Jerusalem is not 2017

No. Jerusalem, the rightful capital of the Jews in the center of the homeland is much older than that. More on that later. But as Trump fulfills promise after horrible promise, we awake today to his worst yet. Here was my unapologetic tweet regarding that:

https://twitter.com/russellwolff/status/938475765959659522

And the text: I was just saying how there’s not enough violence against #Jews in the world #fuckyou @realdonaldtrump #scumbag #racist #antisemitic #shitstain on humanity #USA #israel #Jerusalem Move unnecessary - starting more #war in #middleeast ift.tt/2jnR0FE

A friend for whom I have a ton of respect asked me in response: why is this move a bad thing?

Here was my best answer, because Jerusalem is older than this president, older than this country, older than Christianity... Jerusalem is not 2017. Jerusalem is 5778 and will be here long after we become dust and bones. 

“And nuance is just the thing here. Jerusalem is the capital city of my homeland. I know that. My people know that. The millions of people who want us dead ALSO know that. 

But those ‘enemies’ who we are made to think are the ‘Palestinian people’ are at such a disadvantage in this situation. From birth they are told a damaging antisemitic story/series of lies. It is in their textbooks. The ones funded by the UN. They are taught that my people are vermin, Dogs, villains who stole their land and must be killed off. 

So from THERE, we try to gain peace, agreement, and understanding with people who are indoctrinated to kill us. 

It is messy as fuck.  And while certain things are right and wrong, some things are harmful and unnecessary. Such as: A. The settlements. B. Demolishing Arab homes. C. Official declaration of something already understood in that region, that Jerusalem is the capital of the Jewish state. 

It spits in the face of the peace process and does nothing but throw salt into the ever-fresh wounds of people who are taught (brainwashed) by terrorists to believe alternative facts.”

Spacey and Weinstein and Cosby, Oh My!

For anyone wondering, the answer is no. 

I take no pleasure in posting all the personal things I have been posting recently. But I feel compelled to. This has been a very difficult time and a huge distraction from what I believe to be my life's work. However, this mountain is in my direct path. It could no longer be ignored. It made itself very clear. 

This is the sort of shit that keeps you awake at night... for decades. It provides a lifetime's worth of nightmares, night terrors, panic attacks, depression, guilt and shame. 

And even now, as I scream out to the world about my experiences, I am left with this: Will anyone believe me? They'll just deny it. They'll just discredit me. Maybe they'll sue me. What if I was the only kid they did this to? What if they make it impossible for me to get work in the entertainment industry again?

I don't want to be dealing with ANY of this. I really don't. It's fucking miserable and I assume others are having a similar experience. There is no great relief or satisfaction to any of it. While I believe it is important to speak out, the experience of doing so comes at a great personal toll. The past month has been brutal and exhausting. 

So if you happen to know someone else going through this, please understand we might not be running at full capacity. We might have a shorter fuse than normal. We might be more irritable. We haven't been sleeping. Our reserves are spent. And simple tasks can feel like the impossible somedays. Take it easy on us. Check in and say hi. We appreciate it. We really do. 

The Men of #MeToo

For those who want the last line first: Don't shame the men of #MeToo

The past two weeks have been an emotional roller coaster. Anyone who has survived sexual assault & abuse will attest to that. Triggers are a cute word for some people to throw into a Facebook post, but they are a very harsh reality for those of us who have survived trauma. This week, thanks to the courage and strength of many great women, men who have suffered in silence for decades finally saw an entrance to the conversation. However, in many circles, they are being shut down and told to go home. That their presence is unwelcome and inappropriate. I feel compelled to address this, as that is simply not the case. Who are the men of #MeToo?

The men of #MeToo are allies & feminists. The men of #MeToo have been supporting female victims for decades without hesitation, sometimes at great personal risk. The men of #MeToo suffered silently through Sandusky, through Cosby, and for those of us in the entertainment industry, we for certain knew and dealt with a Harvey Weinstein. With every detail of every account that has emerged, we have been screaming out in silence. The men of #MeToo were desperately trying to claw our way out of this skin we are made to wear. Then, 24 short hours ago, the world changed with a single tweet. #MeToo

The men of #MeToo are an undeniable part of this conversation. For some of us, we never knew a day would come when we could openly speak of these topics. And of course, there is so much more work to do. This may be a giant leap, but it is also one small step. I have been writing about these experiences in a book for the last 10 years. But the book isn't finished yet. I hope to figure out how to speak of the men who wronged me. To speak their names.  Over the past 10 years, I have left clues throughout my writing like a trail of breadcrumbs from my youth. But that is as close as I have come. Until this week. I am terrified. I am empowered.

