Saturday, December 24, 2011

Getting lost and found

It's the day before Christmas and there are no mice around. It's still very quiet. My loved one is asleep and I am thinking of the past year. Not a great one in some respects. I've already written about how my post traumatic stress disorder got completely beyond my control to the point where one Saturday in late September, I simply and angrily wrote "I am very angry and I am an idiot", then went to sleep. I knew I had to do something and that was to get to Lynda Steel, an incredible woman, who had helped me get sober and taught me so much. In retrospect if I had actually stayed at her Project Reovery Inc, my Chevy pick up would be working as I would never have got stuck in Barstow, N. California. Where two Triple A Autoclub accredited companies; Barstow Towing and Barstor Fuel 76 (who wrecked my engine) conspired to steal it. A problem I have yet to find a solution for. And Los Angeles is not fun without a car to get around in. However, I had such an adventure getting to Project Recovery Inc. My sense of direction is not the best in L.A. where at least I recognize horizons; and out there on the freeways on my way to Salt Lake City, I managed to take a wrong turn in Nevada and ended up in Arizona. The initial part of my journey was frightening. My ptsd was bad, my panio attacks were awful. I had an ear infection and the sound of the trucks aggravated that, and combined with panic attacks sent me off the freeway in fear and flight many times. Usually, I try to get off at an exit, however, the side of the freeway will do if necessary until I can calm myself down and get back on the road again. One fear and flight happened just before an exit and unconcerned where it would lead me I left the freeway, just desperate to get off. I drove around quiet country road between 3-4 a.m. in the morning and at crossroad, I came across a small village of pebbled roads and neat trailers. It seemed a good place to take a nap. Driving very slowly and quietly through it to an end of one road, I found myself looking at the one place in all the world I have wanted to visit since reading about The Hopi Tribe in one of James Mitchener's books. I had arrived at Black Rock. Black Rock is the Spiritual Home of The Hopi Tribe and there it was. A dark velvet gray mountain range with a crystal clear sky; the sun coming up in the west, a bright silver gold and the pale white ghostly moon waning in the east. The many stars were so bright overhead; and above the range as if suspended, shimmered a silver cross. Or Silver Eagle as I learned it's also referred to. Immense peace came to me; I was in awe. All fear left me and I knew who I was again. I atayed there for at leaast an hour, sketching; and hope that I will be able to paint a picture and capture some of the magic I witnessed. I was fine; I'd found me again. I could have driven back to L.A., however, I had made a commitment to Lynda and nher daughter, Leah and I continued my route to Salt Lake City. Plus, I wanted to see my sister and her family who live there. Of course, I was not surprised to find myself several hours later on the other side of the Black Rock mountain range! This time in a parking area, with trucks and other cars. Here I met Chas from Georgia; a truck driver, who kindly brought out his map and we wrote specific freeways to follow. To no avail, I got lost again and I am not sure where, except that yet again a truck driver from Wisconsin helped me. He also used his own rope to more securely tie down the tarpaulin that was a constant parachute in my rear mirror. At rhw beginning of August I decided to finally apply for American Citizenship, at which point I learned that women are not equal under the USA Constitution. I was totally horrified and guess that I had never noticed because I came here equal under British law and assumed the same applied in the US. I decided to take a sample poll with the simple question (no political affiliation asked for), "Do you believe women should be equal under the US Constitution". Continuing to get lost, or at least uncertain whether I was on the correct route, I stopped a lot, including to get gas and something to eat. I calculate I met around 300 people before I arrived back in LA, and all but 5 answered yes. I was particularly fortunate at one Comfort Inn; where a very kind young woman also let me charge my sell phone; to meet a tourist coach party having breakfast. They were from all over the States. I asked the same question at each stop, consequently my poll was pretty accurate in terms of the country's population and I believe it's reasonable to state that between 90-95% believe women should be equal under the Constitution. An aside, however, learning The Constitution in preparation for my Citizenship, I find it surprising to learn that women were equal under the original 10 Bill of Rights, as they refer to a President being impeached, as he or she. Odd to ponder that we all came here in search of freedom and as the Constitution developed, groups were excluded then included again, until we are left with only women not being equal. However, President Obama will correct this. Back to my unplanned road trip. For the first time since I moved to this country in 1978, I was among "normal" Americans, not ones from the entertainment business and there are great people in this country. Everyone I asked for help from, gave it willingly and I learned so much. There are people suffering from the economy, yet they work hard and do not complain. Why should I complain about a childhood and adolescence that I cannot much remember; except for the good times; and let it affect me now. I do not remember all of the names of the people I met, however, I remember the tall African American Walker brothers from Texas who helped me get back into my Chevy after I locked my keys and the spare set in it. Kasey; originally from Persia; who I met in Ontario and who kindly tried to find the nail I thought was in one of my tires. He and I had a great political discussion and I learned a very different story of why the Shah of Persia was forced to abdicate. He asked me to help him write his life story, which I hope to be able to do. There was Denise Polido who worked at a Daybreak Inn, who was so kind and caring and I wrote in my quasi journal "calmed me down". Wendy, Joyce, Brandon and their pekenese Violet who I met in Territorial, when I stayed at their inn. There I also saw Monezuma's Castle, a National Monument well worth visiting and you can learn some of America's history and the ranges built up over millions of years. I met so many, many kind people. I had time to listen to the radio, NPR and the BBC and learned so much. I finally ended up at Project Recovery Inc and still feel guilty that Leah in particular worried about me taking so long to get there, with my getting lost so many times. Getting lost, however, helped me find myself again.

An Unexpected Journey and A Cautionary Tale

I set off for Salt Lake City on September 2, to enter Project Recovery, as my post traumatic stress disorder had gone way beyond my control.
I had tried various other ways to calm that (ptsd group, church and bible study,and 12 step meetings) and my panic attacks and depression, but had become a human yo yo. Swinging from manic to suicidal. Sometimes it was hysterically funny, and I would accordingly laugh at myself! Other times, I would simply break down and cry.
Sadly, I managed to alienate my immediate family, although some have forgiven me.
The increase in my post traumatic stress disorder (as well as loss of appetite, or binge ice cream eating and the return of horrible nightmares) was a steady incline from my first ever serious car accident(42 years of driving and only minor dings and scrapes to that point, plus one of my friends, a UK police constable had taught me as well as a boat builder and other friends - anyone except my adored Dad or my ex husband)on September 9, 2008 at approximately 1.25 p.m. on my way to a therapy session.
Craig Ferguson's wife, Megan Cunningham Reid, literally drove into my car in a Continental Navigator, while I was waiting for the traffic lights to change on Beverly Boulevard and Curson. I was looking to the traffic light on my right,so all damage done to that side, plus pelvis. I have persevered and corrected my body using the exercises given to me by Max Pohomac, MD, a lovely, lovely man,who really cares about his patients. As do his delightful staff. Practise (323) 244-4763 6200 Wilshire Boulevard, Los Angeles, CA 90038
Fortunately, I was driving a Volvo Station Wagon, otherwise I think that my passenger and I would have been seriously injured and my beloved companion dog,a beautiful German Shepherd, Anita (laying on the back seat)possibly killed.
I only drove that car a few more times, as it was too much of a reminder of the accident.
And people in LA in their SUV's believe they are invincible!
For the second (the first was in a banger car race, where the first go around, I was so slow, I was lapped! However, in the demolition Derby at the end with 32 cars on the track - and provoked by mechanics after I had ended up in the middle of the track, who suggested I just go off again and hit a car - which I did, and ended up being one of the last three cars,facing the MD of EMI Records) time in my life,I was hit so hard, I thought the world had collapsed. I saw Jason thrown backwards and forwards,his hands against the glove compartment.
Both Megan and I moved towards each other, each of us asked if the other was okay. Megan is very kind young woman. Craig is very fortunate. And he is also a fine actor and screen writer - his "Saving Grace" had me in laughter from beginning to the end, especially the scene in a British tiny grocery store where two old ladies have drunk what they think is herbal tea, and it is, however, of the kind one may occasionally smoke.
Anyway, back to my journey - and the car accident that started off the journey.
Well, I was stupid. I negotiated some money for the damage to Jason's elbow from hitting the glove compartment and that was paid within 4 weeks. I negotiated the money for the damage to my Volvo, which Farmers Insurance (a company I very much dislike, but not their insurance agent) also accepted and I would have received that quickly, BUT, I made a mistake!
I phoned a lawyer (who I once admired and trusted) having decided I needed a lawyer! And they recommended one. A friend of their wife's.
I am told by said lawyer that they will file the complaint against Farmers in December 2008. Sounded reasonable to me.
But do they file in December - no - they do not. They do not file until February of 2010!!
My Deposition is not taken until July 2010, now I am faced with Mediation or a trial in 2011.

