.

One day I had just walked into work when Dave said, "What are you doing here, aren't you supposed to be at the studio?"

"What?"

"Your 98ROCK's official poet."

I was totally flattered and in a sense, for lack of anyone else noticeably stepping forward with poetry, so of considered myself to be. I did joke about it humorously to people, as I doubted that anyone there would call me that.

"No, they never told me I was, why?"

"Well they said that their official poet is in the studio and referred to him as Mike."

"Well you know how that show is, maybe they forgot to tell me." We both laughed and I finished, "I'll keep an ear out for him."

Sure enough, they announced the 98ROCK's poet was in the studio and that his name was Mike Geezy. He turned out to have Asberger Syndrome which is an autism spectrum disorder which affects behavior and social interaction. I was well aware of this syndrome as a friend's son has it.

They introduced him and then let him do his poem. It was a rap type poem that was recited to tambourine and while I felt it was hilarious, what really cracked me up was it was obvious he was so serious about it. Dave and I looked at each other and cracked up with laughter, "Well Dave, he's their official poet because he's harmless."

I had to take a look at this poetic adversary and since he was announced as doing another poem at the Christmas, Beer and Bacon, there was no better opportunity. I got there and as soon as he came in, he immediately grabbed his tambourine and got near the broadcast area. I think they told him to relax and they will let him know when they would put him on, but he remained in place.

I was doing my photography thing, but kept one eye on him and after a couple of false starts, he had the microphone and working his poetic rap magic; I just had to clap. I was amazed at both is total and utter seriousness and the fact that he had these huge think glasses.

Some time later, 98ROCK's morning show announced that he was doing an event and was robbed and assaulted later afterwards outside, and had to be hospitalized. I felt bad for the dude, so I penned him my own poem, "Geezy! Get Well, You're Swell!" I sent the poem to 98ROCK and asked how he was doing, but never got a reply back from anyone.

I also tried to track him down, but it was obvious he wasn't able to be located on the internet. He showed up at a Beer and Bacon and I had my poem in hand, but he was too preoccupied with regards of being on the air. After he was finished, I walked up to him, introduced myself and mentioned I had a poem about his robbery to give him. He said, "Thanks," didn't even look at it and shoved it right into his satchel, totally crumpling it up before walking away.

One could only laugh at such a poetic slight. But he ended up driving the show nuts as he was very upset and not being put on the air for a long while, and Scott the producer not getting back to him. They put him and his grievance on the air and attempted to calm Michael Geezy's meltdown. My only thought was, At least they put him on the air and said thanks.

There was another poetic panic on the morning show as once again I walked into work and Dave looked at me and started laughing, "Mike, did you write Amelia a love poem?"

I loved the notion, so I laughed and said, "No, why?"

"Well, someone did and they are all upset and plan to talk about it later."

That's one way to keep me listening to them, so I paid attention and sure enough, they mentioned the poem and Amelia explained how and why she was so upset about it. Then Scott chimed in and strangely said, "Is his name, Mi-chael?" I did wonder if this was an inference to me, but Amelia said it wasn't.

They did read the poem and while it had a sort of dark and foreboding tone to it, I felt it was very good poem, more a tribute then what I would consider a love poem. I think it was the next day the actual author called up and apologized and explained why he wrote it for Amelia. They queried him about the darkness to it and he explained it was written as a sonnet. Considering I had a sonnet just published, I thought they had enough problems with grasping simpler poems.

At the next Beer and Bacon, I met Scott the Producer out back as he was leaving the show. I mentioned his comment "Is his name, Mi-chael?" and asked him if he was referring to me.

He simply started laughing and said, something along the lines he borrowed his car and has to leave. I was really put off by this and replied, "Scott, there's no wrong answer with me on this, I just want a simple, 'yes,' or, 'no;' were you referring to me?"

I found out with that question, there was a wrong answer. All I wanted was an honest one, but I really think he liked twisting the knife in and with a perceived masochistic streak said, "No, I have to go. I just have to go," and pointed to the car.

It was at the exact moment, I felt I saw Scott for who he was and wondered why I would even try to have anything to do with 98ROCK and employment there. I know at times, he lamented his perception as an asshole and a dick; but this day he joined the ranks as a cunt, which only includes Tony Danza for my experience in reference with him at the poetry convention, where his security guard forcibly shoved a woman and fan's camera into her face.

I tried only a couple more times in regards to employment and 98ROCK/Heart, as I just had to make sure. I wrote Dave Hill and asked him if it would be possible to talk to me about employment and positions at 98ROCK and Hearst, and he never got back to me. I asked if it would be possible to talk to the big boss, as I felt it I had definite talents to lend to them to use, and again, he never got back to me.

My friend and neighbor Dave said it best. "OK, you want to be an editor or copy writer, where's you PhD? Work with photography and video, where's your degree that says you can? Work behind the scenes, where's your communication or business degree? Be a reporter, where's your journalism degree? Be behind a microphone, where's your FCC license that says you can do that?"

It bothered me greatly that all of my training, leadership in scouts, my self-education and experience; as well , what was gained from working for 35 years, much less working for the same company for 28 years, simply wouldn't matter or even be considered seriously. I still love the show and listen to it and regardless of my personal opinions or feelings towards anyone, I maintain a lot of respect for the work that they do.

Scott? He is a very good producer, and gets the work done to keep the show up and running, except when Mickey knocked them off the air by spilling his coffee into the main board; where he was very reactive and had the show going again before the smoke cleared.

I love Dave Hill and know his job isn't easy and really got a kick out of his transition from a cool rock and roll cat with long bleach blond hair, to someone that looked like he stepped out of Yentl to; a more hip, bald corporate type, with just a twist of rebellion.

Personally, he's the one I would like to catch up to and drink with, and just let him talk about the business. I actually think this is possible and he wouldn't mind that, provided I wasn't actually stalking him, but would use up so much of my time in tracking him down. Whether it would do anything for me personally in regards to hiring me, I doubt it, but I would learn so much. I didn't sour on working in radio, but it is something I would only desire if it can fit into my life and provide the income I would consider to be reasonable.



A new aspect of my life which held quite a bit of fascination for me was becoming involved with local rock bands. In a sense it was Darryl Read and my singing Doors songs that really put the bug in my system to check things out, but the local band scene seems to have the same functionality as 98ROCk had in my life, but definitely provided me with far more adventure.

Through John, my high school friend over the course of 25 years, I was well aware of the saga and tumult, musicians go though. Not to mention the total frustrations of actually getting things progressing and gaining a following only to have band members' self-destruct and fall apart. This is always especially horrifyingly entertaining when it happens on stage during mid performance.

With 98ROCK's, Beer and Bacons, it seemed I did have a pack of musicians that followed me as I posted on 98ROCK's Facebook page and they signed on as friends and I was invited to numerous gigs. Most of which I wanted to go to check them out, but because of my work schedule and money, simply couldn't.

I also desired, to try my hand at creating rock inspired poetry. In part to pay tribute to rock music itself, but also to point a little more positive attention to the local musicians. They appreciated me showing up; in addition to pay the door fee or increased price for the drinks, I did the photography as well.

My two main complaints were the bands either played in cheap, dirty bars; or at a venue that was too expensive for me. I did find some venues such as Recher Theater that offered the bands at a great price and had really decent sound along with lighting.

I was never a bar type, spending the most amount of time in them with the arguing during my marriage. Personally all I wanted was a quiet dark place where I could relax and enjoy a few drinks. But every single one of them was loaded with TV's, blaring one sport or another, or with loud people in them. It also had it's moment where you found yourself in a crowd of a group of people just like you, but telling everyone there problems; interesting to compare notes, but what I was trying to get away from.

For the bands I sucked it up, and despite any negatives, I always enjoyed the music and the fun the bands brought with them. Some of the patrons on the other hand ... Outside I was smoking, there as a fairly attractive woman interested in me; not bad for being in her sixties. She wouldn't would leave me alon, and although she said she was married but clingy and insisted on buying me shots. I decided to apply a little birth control, "You know what, I think I will take you up on that, I'm just divorced and broke!" She simply turned and walked away.

The next band that played there and again outside, I was talking music with a guy and mid conversation, he added, "By the way, I'm gay."

Without missing the beat, "Nice to know, but I don't play." With switching back to the music conversation, it was obvious just how it was messing with him and he finally had to walk away as I refused to let him gauge me from his statement.