I was confident that psychotherapist, Lynda Steele would be able to help me as she had when I had entered Cirque Lodge in its early days in November 1999.






How funny, of course I remain genuine and unique.
I too have been manic and diverted from what I had intended to do. My attempt to get people to sign my petition for Equal Rights for women under the USA Constitution have so far not done very well. For lots of reasons, however, not through my lack of persistence.
I have spent hours and hours per day since I set up the Petition on The White House Pages Petitions.
I have raised my internet presence so much, that yesterday, the influential Huffington Post awarded me no 1 profile.
And as you know, seeking fame was never my thing. I've only ever given a few interviews and then only to people I trust would not make such a big thing of the fact that I am a woman.
I have certainly used every marketing skills I've learned over many years and in different businesses (do you know that I have run companies since I was 18/19 (with only 2 o'levels) - and I suppose if I wanted to I could continue to be high profile!
Are you coming over for any particular reason?

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

LIVING WITH DEPRESSION AND POST TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER

Thanks Maureen, I do remember being horrified at the the thought of Regan becoming President, and how absurd I thought that was, but my mind is a complete blank when it comes to women's rights. That probably was the year I spent a lot of time avoiding going into the office as much as possible because Sal Licata was President of the record company. I seem to remember a fixation with soap operas. Sal's method of running the company was to divide and rule. And while I didn't know that at the time, Chrysalis was my "family" and it was falling apart just as my own family had; almost birth through adolescence. At the moment I am battling depression and post traumatic stress disorder. The depression in part due to taking antibiotics for an ear infection and I have to see a ENT doc to sort that out, and have procrastinated about this for I don't know how long and I don't particularly know why. I have finally pin pointed the start date of the increase in ptsd. It has gathered in momentum since I was rear ended on September 9th at 1:25 pm by a 2 ton Continental Navigator and looking right to the traffic light on the corner of Curson and Beverly Boulevard heading west to see my psychiatrists. Anyway, the ptsd reached such a point that I was a human yo yo, one minute laughing at myself; and the next almost suicidal. I was going to go to a clinic for what I originally thought was 30 days, but found out that it was a 3 month commitment and couldn't arrange a place for my boyfriend to be close to me there. And now I stop because I am sitting here with so many thoughts running through my head again. I have not put anything on Facebook today because of the Texas fires. I don't know why, but I thought it insensitive to do so. However, I would very much like to use your email first thing in the morning pm Facebook. If you prefer to reman anonymous, I can exclude your name. Anyway, I still have to find out how to get 25 friends to join the page, and am finding the instructions on how to do this practically incomprehensible. I am not sure whether this is deliberate so that I pay for an ad or what. I may well challenge FB again, as I have done previously; when they removed posts I started putting the era issue on there. Their executive board has only one woman on it. I am tweeting ERA fairly regularly and may do that after I understand more about the Texas fires. I also intend to find out how many women died in the 9/11 disaster. And that would also be a day to calculate how much money was lost since I know the AIDs LA office closed that day. I didn't know about the disaster, because I was having another period of not listening to or watching the news, because I personally find the news here so skewed. I do remember wondering why the streets were so deserted on my way to the office and on seeing a note on the door; that the office was closed and thought that a member of staff had died. But I knocked on the door anyway, and there was someone there and he told me what had happened and I thought he was joking. Sadly; is an inadequate adverb; he was watching the news because he had a friend who worked at the World Trade Centre. I think that was the only time I have ever watched the news all day, because it was simply unbelievable; and I could not comprehend how evil people can be. Anyway, I have rambled on enough. Please let me know if it's okay to put your company's actions regarding ERA. It occurs to me that there would have been more women working in the publishing company in exec positions, than the record company?? Also I think Chuck had left by then and Lance was in charge? My lawyer wanted me to interview for Lance's job, but I decided I couldn't because Lance was a friend and he deserved the job. And I'm an still kicking myself for not accepting Joe Smith's offer to start the publishing companies for Electra/Asylum/Nonesuch. My loyalty was not rewarded. I'd love to see you again soon? Ann 323 461 1722

Monday, July 18, 2011

Well a glutton for punishment - I am not

I am actually going to write another blog just to complain.
The last two blogs I wrote would not publish, nor could they be saved. And as I can't remember what I wrote about they couldn't have been that interesting!
I have reached another phase in my ever changing life. I realised that my friends actually know me better than the majority of my family.
And while my friends actually like me because they know me, certain family members don't, and they don't know me either, which makes it rather ironic that they don't like me. Because how can you dislike someone if you don't know them? Unless they're Hitler or Cheyne or Pot Pol or other similar evil people.
And I realised that their not liking me, is absolutely fine with me, because I don't actually like either of them,and I do know them because I've bothered to get to know them, though they don't know me and haven't even bothered to get to know me.
I still love them, or rather love who they used to be; and would not wish any harm to come to either of them, however, have no interest in ever seeing either one of them again.
And it isn't as if I haven't tried to like them, because I have.
But how do you like a bully? And how do you like somone so self centred that they think everything revolves around them and who likes to have status symbol cars. Give me 4 wheels and a reasonable engine and chassis and I am happy to get from A to B.

Saturday, May 28, 2011

My art site http://annmunday.fineartstudioonline.com/

When I was young, aside from reading greedily anything I could get my hands on, I loved to create. Made my first dress from a curtain when I was 8. Was pretty inventive, and was good at most subjects in school until adolescence when my first stepmother's violent physical and worse, emotional abuse, took me from being in the top 5 in most subjects to nowhere. Apparently (and I studied psychology in my 40's), abuse affects your powers of concentration. I had been taught by my Dad (a Chess Master)before the age of 9, how to beat him at chess. So while I can still play chess, I can't keep my mind focused sufficiently more than about 3 moves ahead.
Regardless, I still ended up as one of the most senior and well known women in the music industry particularly in the US and the the UK, and most of the rest of the world. Was the first woman, the youngest person and I believe the first European to be nominated for the ASCAP Board of Directors in 1983 when I was only 34 (10 years earlier I had run Elton's and Bernie's music publishing companies in the UK.
Giving up alcohol after my father's death in 1992, I had a nervous breakdown. The wall between depression, post traumatic stress disorder and panic attacks came down. Li safe became unbearable.
However, as I slowly recovered, I started to paint again. I'd wanted to go to art college from school, where I was top in art, but evil stepmother (yes, the ones you find in fairy tales)wouldn't allow it. So I did jobs that were art related and somehow that landed me in the music industry.
I had great fun and am writing an autobiography about my experience working in the music business boys' club; and am enjoying doing that, as I've always loved writing and reading.
However, art was my first passion and is that now. I chose watercolours because I know that they are the hardest medium to master (my partner, Jason does so - just naturally. It's taken a while to get to where I am now, a lot of practice, and a lot of patience.
Art is rewarding and no matter what you do, you keep on learning. It's also addictive and I'd rather be doing that more than anything else (except for Voice Overs as I'd prefer not to be a starving painter) and I just keep getting better.
My latest piece is 20" x 16" and was commissioned by a really kind and caring man, Michael Peter Dedes of We Focus on Life, who I met when I visited the UK in February/March. It's a serene watercolour and full of mystic and I can honestly say it's the first piece I am really proud of. I learned a huge amount painting it, and Jason helped me when I kept looking at it, and knowing something wasn't quite right, but not what. So take a look if you have time. http://annmunday.fineartstudioonline.com/

Monday, April 25, 2011

Tom (Thomas Aaron) Bolan

I first met Tom, when I (was Senior Vice President and responsible for establishing The Chrysalis Music Group USA) in New York January of 1983, when I interviewed him for the job of Copyright Manager. I had interviewed a lot of people, and Tom and I just clicked and I knew that he and I would work well together.


I was on my way to Cannes to attend Midem, and we continued the interview in my hotel room, and as he often enjoyed reminding me was handing me this or that bra. He got the job.


And so began a long, long and very close friendship, that had a few gaps in it, as life took us in different directions.


Tom's first task was to come to LA and organize moving all of the copyright and legal files to New York. He stayed with me at my 3 bedroomed apartment, and amused me a great deal when he decided one morning; that in his rental car he could beat me to the LA office. I was driving a shift BMW, and aside from the fact that I knew LA really well, and all the short cuts, I knew he stood no chance, however, found it amusing that he was prepared to challenge his new boss to a race!


I knew that Tom was gay from the first moment I met him (I have lots of gay friends), however, could not understand at all why he was pretending not to be. Decided to solve this by taking him out for dinner at my faourite restaurant, Le Dome, where he saw lots of celebrities, which he enjoyed. Some time during the dinner, I just asked if he had a boyfriend and what was his name and what was he like. So that solved that difficulty!


Tom's ability to arrive at the office on time in the morning was practically never, and his many excuses were always amusing. Also, he never had a simple health problem, something in his eye, would become an enbolism, a headache, a tumor and I learned that you can get a hangover from too much msg! What is that I asked, well it comes from eating too much Chinese food!


We had a truly unpleasant man, Jack Craigo, as President of Chrysalis Records (and if not for Terry Ellis breaking his word, I would have been President of The Chrysalis Music Group USA and not reported to Craigo) and he constantly complained to me about Tom's tardiness in the mornings. But then, Craigo complained about almost everything! Anyway, my response to Craigo, was that as Tom is prepared to work long hours past the hour of leaving in the evening; and come over to my apartment at weekends when necessary; to sort out a contract or copyright matter, I am fine with him being late in the morning. That ended that problem.


Tom's apartment was not too far from mine on the upper Westside and I was astounded at how much he had managed to fit into such a small place, including a piano. We often enjoyed a curry on a Sunday at my apartment.


I also had the pleasure of meeting his mother several times, who I understand tried to persuade Tom to marry me and in fact Tom did eventually ask me to marry him some time in the 2000's, as he wanted me to be taken care of. Mary was a very lovely and fine lady, who kindly crocheted a blanket for me and a beautiful lace collar, both of which I still have.


I hated shopping, however, there are times when you need clothes and Tom delighted in his story of being with me in the original New York Norma Kamali store, when an assistant came up to him and asked if he was looking for something in particular. As Tom was over 6' tall and a sturdy man, his response that "I don't think you'll have anything to fit me", was apt. In fact, I dragged him off shopping many times and he never minded at all.


I also met his lovely friend Geoffrey, and he and I became friends too. In fact, Tom told me some time much later that Geoff had wanted to marry me.


At Chrysalis, Tom was basically my right hand, and Tina Makris my left hand.


Tom was highly intelligent and a great asset to the company and for me. He was, however, dumbfounded at my memory. He knew that if he were to ask me a question about a provision or question about any of our many contracts, I would be able to give him the answer immediately.


He took me to my first opera in New York (I had been to one before, however, I think I was about 8), and was a little embarrassed that I kept laughing; apparently not something you do unless the opera is amusing. However, I found the fact that a cast member who died in the first act, appeared in the second, and that all of the actors dressed in Chinese outfits were wearing sneakers just plain funny!


We were a big part of each other's lives in New York.


I left the company in 1985, having finally had enough of Jack Craigo and his disrespect for people in general, his unpleasant manner and his haughtiness. I think the only time he was vaguely amusing was when he had a glass of wine or a joint.


Tom and I did meet up in London one time during his visit there, however, it wasn't a particularly enjoyable evening as one of the other guests was a self opinionated idiot who was head of some green party.


When I returned to LA in 1997, to help my brother, Tom and I caught up with each other again, although I can't remember how. He had now gone to law school and got a degree in that and I was really proud of him; in addition to his music degree from one of the top music colleges. He has played me some of his compositions and they are wonderful. We fell back into our easy friendship very quickly.


I shall be forever grateful that he helped and supported me often when I could not understand what my brother's lawyer was up to. We soon agreed that whatever it was, it wasn't good. Eventually, I was able to demonstrate to my brother exactly how bad his lawyer was, when he nearly went to jail for contempt of court and Tom found the best family lawyers, with one of the principle partners, a court appointed member of a Legal Children's Rights Group. And he always lent me his ear, when I got frustrated at how badly my brother was handling the custody battle in particular; since it involved two young girls and my ex sister in law is a sociopath.


I also got to meet his mother again when she came to visit him, and just as she was when I first met her, a lovely woman who adored her son.


Tom, unfortunately got into drugs. And I am no saint, having done them myself when I lived in New York. However, he did get into trouble and was eventually arrested and put in the LA County Jail, a very unpleasant place to be. Another so called friend, Cynthia Blatt; a woman I had also worked with at Chrysalis in New York, and whom I simply do not like nor respect and neither did Tom; wanted to leave him there. But I could not do this. And was able to post bail of $10,000 and went and collected him from the County Jail.


When Tom's beloved mother became sick, Tom went off to Opp, Alabama and as best as I could, I listened to him whenever he called and helped as much as I could, including paying his electricity bill, when I had barely enough money of my own. He repaid me.


Sadly, his mother's death increased his drug taking and although his taking drugs is not funny, his behaviour often was. He would call me and whisper into the phone and ask me to come over, where I would find him behind closed curtains surrounded by boxes, which he had not yet unpacked. And tell me that people were watching him. Whenever I drove him anywhere, he would point out that the adjacent car had a microphone. One really silly moment was in a drug store on Santa Monica Boulevard where we had gone to a pharmacy for him to pick something up. He disappeared and I was left standing there trying to look interested in all the health foods around for 20 minutes and being chatted up by a woman. Enough was enough; and I used my cell phone to call his cell phone and ask what on earth was he doing! He reappeared, asked me to pretend to faint and he would help me out of the pharmacy. No, I will not. We then had to drive up a street leading to nowhere, with him telling me that all the helicopters above were following him. Well, there are always loads of helicopters flying around LA and I had now had more than enough and demanded to know where he wanted me to take him. Which I did.

I persuaded him to get into a rehab, and took him there. It was an awful place and I particularly did not respect the owner, so I was not surprised when he showed up on my doorstep with his belongings. The rehab had already phoned me and advised me not to help him. But I could not leave him on the streets and so he came to live with my family, even sharing my bed until his snoring was keeping me awake so often, that I had to decide he needed to sleep on our sofa bed in our living room. He would often take Vanessa, the youngest one to school in his open top Toyata Celica, dance music blaring loudly, which she enjoyed and turning up at school in an open topped sports car.


In 2003, my ex friend, country singer Carlene Carter was in trouble, as her partner, Howie Epstein of over 10 years had died and not left a will, and Howie's ugly brothers (he and I had dinner one time, and he had told me how they only called him when they wanted something from him - very sad) were trying to take everything away from her, including a property she co owned with Howie in New Mexico. Tom did all he could to help her, and help me help her and I was very grateful for his help and advice. She never thanked him.


When Carlene was evicted from the house she shared with Howie in LA, I became a housekeeper for 3 months for a lovely old man in Beverly Hills. But his former housekeeper returned from living with her daughter in another state, and I was now homeless.


Tom took me in, together with my beloved German shephed, Anita and we lived together until about 2005 or perhaps later. During this time, we managed to sort out his sleep apnea (I'd kept nagging him about it, because my brother has the same and I knew the symptoms) when he finally fell into a cabinet and I cradled his head covered in blood waiting for the paramedics. He finally took care of his sleep apnea. Tom was a bit of a hypochondriac, which I knew already from working with him in New York, nevertheless I knew when he was really ill, and freqently took him to Cedars Sinai hospital late at night and stayed with him until he was treated and brought him home, or visited him if he had to stay.


He introduced me to Stephen King novels and films, as I thought that I didn't like Stephen King's work and I became a huge fan. And I am still reading one of his books that Tom gave me just before I went off to the UK. We had so much fun watching so many movies together, often with Anita joining us on his sofa. She would start by sitting, however, before not too long she would be stretched out and Tom and I would be perched on either end of his sofa!


I would also help Tom with his court filings, which he would get into a complete panic about and needed my help to calm him down and sort the papers into order as well as proof read them for him and make suggestions. Some of which he followed and others, he didn't. I also appeared in court for him, when one of his clients, Stuart Katsch (Tom grew to loathe him as he felt used for his legal expertise, and while Stuart paid him for some of the work, I am not sure he was ever really fully compensated) decided he was going to stay an extra few days in France with a boyfriend and pretend to be sick. I won the case, following Tom's directions, although I have to admit that the Judge was taken by my English accent.


There were two things I disliked intensely. His love of Wagner's opera's and his shopping at Cosco. One Wagnerian opera (The Ring I think) was truly, truly awful, in fact so awful, I became mesmerized to see how much more awful it could get (he did eventually admit to me that it was a very bad production!). Shopping at Cosco was an ordeal, with him wandering up and down the files for at least an hour, sometimes longer. I did share his love of Dr Who and Torchwood (and after moving into where I now live) when visiting him, we would watch these together. Although he would always try and get me to watch another of his collection of musicals, most of which I never liked. Musicals in general, not being to my taste.