For a while on Harford Road, there was this small woman, with long hair who was exceedingly thin and obviously, she was high all the time. The way she looked, I pretty much figured she was going to be dead soon and it was a total shock to see her at a Harford Road bar looking a lot better. There were other prostitutes there as well that walked outside of work, and one of the crazier ones was there giving her legal advice and explaining how to deal with probation.

I felt she needed a friend, but really had no desire for much beyond that; knowing her past. I did give her a hug one New Years Eve and we became Facebook friends. She wanted me to check out one of her favorite bands which was playing down the street from the bar I usually went to, The Holiday House. Featured in John Water's, "A Dirty Shame."

It was going to be a good night when I ordered a shot of Jack, and instead was given Jagermeister instead. There was another band playing, and then she showed up and I caught up to talk to her, but outside a guy interrupted and point blank said, "Hey come on, it's time where ready! Don't you want to get high? Let's go." She immediately turned away and went with him.

I was so totally amazed that she made the choice of doing drugs over talking to me. I just left and went home. Then a couple weeks later on Facebook, it was obvious she was down and I simply put together a, "punny," sentence to cheer her up using her name for inspiration. She exploded on me and got very nasty.

I immediately apologized, but she kept going off on me, "You are a horrible person, and remind me of the father of my children! I have mental health issues and you are ..." I think with her explanation, I figured out every one of them, so I unfriended her. But she persisted and felt it best to block her out completely.

Then that Friday night at work, I sort of felt a bit watched and when I started dumping the trash, suddenly found her sitting on the wall at the side of the building eating her food. I was so put off, I decided to stay in the building and finish my chores there. Forty-five minutes later she was still there, so I clocked out and went home. I haven't seen her again.

To me, she not only had a lot of the aspects I suffered though with Rita when I was married to her, she also had a substance abuse problem and the only friend she really had was her drugs and any guy that would provide them for her. This was to be my biggest lesson and clue that while I loved rock and roll music, to remain celibate. It made me sad in a way, because the freak girls of my youth were fun loving, but honest and still had wonderful qualities about them that I enjoyed.

Be it rock concerts or Beer and Bacons, there were those times I felt that I could have taken a woman home to make love to, but the easiest way to avoid this was to ask yourself, What will you do in the morning and wake up to the thought of, Oh shit, what do I do next with her? If she's not worth taking home to show mommy, then she wouldn't be good for any type of relationship.

But there was a relationship with women that I did want to get up, something I considered to me a more professional one as I wanted to learn to write songs and knew I have the talent to develop that aspect for my life. With the poetry, I really wanted to find female singers to incorporate their music with my lyrics. While I didn't know music formally, I did add that element of notation in my poems, instead of just da, di, da, di, da.

Often when one band plays, at least a few bands or their members show up when they aren't playing somewhere themselves, and felt I lucked out when I found a female guitar player and vocalist. I introduced myself and explained the I would be interested in finding out what music they play so I could write lyrics for her, "I'm sorry, I have a boyfriend!"

"No, we aren't talking about dating, but getting up a business relationship -"

"I told you, I have a boyfriend."

"No, I would like to write songs as I think we could come up with a hit, I feel I have the talent to add for that."

"I just said, I have a boy friend." I mentioned it would only be a relationship regarding writing and performing music and she got totally pissed and stormed off. A couple of minutes later, she walked up to me, obviously dragging a completely confused guy, "I don't think you can take a hint! I said I got a boy friend and here he is."

I shook his hand and introduced myself and explained my intentions and he actually thought that would be pretty cool, which just pissed her off that much more. I just had to tell him, "I am glad to meet you because you are a better man then I. Do you write music?"

"No." I busted out laughing and walked away.

When I did that, she said real loud, "Finally!"

There was another woman vocalist that I knew for years and really admired as she had a really good and professional band. I was at a Fells Point Festival Beer Garden and decided to photograph every band that played, part for 98ROCK and also for myself. One of the last acts had a woman as a guitar player and lead singer.

Right off the bat, I was hit with her sheer spirit and intensity. We both saw the same thing at the same time; a plastic cup full of beer and we both headed for it. My intention was to get under it so I could capture the image of her kicking it with the beer going over my head.