He encouraged me in my pursuit of my dream to be a watercolor painter, and had two of my early paintings proudly displayed with other items he was proud of. And he also asked me to marry him again, so that I would get his widow's benefit, which was such a kind and caring offer.

We grieved together over the loss of his lovely friend, Geoffrey, and I visted him more often and we sat and he shared his memories of his friend and I listened to his grief and consoled him as best as I could.

With his bad foot making it impossible for him to drive, I took him to the bank whenever he needed that, his doctor's appointments (sadly, I had taken him to his HIV doctor the week before he died, and he was so excited that his HIV count was so low, that it was almost undetectable), local shopping and other errands he need to do. And Cosco! However, he had learned to shop more quickly, thank goodness. I would go over, when he was depressed and get him out of bed and get him moving. He enjoyed the company of my boyfriend, Jason, who he was kind to and accepted; and that was special to Jason, as he suffers with severe anxiety disorder, and Tom was one of the very few people he'd visit. So Jason misses him as well.

I was alone in the UK (my family had gone off skiing 3 days after I arrived, leaving me in charge of their ducks and chickens, and a puppy Labrador, Holly, which is another blog), when I received the email that Tom had died and I simply didn't know what to do. I was absolutely devastated. I felt really guilty that I had not been in LA still. One, because I had promised him he would never die alone; which he was so afraid of; and afraid for his beloved cats, which I promised him would not go back to the shelter he got them from (two of them I think, sadly have) and two, because if I had been here, I would immediately have gone over and taken him to the hospital. I knew Tom so well, that I could judge when he just needed company, or was sick and needed help. I would not have just called 911. A friend is a friend is a friend. Also, he had made me his agent in his Healthcare Directive and told me what he wanted, a privilege and an honor he gave to me. He is in mine.

I miss Tom very much and am still grieving over his passing. I enjoyed so many of our conversations, and visiting him and now whenever I drive near where he lived, I think of him more and have come to avoiding the area.

I am devastated at what Tom's so called friends have done to me, and know that he would be too. He had so often talked about what he would leave me; what was most precious to him; his rosewood cabinets and the semi precious stones, and his mother's punch bowl and cups.

Tom grew to loathe calls from either Cynthia Blatt or Stuart Katsch, as he just felt used by them for his legal expertise. I was often present when he would not take their calls. He was always afraid for his friend, Rick Soares, who drinks. One time, when still living with Tom, I had to drive miles to the beach to collect Rick because he was so drunk. And when Rick recently lost his license for a DUI, he was relieved that his friend would no longer be at risk driving.

Rick Soares lied to me in an email, telling me that I had not been included in Tom's will, and I only learned that I was, when the LA Public Authority phoned me to tell me. I cannot think of why Rick would lie about something he knew would hurt me. Not because of not getting anything, but that Tom had forgotten about me. I don't believe he did.

While I was in the UK, Rick emailed me for all sorts of information, that I knew and he didn't; and didn't care that that only added to my pain of losing Tom.

When I returned to LA, Rick called me and told me that he and Cynthia had gone through Tom's belongings and they had left some of them for me. It was hard for Jason and I to go over to Tom's apartment, however, it was even harder and made me cry when I saw what they had left for me. A kitchen trash bin, a rolling pin, mismatched cutlery, glasses, and basically just trash (Rick had even had the nerve to ask me to take what I didn't want to an AIDS goodwill store), nothing of any value at all and so I left most of it. There are a few things that I took, because I recognized them as coming from his mother; some made by her, which I thought his beloved cousin, Katherine (he often spoke to me about her and we had planned to go an visit his house in Alabama and I was looking forward to meeting her). He had told me of his difficult childhood, his hard grandfather and his other relations that wouldn't accept him because he was gay.

I cannot do much for Tom now and the only thing I can do as a blood donor, is donate blood in his memory at Cedars Sinai, where I had taken him so often and this I shall do.

Tom, I shall always remember you, your memory will not fade. I will remember our laughing together so often, our sharing Chinese meals, pizzas and watching films together. I shall remember your wit and your intellect, your helping my family (even if you did have me do errands for you in return - that was fair) and all the fun we had.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

My art, my passion and voice overs

Well, I have spent the day trying to 1. sort out my room, which is still a mess from travelling - it's a little clearer, however, I seem to only have one trainer! 2. finishing off a drawing and 3. uploading art to my first professional art site http://annmunday.fineartstudio.com, which was time consuming, however, rewarding as I went through what I have accomplished and see that I am constantly improving. Art is an addiction for me, and if left alone, would paint and draw all of the time. I am pretty pleased with myself. Except that I still have several paintings that I have to matt, and I hate matting, so find all manner of other things to do, to avoid what I must eventually do!! Yesterday, I also took the plunge into the voice over world and added four recordings that were made some years ago. http://annmunday.voice123 According to a voice over agent I met during my trip to the UK, my voice is English rose, which sounds rather lovely. The recordings are not quite what they should be, however, lovely Art Munson, a songwriter and a friend since I moved to LA in the late 70s, has said he'll record some more with me, when he has finished with his project. I would love to read audio books. And I did enjoy recording text books for Reading for the Deaf and Dyslexic and if gas was not so expensive, would help out again, although I do wonder what the reader must think when he or she suddenly finds an English voice in the middle of the text book they are reading. My trip to the UK now seems so far away, however, my brother emailed me some photos today and I have some lovely ones with my gorgeous two nephews and my lovely brother and his wife, Becky, who is just one amazing woman. Their home is beautiful and I have written about that trip in another blog. Enjoyed a good political debate via Facebook, a thread that never seems to end, or hasn't yet. So Saturday evening draws close and I need to go to the store and get some bits and pieces.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Re creating a life

I have just finished responding to the daughter, Sara of my father's best friend, Chris Button, who remembers that I used to wear long high heeled boots. She remembers so much about the house my other part of Dad's family lived in, when they returned from France (I was living in Los Angeles by then) and reminded me of the white carpet. Dad used to call me the sugar plum elephant, and for some reason I often was clumsy around him, so it will not surprise you to learn that I knocked over a glass of red wine on said white carpet.

Anyway, Sara's message started a train of thought, which meanders through many aspects, so bear with me.

Yesterday, my father would have been 84 and he died 20 years ago this coming May. I still miss him and it's a little difficult for me to realise that I have been trying to re-create a life since he died, and my world fell apart. He would be horrified if he knew how his son, David has used me (I turned down a job running a publishing company to help him), taken my money, destroyed my furniture (much of which were antiques) and helped him (he had no idea how to deal with lawyers, and his first one nearly landed him in contempt of court, so with the help of a friend, we found one of the best family law firms in Los Angeles) keep his two daughters out of the hands of a sociopath mother, but now refuses to talk to me, even though I have offered him peace messages twice.

With my mother's death when I was 5, my Dad was a wounded man, yet he somehow managed to find the will power to carry on. I don't believe he ever got over missing her. She was his first love. I wrote the epitaph for his grave stone "He was a remarkable man".

Deborah Fehin, was an Irish Roman Catholic and Dad, was a British Church of England, and neither of their families wanted them to marry. Dad had to wait until he was 21 before their wedding. And I arrived almost 9 moths to the day. Thank goodness I was not early, because eyebrows would have been raised! My brother David, came along 15 months later, and I used to spend quite a lot of time with my Aunt Dorothy, Dad's eldest half sister, her husband, Uncle Syd and my gorgeous cousin, Stewart. Stewart must have been about 7 when he had to share his bedroom with a small child, and we were always close. He was absolute gorgeous looking. A cross between Fabian of the US TV show 77 Sunset Strip (?), Elvis and British equivalent, Cliff Richard, however, honestly much better looking than any of the three. He inevitably had a smile on his face. Sadly, he died a few years ago, and his mother died just after her 70th birthday last year. She was beautiful too and they both had amazing twinkling blue eyes. Dorothy would chatter away and I have to say that I was sometimes mischievous and would say something outrageous, such as "Prince Charles has just land his helicopter in the garden", however, she would not pause.

A lovely, kind woman, and her husband, Uncle Syd was kind too (he only just missed living until he was 100), although had a habit of saying the wrong thing.

I have lost so many people who loved me. My Aunt Tricia, who died in 1999, and was the closest I ever had to having a mother, as well being one of my best friends.