But she beat me to it and instead, I had to switch to protecting the camera as I got nailed with the beer. I loved her performance and just about having full access to the stage area, got some good photography and fit her into a poem that I wanted to create.

Not having too many female band members around, I kept an eye out for her band and caught her band a couple of times in my area, and just as before, got some great photography. Like with all bands, I shared the photographs with them and had one or two being used. I did like her music, so I purchased her CDs to add to my collection.

I hooked up with both her band and personal page on Facebook and things seemed really positive. That was how I found out she was in a Hard Rock Cafe sponsored, Battle of the Bands, and her entering the competition where local rock bands compete at each restaurant to win, then move on to a nationwide, virtual competition; all this to open for an internationally famed band.

I decided to take off of work to help her win the competition, but just before, she put up a comment about doing cocaine which rather upset me, as I gave a somewhat harsh response. I went to the Hard Rock Cafe and enjoyed the battle, and it was a fast paced, intense affair.

I had asked her if she ever had received flowers for the performance, and she said that she hadn't, so I asked her, "What type of flowers does a rock and roll lady get."

"Dark and thorny," came to mind so I went with white roses, with the thorns left on and had the blood red carnations tinted with black edges. At the end of the performance I gave them to her and she seemed genuinely touched and at the end of the competition, her band had won it.

I felt that she deserved the honor, and afterwards she mentioned the cocaine talk is for the benefit of her fans, and I suggested it wasn't. She also told me something along the line that if she uses it, it isn't often and she used the word, "managed."

Attending the event was a real sacrifice for me and now I had to take off of work at the last minute, to attend the final play off. The first two bands, I felt weren't winners at all and their performance despite their enthusiasm lacking, then the third was pretty good and I felt a threat for the woman's band.

Then she got up there, and I thought really captured a lot of energy not only from their performance, but from the crowd as well and in my mind she won it right there. I know the fifth band had a reputation and a following that really made itself evident.

It was definitely hard rock and heavy metal, with an ear piercing energy to boot and it definitely had the crowd going. To me it seemed overworked and at the end, they busted up an electric guitar and handed the pieces to the crowd. I liked them, but still felt the woman had the better performance.

I had to head to the bathroom and I walked in with one of the judges from her prior performance and at the urinal, expressed my opinion that she should have won. The piss conversation started with him saying, "No way! The right band won, here's why ... This is why she didn't deserve to win ..."

I was really put off with his take on her and her band and expressed my disagreement as well as my disbelief. Now washing our hands he concluded with, "Look all she wants to be is a teen idol and look at her and her age, she will never be that either." Again, I disagreed, "Look, keep watching her and you will figure out how I am right."

I liked the singer and kept following her, but she wasn't going to be playing in the area for a while. I started getting the image of her coming over and simply finding a bit of space to chill out and enjoy life. No big thoughts in regards to her, but I did see us messing with my Doors singing and possibly working on ideas to develop her music and in creating lyrics.

I became a lot more active on her Facebook page, and got an unexpected surprise. Somewhere along the line, I felt I tripped an invisible landmine. Suddenly on her page she blurted out, "I keep my heart in a locked box and you'll need an axe to get in! Do you want me to bring the flowers back to you?"

I was a bit shocked, and had a somewhat humorous reply, but privately I asked if that was for my benefit. I never received a reply and none of my subsequent posts were ever answered. In the end, she mentioned cocaine again and with having enough of this crap talk, decided it was best to, "unfriend," her.

I still liked her a lot, and even created a couple more poems that she inspired; one titled, "Singer Girl," which was about the spirit behind the singer. I also couldn't get the idea of a woman's heart guided behind a locked box out of my mind, so I created a poem suggesting, an alter instead and featured an image of her busting out of a church. I doubt either one was perceived all that well.

It is weird as I talked to many bands about her and they all have their own comments, alluding to her band is all about her, she won't allow anyone else any control to one up her music, and fairly negative comments about dealing with her. In the end, I learned to understand every word that judge said.



I loved the bands, but not all of them were very pleasing. There is nothing fun about using the two hours to photograph them; then the ten hours to crop, adjust and retouch the photos, to post them then having the band post their copies without crediting you as the photographer. Very often, it was even without a simple thanks you, so I toned my photography way back so I could enjoy their show a lot more.

I ended up not being hot up on supporting or following bands as they became more popular, they tended forget who supported them or simply took on too much as they self destructed; you could see this meltdown occurring during the performance.

Most bands also have their tales of cruddy treatment as well. For one band, I walked six in a half miles to see them at Surf City bar and grill which was up in Perry Hall; a pretty good trek up the road. They were the feature band to ring in the New Year and there were several other ones as well. It was supposed to be entertainment up to 1:00am.

I noticed something right away, as the bands were taking up way too much time and the schedule was falling severely behind; especially since they were playing one or two encore songs as well. I alerted both the feature band, who in all honesty had too much party going on, as well as the staff running it. The teardowns and setups had very little eye towards discipline or the time element as well.

Just before the New Year, the feature band started up and immediately had to stop to ring it in, then they got off another song, and were told it is over. They attempted to play another and security went ape shit on them and had the power cut. I pointed out it was only 12:15 and they promised music till 1:00am. The main security guy got in my face and yelled, "I don't care, I want to go home, so I am shutting it down!"

The band attempted to argue with them and I acted as a go between to get the band packed up and out. With them as well I felt I had a good relationship as a couple signed on as Facebook friends, but the one member, while a good guy, always seemed to drop the ball.The singer decided to pick a fight with me over my idea of planking on a tombstone, saying if he catches me in the cemetary, he's going to kick my ass and dump me in one of the graves he digs. Hated to tell the guy, the idea was actually for the monument company next door.

I have also seen just how much is put into these shows and how crumby it can get for the bands. We actually printed advertising cards for an upcoming performance that a band was sponsoring at the Dubai Club in Baltimore city, but the big event there was the Grand Prix being held just down the street.

I got to the club early and offered to help, but since I paid was told to relax. I was told by the night club staff they wouldn't be serving drinks until the show started. I found a lady who introduced herself to me as the promoter and had a feeling that she had to be one of the mothers of a band member.

I talked to the woman at the door and indeed she was also a mother of the featured band member, and confirmed my suspicions on their promoter. I noticed their list of people that reserved tickets and it was pretty meager for such an event and was told that there was so much going on, but people promised to show up at the door if they can.

I felt their security was fine, and then I saw several more security members show up which raised my eyebrows. The sound was having trouble setting up because it was a hip hop night club and the acoustics we difficult to work around, as was getting any proper lighting on the stage so you could see the band.

A bit more crowd show up, but in a venue that can hold hundreds, thirty was a bit meager. Finally the first band got started and a few more people came in. All of a sudden, I saw people with security shirts start pouring in and my only thought was, "Jesus, they are going to have more security than attendees."

Not knowing what they signed for, I questioned them about the whole thing, especially when mom came up and exclaimed, "Ray Lewis might be coming!" Now I had the great idea they were being ripped off, and it indicated to me they too questioned things. It wasn't very long before I saw both of them talking in a seemingly dire manor, and were about to cry.

I asked what was wrong, and they said that they received a bill for the security and if they don't pay, they will shut down the show. What was the provision in the contract you signed for security, "I don't know, I was told everything was included ... But apparently not security."

I could only say, "It is never what is said, but what you read before you signed the contract," a lot hadn't occurred to them. I immediately stopped drinking, and within ten minutes the whole event was shut down and everyone was kicked out, which I felt was for the best. The women were upset because they kept all their money, and said they will sue for the security money.

I told them I feel that is best, and tell them to bring it on, as regardless they too violated the contract for not allowing the performance to go on. I recommended they get a lawyer and do what they can to shut the place down.

Because the race, the bus stop was moved to Baltimore Street, as a person I gave a dollar too advised me just how great Social Security Disability is because of his smoking pot and being a complete burnout, they got him covered; it made me wonder why I worked for a living. I was more than happy to give the money I had for drinking to the mothers to help them and the band out.

But talking about a Gran Prix! Our bus driver set an all time record himself, and the bus was speeding up, hitting the breaks to stop and people and things were flying. I made to my house easily, in have the time and while off of the bus, I still had the sensation of the speed!

As soon as I got home I checked the Dubai Nightclub out and found out it has a very checkered past, noted for violence and drug use. They had also just recently changed its name to attempt to get a better reputation, but still had the same owners. Over the internet, I gave this information to the moms in order help them out, to fight any lawsuits and possibly initiate one themselves to get back the money they put into it.