These days, life is tough. I have gone from having a very successful, although not well paid career in the music business. I established The Chrysalis Music Group (and as one of only 3 Senior Vice Presidents with responbilities for all aspects of the record company as well, was paid only $35,000 a year, plus expense account, and I rarely managed to get back all that I had paid out) as a leading independent music publisher, with hits in pop, r&b, country (one year we received two ASCAP awards and Steve Cropper came up to me afterwards to congratulate me and let me know how unusual that was for a pop publisher). However, for some reason I always did well in Nashville.


Now I live in a Federally funded building on SSI.



I resigned from Chrysalis late in 1984, when Terry Ellis was bought out by Chris Wright, however, was asked to stay on. The explanation given was that they couldn't afford to lose a senior executive and a very high profile one as well, at that time. What they did not explain to me, was that if I had stayed on I would have received shares as they subsequently took the company public. And they needed (as they had many times before) to show that they treated women equally, and I was their only senior woman executive.
So I was cheated by a company I had been loyal to for nearly 10 years. I had turned down Joe Smith's offer to start the publishing companies for Nonesuch, Ayslum/Electra out of loyalty to Chris Wright and Terry Ellis and many other job offers. But they did not return that loyalty. Owen Epstein, US lawyer for U2 and Pat Benatar and who once described me as the most assertive yet rigorously honest negotiators he had dealings with (he had asked me to take a paying job at his firm, and he would put me through law school) offered to sue Chrysalis for sexual harrassment and for inequal treatment, but I was too heart sick to take that on.



I am heartened that I have so many friends who care about me, Franca Cavaricci, being one of them, who even though she is struggling is helping me and whenever we speak on the phone makes me laugh.



I have only recently returned from a trip to the UK, where I had a wonderful time (wrote a separate blog about it), however, learned on the Monday by email after I arrived there on Friday and was alone (my family had gone skiing for a week) that one of my closest friends, Tom Bolan (he was my Copyright Manager at Chrysalis in 1983 and remained a friend since then) had died. If I had been here, I would not have done as one of his so called friends did just call 911, however, would have, as I have many, many times before taken him straight to emergency. And maybe he would have survived if he had got to emergency sooner. The prior week I had taken him to his HIV doctor, and he was elated to learn that his viral load was so low, that he almost had no HIV, so he was healthy. The following week, he was in a panic and I went over to help him as I have many time befores with court papers he was filing for a woman, he detested, Cynthia Blatt - often while I was with him, he would not take her calls, because she constantly badgered him.



Three of Tom's other so called friends, Stuart Katsch (I appeared for him in court, when he should have, but had stayed on in France claiming he was sick and I won the case for him), Cynthia Blatt and lawyer, Rick Soares have taken action, which I can only describe as truly appalling. I was included in his will, which Rick Soares emailed me that I wasn't. A lie that hurt me. I was left the residue of Tom's estate. These three people made sure that that residue was simply trash and I know that was not what Tom would have wanted for me. I shall miss him as he was one of the few people, who with my mental disabilities I saw, and who I helped often as he had lost the cartilege under his left foot and could no longer drive.



I am heartened by the many friends who know me well, and who care about me. Franca Cavaricci being one of them. We make each other laugh about our woes. Cindi Hughes is another.



I paint watercolors now http://annmunday.finearts.com/ and my work is rapidly improving. Several of my paintings have been bought. And I have been offered the opportunity when I have sufficient pieces to have a showing in a local gift basket shop, who have wine tasting evenings.



I am also going into the voice over business http://voice123.com.annmunday , as I have an English rose voice (as described by a V/O agent) and a sensual one (listen to Hard Days Night) to help support me as I progress my art career. I have volunteered and recorded books for The Reading for the Blind and Dyslexic, including describing graphs, footnotes and diagrams.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

The 12 Steps - a design for living

I am not ashamed to accept that I am one of the one in 10 who has an addiction to alcohol. Have to say I had a huge amount of fun, outdrank a lot of men (useful in the music business - they were really annoyed when I'd get the down to the black ball as well) and fortunately, lived to tell the tale and to stop drinking. For me it gave me a design for living that I certainly did't have growing up. That was a design for survival perhaps, its the best I can say about that, except when visiting Ireland and my love Irish grandmother, who just personified love. I went to loys meetings. Was really fortunate to have the help of MU and the Grammy Foundation get me into an amazing rehab, where I learned more about myself than, I could have imagined. Rigorous honesty is one of the cornerstones of the program. Anonymity as to who you see in meetings and what you've heard them say, I absolutely uphold. Anonymity is not a legal right. But what do you do when a man, who professes to have over 19 years of sobriety and is proud of that and that he goes to meetings regularly, lies to you when he sells you a vehicle. Yes, Jim Simpson of Jim Simpson Llc who sells you his fathers pick up truck and lies to you, and does not disclose the full extenet of problems with the vehicle. I am confused as to how you can be rigorously honest, and not be?? An ex sponsor, Angel Schwartz allowed me to stay with her; for a fortunately very short while; when I was homeless. I did a huge amount of preparation and helped her considerably in painting a mural on Hollywood Boulevard at the Horse Carriage Museum. And had to endure Rush Limbaugh every day for ages. I did not paint the brilliant images she did, howwever, I did paint the fence, the foliage and flowers at the bottom quater of the painting. My name was credited "Assisted by Ann Munday". Excited to show a long term friend and brilliant songwriter of some of my artistic endeavour we drove north on Hollywood and stopped. Fortunately the gate was open, so we could go straight up and stand in front of it. My "Assisted by" has been painted out. Why would someone do that? And I have not forgotten the man who at a meeting, described a gang rape as a party prank. So I think I still stick to my 12 step program and my design for living, and continue to be as rigorously honestly honest as I can be.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

What is a friend? And my trip to the UK.