But such it is with rock bands, and with the way my father felt it best to be an impediment with anything that I attempted to do; I could only laud those mothers for the love and support they gave their son's band. I haven't been able to get to any of their other events, but for a local band, they are playing some great gigs and have quite a reputation these days.

With my money and time situation, and the fact of bars and some of the hassles I experienced, I sort of put dealing with the local bands on the back burner, but still managed to make many friends that remember me. Most notable is Jay from Wasabi! I also heard them on 98ROCK's morning show and had to go to their performance to ironically meet their mother, "Wasabi Mom!" as she was a complete cut up.

Jay is also a sushi chef, so we got to talking as I just purchased some Japanese cookbooks and I mentioned just how hard it is to find the ingredients and received a lot of respect when I mentioned I might have to create my own.

I found it a trip, to have two small packages were exchanged from his bass' case to my hands, and if the police witnessed this, wouldn't know what to do about the, katsuobushi; dried flakes of tuna fish that is used in miso soup and put on rice. I had to preserve this moment in a poem titled, "No Reservations," to also lay a little tribute to Anthony Bourdain and the quests foodie loving people find themselves in.

To some extent, I got involved with TV shows, but like with the 98ROCK Morning Show, they at first seem to revere the fans they start with, but later as their audience grow; tends to hold them with a little contempt. I loved the show, "No Reservations," and couldn't wait for Anthony Bourdain to come to Baltimore.

Then he did ... And I found his inclusion of Baltimore's food in the Rustbelt episode to the totally horrible. It was all based around The Wire, and showed a Pit Beef stand on Baltimore's infamous Block (East Baltimore Street), a seafood place that didn't even serve steamed blue crabs, but king crab legs, as well a soul food place.

I mentioned my unhappiness on his blog, and some member named, "Swamp Rat," said, "I felt the producers did a wonderful job as it was to link Baltimore's food to The Wire."

I replied, "All the producers did, was a wonderful promotion for The Wire, and no where did they come close to accurately depicting what Baltimore's food is all about." I then got a pretty good blow off, which made me decide to get into a poetic food fight with Anthony, posting on his Facebook page, a reminder of myself and the latest foodie poem, which was divided between the foods I loved, and the restaurants I enjoy(ed) eating at.

The food poetry for this was also a wonderful an adventure, but more or less a photographic one. I loved steamed crabs, but wanted to show they are actually blue when alive. It was a bit of a trick or treat to figure out and pose a live one with a bag of steamed one's, but provided me with wonderful closing line, which I was teased about when reaching in to get a steamed crab. Then the poor model got thrown into a pot to add with the rest for the poem about crab soup.

Then my father's barbecue, which was far from an epicurean delight as it just hit the palatable range. My father's version of medium rare steak was everyone's well done one, and I would have to fight him for the fork to turn it over at the right time. I had to illustrate what I liked about it, and even using a three foot dop stick to light it off, I burned all the hair off of my arm.

If a show captured my attention, I tended to honor it with a poem and like my poetic works with 98ROCk, usually only received a lukewarm response. The ghost shows were something else, and I thought I caught one doing something that created an appearance of a haunting, but had to apologize and got a hearty thanks from them for my honesty.

With another, they used the same equipment for outdoor hauntings . I suggested they modify their camera traps to full spectrum and include an EMF trigger; I just thought they would get a lot more that way. Also with some occurrences, I made my observations known given my experience with nature photography.

Then the Dead Files came along, with Amy as a physical medium and Steve as a former homicide detective, and both investigated independently. I was shocked that I had a few answers and theories for what they didn't understand and was amazed at just how many vibes I got though the TV. In one case, Amy identified what she had sketched as a, "Gremlin thing," when by all appearances, I felt it was a shaman from an Indian tribe when the settlers arrived. I recognized the perceived mask as actually being cut from a live tree before being finished out.

Another show Oddities sent me to other people I felt was interesting, but there too one felt appreciated at first, then relegated with a certain disdain as you got to know more about them. It made me appreciate my own audience and fans, differentiating between them and supporters helped me a lot, and organized the best use of my limited time.

(Continued in next chapter)