I returned last Sunday from a little over 3 weeks visit to my brother Darren, my lovely sister in law/great friend, Becky and their gorgeous and growing sons, Ben and Luke.
I looked after both of them in 2005, the last time I visited the UK, and boy did I get tired trying to keep the two of them amused and not fighting with each other. The simple trick was to make them laugh and doing something all of the time (treasure hunts, hide and seek, you name it, I did it and don't ask me how many times I watched Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (!) or Star Wars either (!), and me on the trampoline did that very easily, since I simply could not master it.
Back to my trip. 3 days after I arrived, I found myself up at 7 am in the morning (oh why can they not at least prescribe rohypnol - yes, the date rate drug for travelling different time zones, which I used to use when I travelled so much, because it would give me good sleep and I would wake up totally acclimatised to my new time zone and prevent me from falling asleep while in a meeting or worse still, listening to a songwriter's new song, he'd waited ages for my visit to play to me!) to let out the ducks and chickens.
Becky and family's home is a wonderful 200 + year old cottage, which has been put together from a series of smaller ones and is long and huge, however, welcoming and homely and elegant. She has an uncanny ability to do that no matter what sized house they have lived in over the years. And I have to look back at the time when I did have a home, and without being arrogant (I hope) say I could do the same.
Anyway, first to the ducks and chickens. So I get up at 7 am on the first Monday morning (they'd left for their French skiing trip much earlier than that) with the aid of an alarm clock, and guess what, it's raining! On with the wellington boots. My nephew Ben's fitted me, fortunately. And out to the enclosure at the bottom of the garden, which is now very muddy. No problem feed and water them. Now to the hour of 6pm I have been given to get them all back in their coop. Well, you would have had to laugh at me running around and around the coop chasing the ducks in particular, to go back into that coop. Oh, and I had to collect eggs. Did startle a few chickens sitting on some. One poor duck, Mother Goose, only has one eye, which I had not noticed and in the end I had to pick her up and put her in. No problem for me. As a child I spent the happiest weeks (every school vacation until my father remarried and evil step mother 1 stopped me seeing any of my mother's family) of a mostly sad childhood in Liscarroll, a tiny village in County Cork on a small farm, so had no fear of either ducks or chickens. Although I do remember my lovely Irish grandmother (a source of unconditional love) chasing me around once pulling on the sinews of a chicken's claw.
Anyway, one evening about 4 days into the chasing around, I was a little late and lo and behold, the ducks and chickens repair to their various coops (the small black fluff ball chickens had their own) all by themselves!!!! Approaching dusk and the scent of foxes wafting in the air send them to safety by themselves. So at least, I am now only having to make sure they have water at night and not feel an idiot chasing them around and around, and to the 7 am opening up and feeding and watering. There was one aggressive rooster, which if he did not retreat when I walked into him, simply had water poured on his head, which did the trick. I did have to remember the two rabbits as well, however, they never came out.
Sadly, on the Monday I learned via email, that one of my best friends, Tom (my copyright manager and right hand at Chrysalis Music Group USA, where I was Senior VP) in 1983 (I apparently continued the interview that started in the office, in my hotel room and he remembers having to pass me bras and things (he also came shopping with me whenever I did that, and shopping is something I hate and he laughed at being in Norma Kamalis at the attendant coming up to him and asking him if he was looking for something in particular - he was well over 6'!) had died of meningitis and I was truly devastated. Apparently, I went to one of the neighbours a walk away at the entrance to Swifts Farm, but I don't remember doing so.
Patricia and Chris were a very lovely couple I met while Becky and family were still there, and Patricia invited me to to Crufts with her. I had accepted her invitation with excitement, however, my ptsd and depression were not helping me much due to Tom's death, and in the end, although I would love to have attended, I simply couldn't.
The family also has a new Labrador puppy, Holly. Now anyone who knows Labradors, knows that as puppies they are a bundle of mischief and prone to biting anything they can get hold of. Normally, she is left in her room during the day and my brother comes home at lunch time to feed her, but I simply couldn't do that to her, so she was a constant companion and not at all any help when I was trying to paint. Something I had planned to do a lot of! And that was a little bit of a shame as it was all so very beautiful, deep in the Oxfordshire countryside and with a peacock from next door pig farm, who'd pop over.
However, Holly and I had many games of soccer, and she liked to keep two balls in play, one very deflated one and one not so. Got me a bit fitter, wich I had hoped to do and give up smoking as well. I cannot blame Tom's death for my not doing so, but I am afraid I did not live up to my own expectations, although I did cut back considerably.
I consider it a privilege anyway, that Holly trusted me right from the beginning and was very happy being with me.
The first Sunday, I had lunch with two FRIENDS, David Hitchcock and Teri Anderson. Teri I had seen on my 60th, when we went to see the Zombies together, and caught Spencer Davis )I can still remember him sitting in my office at Chrysalis; and my head going, "that's Spencer Davis sitting there" several times; and another UK band from my 20s, which I can't remember, however, with new blood gave a great show. I have not seen David since the mid 90s and it was good to see him and I am happy that he is happily married, and has two great daughters, he loves and who love him. Now he is a great friend as is Teri, and I pray that her chemo will get rid of the cancer found quite by accident and a very rare one. However, they found it early and still extremely small and she's not worrying about it.
We had intended to go to a pub in the village Becky, Darren and family used to live in, in the tiny village of Launton, one I have a photo of to paint at some point, but you had to book and it was completely full. The pub we chose was not that great, however, when you're with friends, it really doesn't matter.
My uncle and my second stepmother showed up on the Tuesday, which I hadn't quite planned on, however, it was good to see them.
Sleep, beautiful sleep. I was not at all afraid of being there alone. Have never been afraid of being anywhere alone (well there was one period, but that's another story) and I just had great sleep through the night for the entire 3 weeks and 2 days I spent there.
Monday, Feb 25th arrived and so did Becky, Darren, Becky's Dad, Roger and Ben and Luke back from their skiing.
So now I am off to watch Luke play soccer at his school (he's only 7 and already training with Reading FC one night a week) and I thought my butt would freeze off! And very oddly, I turned during the tea after the game and said hello to a young woman and her daughter. Somehow, it came up that we are both of Irish heritage and she also has one pointed ear and one round ear as I have. I call mine the leprechaun side of me. I've never met anyone else throughout the many years I have now lived who've also had one pointed and one round ears.
Have to say that there was a lot of soccer watching going on when everyone came home, which reminded me very much of my childhood. Also my visits to my Dad from the US, when I wondered why on earth I'd gone to visit him, if he was going to sit and watch either soccer or a war film!
Becky and I both love gardening and come Friday, we're off to the garden centre together, and buy loads of plants including a Mimosa, which is currently sitting in the dining room as you cannot plant them until all danger of frost is past. We kept forgetting how tall it was and of course instead of making it our last purchase, we grabbed it as soon as we saw it, and then had to watch for its height the rest of the buying trip!
Saturday arrives, and Darren has kindly arranged a family gathering, and really, really wonderful aside from seeing my lovely remaining Aunt Jacqueline and her husband, Uncle Doug, my cousin Karen and her husband, Stephen (always good for an interesting political conversation, although that wasn't the time for one), my love Irish cousin, Liam and his beautiful wife, Margaret. This was great, however, the huge bonus was that I got to see my father's best friend, Chris Button and his two lovely daughters, Sasha and Sarah. Such a wonderful man, and a good FRIEND to me. Sadly, his lovely wife Gaye was not well, however, we have been back in contact by email since then. So I am back in touch with a lovely friend and his family. And Becky's Dad, Roger (who hates such gatherings) is so good to me, that despite his not wanting to at all, he shows up too. Another FRIEND.
So why have I called this "what is a friend". Well, Becky and I were talking one evening and I have been having trouble with someone I have known almost since I move to the US way back in 1978. And I was talking to her about him and the fact that he recommended the awful lawyer, who did such a poor job in representing me in a car accident on Sept 9, 2008 at 1:25pm on Beverly Boulevard at the lights at Curson, when Craig Ferguson's wife, Megan Cunningham Ferguson crashes into me while I am waiting at the red light. I am turned so I am looking to the right where the traffic light is, and since then not a day goes by that I am not in pain with my neck and right shoulder. Megan (a lovely woman) walks towards me with cell phone in hand, apologising over and over again, and tells me that her brakes failed. It did not feel that her brakes had failed, rather more, that she had driven full speed at me. It was a terrific impact, however, I see no reason for her to lie about her brakes.
There was a funny anecdote. We were occupying the middle lane, with two lanes to our right and one very rude driver going past told us to get out of the road, as we're blocking traffic. Which considering that's exactly what he was doing by stopping to tell us to get out of the road, is ironic to say the least. I told him what I thought of him and that he should just move on and get away from us.
Being British, I was not immediately on the phone to a lawyer, and I expect through shock, when the Farmer's representative is immediately on the phone to me early the very next morning, I tell her I am fine (that's also a British habit), and I ask how Megan is? Very clever of Farmers Insurance. [As an aside, they have insured my brother for 28 years and me for 12, and that I am still with them is because their agent Stephen Pohl is a decent human being. I wish all the people suing Farmers Insurance, including the class action suit by The Mormons, much good fortune in winning against them.]
But, as time went by, the pain came. The entire back of my volvo station wagon is caved in, I have seen my boyfriend thrown forward and his hands slamming on the glove compartment. My beautiful german shepherd, Anita is in the back and to this day, I cannot forgive myself for not taking her to the vets. I have to wonder if that accident accelerated her degenerative spinal disease, and I had to have her euthanised last year, which is one of the saddest momenst of my life. She was my FRIEND. We knew each other. I could lay my head on her body and receive comfort.
But my pain does come and I have whiplash damage, sciatic nerve damage and a body wracked with pain. So I ask the aforementioned friend for a recommendation and he gives me one.
I go to see her. I am still in shock, and she seems pleasant, a bit gaudily dressed for my taste and very opiniated, and who I would normally refer to as a rather silly woman.
2008 passes, I've seen the unpleasant orthodpedic surgeon she has instructed me to. He recommends a course of chiroprator's treatment. Fortunately, I have an amazing chiroprator Dr Robert Pohomac of MaxWellness, and he does manage to do some work on my lumbar region.
Not to go into the whole long drawn out case again, this woman lawyer has told me one thing after another, recommened one defence after another, but changed her mind and basically has done nothing. She tells me in October of 2009 that she is going to file the complaint by the end of the year. She does not. So I get forced into mediation (Craig Ferguson does not want his wife to appear in court and she is pregnant, so I feel for her), which finally occurs in October 2010, or face a trial sometime in 2011. I am warned by my attorney that I am not likely to win, because Farmers have blamed my injuries on my age. I am not sure how you get whiplash, brachial plexus damage with age, nor pain running down the right shoulder.
So back to my title "What is a friend". I speak with the lawyer, my "friend" who has recommended the woman, and he agrees that she has filed late. He offers to speak with the senior partner of the firm representing Farmers and Megan before the mediation, but is lectured by her. And I get lectured too for not trusting her. Well, I am sorry, by that stage, I do not.
Sadly, however, when I email my lawyer "friend" that I am considering reporting my lawyer to the bar, he is on her side and tells me to just move on. You try "moving on" when you are in pain every day. I have the determination to learn the Alexander Technique, I sleep with my neck over a pillow, with my neck going in the opposite direction to that which is was thrown in and that helps a bit. I use a neck brace for work at the computer. I walk.
So now I am back to my conversation with Becky about what a friend is, and she hits the nail on the head and answers the query that has been running through my mind since my "friend's" response, "move on". A friend is someone you can depend on and trust, and I realise that sadly the friend I used to rely on and trust, no longer deserves my trust. He's lost it.
Ending on a more positive note, I made a new friend in the UK, my sister in law, Becky's trainer Peter Michael Dedes. He is a physical trainer and I immediately knew I could trust him and depend on him.
Franca Cavarricci, despite her own many and tremendous difficulties due to the disgusting behaviour of her ex partner and business partner, who I used to respect, but do not any longer, is another. I have tremendous admiration for her managing to get through a truly horrific time and that she does this every day. She adoes her two daughters, Alanna and Sidney, who are a wonderful testamont to her as a mother. I met her when she was a successful business manager having formed her own business management company, which was stolen away from her.
And I end with the end of my UK trip on March 13, which was a sad parting for me, aside from the horrible hour I have to get up!
We all have dinner at an Indian restaurant on the Friday and Luke has me in hysterics, taking photographs of four of us, as he keeps moving forward each time he goes to press the button!
On Satuday, I go and watch Ben play soccer and watch him run like a gazelle (both he and my niece, Vanessa have that same ability) and I learn that he's a wizard at corner kicks. He is able to curve the ball around the goal post. That morning it was not cold, and I did not freeze, and met some nice other parents. I make the mistake of telling one of the fathers that I used to know George Best well, and he immediately asked me if I had slept with him. I had to laugh, and Becky and I compared notes on how so little has changed for women in the nearly 40 years since I joined the music business and was forever being spoken about that I had slept with everyone to get to the top. Nearly made the News of The World once, which I thought was very funny, but then didn't, as I thought my Dad won't like that! Becky still experiences much of the same I did throughout my career.
Darren gets me to the airport in good time. I am pre-checked in (American Airlines, my favourite), so we have a little more time together. I have to have a starbucks, and then suddenly find that I am late for my plane and it's closing. Just as well I had played soccer with Holly, otherwise I would not have made it! I leave my wallet in the airport. Fortuantely LAX is much more efficient than LAX Lost and Found, who although I have emailed them and told them exactly where I left my cell phone, have not responded.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Life is sometimes just sad and relationships don't work out

and there's no rhyme or reason.
Relationships just don't work out - neither person at fault. Each brought a mountain of abuse; emotional and physical; and either they could heal each others hurts and pains or they could simply make them worse.
Sadly they love each other, but each have triggers that provoke anger.. One person's anger is vented phsycially, the others passive aggressively. Neither loving actions. And each causing both the recipient and the agressor deep pain, regret and anger at themselves.
Such deep sadness and despair that something so loving to begin with, has been torn to pieces and is in tatters, with neither person know what to do or where to go next.
Escape is perhaps the only alternative.
And the memories of the glorious beginning, will be glory again and laughter and giggles will triumph.

Monday, February 14, 2011

PCs being a nuisance and Franca's blog on losing friends

I have changed something on my laptop, which of course, not knowing precisely what I am doing stops me every time I try to read my lovely friend Franca's latest blog and respond to it.
So I shall do it this way.
Franca writes of friends' deaths. And as is usual, it is an excellent read.
I am a pack rat and have most of my old address books, and when searching for a number or address, find friends who have died. In some way, I do not mind, because they bring back memory of that friend.
My father died 20 years ago this May and yet I see him flying above LA in the Tiger Moth a friend owned and took him up for a ride in, when Dad was over for my brother, David's wedding.
I am also a fan of Kahill Gibrain, although I have only read The Prophet, which I love.
Quoting from "Death" he wrote:
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
This being Valentine's Day, my very favourite on marriage or a partnership is, (again from The Prophet)
"But let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another, but make not a bond of love. Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together, yet not too near together. For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow."

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Trying to get ready to visit the UK for the first time in 6 years

and thinking of all the things I have to do still!!
And so many of them are priorities - so how does that happen - procrastination and depression.
I have to help my lovely friend, Franca, who is helping me with back taxes, which have got into a state because of my mental challenges, by giving her info to help her help me! And with ptsd, my memory is not as good as it once famously was. Although perhaps the IRS will have a heart.
Get what remains of my belongings (not much after helping my brother through a dreadful custody battle - lost 90% of my furniture, including many antiques) out of storage and to a friend's garage in Palm Springs, who's kindly agreed that I can put them there, which will be a far more pleasant place than Price Self Storage.
Found rat feces in there one time and went to the desk to report that. One of the women on their staff at their possibly misnamed Help desk, actually suggested that I had brought them in! Yes, of course, I keep a whole pack of rats to just take wherever I want to!!! Fortunately, her supervisor was more sympathetic, but the feces are still in there!
What racket storage places are these days with so many people needing them because they've become homeless.
Although on the subject of rats, I once managed an act whose lead singer had a pet rat. The band was going to record at a studio, where they'd be staying for the period of recording and he asked me to phone the studio and ask their permission. Now, I had learned by that time that said rat was clean, lovable and clever, but didn't think it wise to ask a studio if we could bring one, so I told him to just take it!
Anyway, I shall be on my way in less than 2 weeks now to a beautiful old house in the Oxfordshire countryside, miles away from anything.
After 3 days of my arrival, my brother and his family will be going skiing (I must do this again sometime, although I do spend a lot of time on my butt!) and I shall be alone with a labrador puppy, ducks, chickens, rabbits and whatever other wild life live on their large piece of land.
This does include a swimming pool, however, a chilly swim is not something I am contemplating!
However, am looking forward to a week alone with time to paint, uninterrupted, except for a few friends, who'll drive to visit me there.
Intend to start on landscapes, particularly from my collection of photos taken in Tuscany. I have rather concentrated on my Whimsical Garden series, however, they are very time consuming and require minute details (just delivered a second one to doting grandparents, whose first grandchild, Lorelei now has a second one, which includes insects and rabbits and a Empire State building in the distance, which my friend tells me is a little large, however, if it had been any smaller, I am not sure anyone would recognise what it is!) and am looking forward to using a much more free style form.
I'll have to watch the weight of my baggage as my painting equipment is pretty heavy combined with books I want to take. So few clothes (my family will lend me some of theirs) as 90lbs limit doesn't allow you much.
And I know this well, having gone with my lovely niece, Vanessa to take her Dad to the airport (on his way to the UK) and found myself in front of other passengers frantically taking clothes (who'd think a man would pack so much!) and putting them on the scale to get that bag down to the required weight, while my niece and her Dad went off to buy another piece of luggage to put the clothing I had removed, in to.
A little concerned about being in an airport surrounded by people and will have my panic attack pills at hand.
And all this thinking of travelling and packing reminds me of the time when I could afford such luxuries of buying a large tapestry bag, which the salesperson had to help me carry to my car. Now that should have been a sign, you'd think! Intelligent woman running a company buys bag she can't carry without anything in it, and when she does pack it (before the days of limited weight) can't even move it off the bed! Only ever used it that one trip.
But the morning has now gone by 15 minutes. I haven't taken the walk I promised myself last night I would do first thing.
So adieu!

Saturday, January 22, 2011

The Hurt Locker, Eddie Izzard Sargent Shriver - and where it led my thoughts.

Know this film has been out for a while, however, couldn't watch it through the first time, but finally managed to.
As a caveat - while I am thrilled it was directed and produced by a woman, Kathryn Bigelow, I was disappointed to see very few women in the tech crew, or credit with anything else other than as PAs or make up. Why do so few successful women not help other women.
Anyway, back to the film.
Such an excellent production and really brought home to me, what soldiers truly go through when sent off to war.
For some reason I identified stronly with the lead character. Reminded me a little of my own defiance and how I dealt with the boys' club music business. Summon up the sinews and back into battle every day, however, always with my own brand of humour - laughing at myself. And unlike Ms. Bigelow, defending and supporting women whenever and wherever I could.
How anyone seeing this film could support war and sending men and women into harm's way everyday is beyond my comprehension.
Eddie Izzards stand up routines on war are one, very funny, however, more icrucially, his use of irony to show the futility of war. I have never believed war achieves any lasting good.
We send men and women daily into danger, backed, of course, by the arms manufactures. So we get back to Bush and Cheyney and the legacy they've left the US. I sincerely believe they should be indicted for war crimes against the American people.
How many men and women do we have now, who are suffering from going to war? How many men, women and children live in dire poverty. Whole families living in a motel room. Others in camper vans (as in the street where I live), an estimated 54% of the population living on food stamps. Others living on the street.
I do not, for one second, believe that the war against Iraq was necessary and the responsibility for the thousands that have been killed or maimed forever, lie at the feet of Cheyney and Bush.
As an aside, I met him once at a private dinner in Tortolla (British Virgin Islands), and found him to be a stupid person. While I had always been politically minded in the UK, I was naive to US politics at the time (he had just been the popular loser for a seat in the Sentate, I believe) and I asked him what he was going to do now - his response, not sure. How could anyone destined for a political life, not be sure about what he would do next! Any conversation with him was almost an impossibility, and I just ended up thinking, this is one stupid man - is that what politics in the US is all about (I had only been in the US nearly a year by the time I met him) and gave up trying to talk to him. Since I am pretty good at talking to anyone, including Thurgood Marshal, who I'd had the privilege of meeting when a woman friend was appointed a judge in California by Judge Rose Bird (?) inaugaration I had been invited to, a short time after I arrive in LA in 1978. Although I remember being far more interested in just listening to him. What an amazing man.
And back to Bush for a moment, his wife, Laura, was so much livelier and interesting and likeable, a woman you could respect.
Much better that the Peace Corp was formed and sad that Sargent Shriver, its founder recently died. God bless him. However, what an incredible legacy he left. Men and women who travel around the world to make a peaceful difference. Just a short quote from Wikipedia's info on him
"After the Kennedy Assasination, Shriver continued to serve as Director of the Peace Corps and served as Special Assitant to President Lyndon Johnson. Under Johnson, he created the Office of Econmic Opportunity with with William B. Mullins and served as its first Director. He is known as the "architect" of the Johnson's adminstrations's "War on Poverty". We definitely could do with him now!
"War on Poverty" is what will ultimately make a difference here and worldwide, and a heritage you could be proud of, not war, which leaves mutilated children and people behind to live out lives, with probably much bitterness against the US invasion. As well as the returning soldiers here, who are left with the nightmares of war they've experienced and how do they manage to overcome that? How do they learn to live a normal life again? How do they become a "normal" police man for instance?
I live in poverty, and I consider myself one of the fortunate ones. I have a roof over my head, and a bed to sleep in.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

To be or not to be

in a relationship with a man who I love very much, and who has similar mental disabilities to mine. But who has never learned how to love, or how to be responsible in a relationship.
And so much to do and wondering where on earth to start.
If I had known in 1997 that my returning to Los Angeles would end with me being surrounded by devastation as well as feeling devastated and such emotional pain, I am not sure that I would have turned down the job of running a UK publishing company, and selling a home to help him and his two daughters. And now none of them speak to me anymore and I have just been discarded - no more use for me!
I went downhill from being a well respected music executive, who as a woman had succeeded in pushing the boundaries in a male dominated business [Was the first women nominated for the ASCAP Board of Directors. Was offered the job of starting the publishing companies for Nonesuch, Asylum and Electra by Joe Smith, who personally called me to arrange our meeting, but I turned it down out of loyalty to Chrsysalis, a company, who in the end cheated me out of having shares when they went public. Turned down interviewing for running Rondor Music, because I believed my friend, Lance Freed should get the job.], to living in one room, with what's left of my belongings in storage.
I just want to curl up and go back to sleep and wake up and all is sorted, but that won't work, so I'll just "summon up the sinews" (Shakespeare - did learn something at school!) and just do a bit at a time.
I do have a special treat to look forward to, however, and perhaps I should just think of that while I doggedly get through the muddle, and that's going to spend three weeks with my other brother, and his lovely wife, Becky (who actually knows who I am and respects me) and my great nephews, Ben and Luke.
And my friend Franca has just called me and made me laugh and allowed me to cry. So on with my day, which has to start with my least favorite job of being a struggling watercolor painter, and that's matt paintings I've sold, and some I've promised as gifts.
So I'll be.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Craig Ferguson, Farmers Insurance

On September 9, 2008 at approximately 1.25 I was waiting (2nd in line at traffic light and I always leave space between me and car in front) for the light at Curson and Beverly to change.
For a second I thought that the world had ended, and in a way, my world did end that day.
I was rear ended by Craig Ferguson's wife, Megan Cunningham Ferguson. She was driving a Continental Navigator weighing goodness knows what tons, and she was so apologetic; while being on the the phone at the same time; and told me that her brakes had failed.
Being British, I did not think of lawyers at all. But, when the Farmers Insurance adjuster came to inspect the car advised me that I might only get $100 for it, I was totally aghast.
This was the first accident I had had (aside from minor dings) in 42 years of driving and I was taught to drive in the UK, where the test is far more stringent than I found in Los Angeles.
Plus, although I felt only shock the morning after the accident, and aching, I thought that would pass.
My boyfriend hurt his elbow as he was thrown forward and his hands hit the dashboard. I negotiated $1,000 for him, which he received within about 3 weeks.
As my pain increased, I phone a music biz lawyer and a really good friend of mine for 32 years now. He referred me to a law firm.
I suffer with post traumatic stress disorder, panic attacks and chronic depression, however, was learning with the help of a really excellent psychiatrist to deal with these, plus the right medication.
The accident took all my successful strides forward in trying to live a 'normal' life away from me. I felt vulnerable on the road, and never drove the volvo (thank goodness it was a station wagon) again, except for a few emergency hospital visits.
I ended up with a lawyer, who I will say little about, except that after an extremely successful career in the music industry, where I was used to instructing lawyers, negotiating tough deals; and was even offered by U2's and Pat Benatar's lawyer; a job with his firm and that he would put me through law school, I would not recommend them to anyone.
The doctor they recommended me to, had the bedside manner of a knat.
My chiropractor, Dr Rob Pohomac on the other hand did the best he could for me, and I would recommend him to anyone with the knowledge that he is great.
I also have an extremely good memory and it still amazes me how often this lawyer would say they'd do something, then not do it, and say that they'd never said they would.
I calculate that the accident took 2 years away from my life. And I shall never know whether the terrifying impact caused my beautiful companion dog, a German Shepherd, Anita, to develop spinal degenerative disease earlier than she would have done. I miss her still.
My lawyer informed me that they would file by December 2009, but did not file until March. Farmers Insurance (google them and see how many lawsuits there are against them) claimed that all of my injuries were due to my age! I am not sure how whiplash is due to age, nor the pain radiating around my right shoulder and down my right arm.
Eventually, I gave a deposition to Farmer's lawyer. I am not known to lie and was regarded in the music business as both ethical and honest. I did not lie about what the accident did to me.
I was then advised by my lawyer that Craig Ferguson did not want his wife to have to appear in court, and as I knew she was pregnant, I agreed to mediation the opposing counsel requested. Besides which, my lawyer had filed the case so late, it would not have been heard until sometime in 2011. And living any longer with the case in my life, was not something I felt that I could deal with.
For permanent whiplash damage that I shall have for the rest of my life, and damage to my pelvis, I ended up with just $18,000 in damages, plus the cost of replacing my car, which I negotiated myself. Megan's car cost $11,000 to fix. My lawyer got $11,000. Looking at it from one point of view, it appears that my constant daily pain is only worth $6,000 more than repairing a car and my lawyer's lacksidasical handling of my case.
I wrote to Craig and his wife and sent them a copy of my deposition. I specifically wrote that I did not want anything from them, I just wanted them to know what Farmers had done to me and perhaps to consider changing their insurance company, but only if it would not cause them any disadvantage.
Coincidentally, I had met Craig a few years earlier somewhere on Robertson Boulevard just north of Santa Monica Blvd. and spoken to him and told him how great he was in "Saving Grace" and "The Big Tease". I did not realise at that time, that he also wrote the films scripts. I thought him a very likeable man, and one I could respect.
Neither Craig, nor his wife, Megan have had the courtesy to respond. Just a simple, "I am really sorry that this happened to you" would have been sufficient. I know that Megan did not deliberately drive her car into mine. But they have not. And this causes me to wonder what kind of people they really are, however, I wish them no ill will and hope that they will continue to be a happy couple.
In time my resentment will pass, however, I know that even with yoga and other exercises, sleeping with my head over a pillow to strech my neck into the opposite position to which the impact threw it, and stretching my pelvs and walking, I shall always have whiplash damage.