For those who are out there criticizing the men of #MeToo, I ask you this: Were you assaulted? Were you raped? Were you made to keep a terrible secret for 30 years while the people who harmed you are beloved by the community? Were you made to suffer and watch as they went on to lead successful powerful lives in the entertainment industry? Do you have night terrors every single night of your life because you can never be sure someone isn't waiting for you to fall asleep so they can assault you? Have you had to keep these things inside because of the stigma of being a male victim? Or the fear that no one will believe you and that you would never work again in your industry? Do you still see their faces in your nightmares? Do you still hear their horrible chilling voices? Do you get sick and have panic attacks when listening to the accounts of Cosby/Weinstein victims because you knew the details word for word?

If not, I would ask you to stop shaming us. Instead, please support the men of #MeToo. We didn't steal anyone's movement. We ARE #MeToo and we add strength to the voices, not diminish them. We too are the victims of powerful men. This time we must be seen. This time we must be heard. This time we must be counted. This moment is a turning point for so many people who have fought a lifetime to get here. No retreat. No surrender. No turning back.

A camp director, a camp counselor, a coworker at a restaurant, an AA sponsor, a conductor, a composer, a director, a casting agent #MeToo

Damaged

My gut response to reading this story is like my response to hearing Cosby's victims speak out, and Sandusky's, and so many others. Everything in my soul wants to believe the things that happened to me as a child and teenager at the hands of powerful men in the entertainment industry were embellished in my mind. That they were no big deal. That they certainly only happened to me. But then I read these accounts. And I am filled with horror and guilt. I am still as paralyzed by the potential repercussions of speaking out as I am with guilt that these predators have harmed other lives over the last 3 decades. It makes me feel like a coward and a horrible person. 

There are certain scenes, events, and images one cannot forget. Not after decades. Not after drug and alcohol abuse. Not after therapy. They are imprinted on the soul and remain an ever present burden we must walk through life carrying. This is the pain of a survivor. 

How the New Yorker's explosive expose on Harvey Weinstein came together - ABC News https://apple.news/AzTnGGZyfQXuWALI5bXGQow

We are soldiers in a war. We the entertainers. This is the new normal.

It's official. We can no longer remain silent about a truth that lays bare before our raw sleep-deprived eyes. We, we the entertainers, we are soldiers in a war. And this is the new normal.

Every time a terrorist strikes innocent people in the world, first responders, intelligence departments, police, military, they all jump into action. They don't hesitate. They don't cower in fear. They act, both to protect innocent lives and to hunt down the evil people who commit these cowardly unthinkable acts. As an artist, I have often felt helpless in this fight. But over the last few years, the terrorists have begun to strike at US, and at our fans. And guess what? We now have a new responsibility. It isn't writing a new song. It isn't praying for the victims. We are soldiers now, the risk to our lives is very real, and our mission has never been more clear nor more critical.

We are entertainers. Our job and our fight against terrorists who would seek to destroy us is simply this: TO ENTERTAIN. We must show up. We must be brave. We can pause and comfort those lost in this long battle. But as soon as possible, OUR fight must continue. Concerts must not be cancelled out of fear. Tours must not be cut short. Our world has become a black hole of misery, death, hatred, & destruction, led by dictators who thrive off war. Our job is to bring whatever light we can to all corners of our world. And now it has become crystal clear, we do so at great personal risk to ourselves and the public. We might be killed in the line of duty, but, and hear this loud and clear: THAT IS THE GIG. It might not be what you signed up for, and if you can't stomach it, then by all means, stay home. But if you are out there as an entertainer, you are personally a soldier in a war against terrorism.

Other soldiers know their mission, to hunt down and kill terrorists, to locate cells before they strike, to destroy training camps and stop indoctrination before it takes hold, both online and in person. But OUR job as entertainers is just as essential to the survival of humankind. We give the world hope. We bring people together. And to do this, we put ourselves out there in a VERY public way. Some of us will be hurt. Some of us will be killed. But this is war. And sadly, our army is not immune to those losses.

Stay strong, my fellow soldiers. Be brave, and live to fight another day!

#ArmyOfLove

NSFW (like at all): Open letter to GOP, conservatives, and other fake christians...

Hello America,

This will not be a nice letter. If I seem a little off this week there are a few damn good reasons. 1. I am in the process of uprooting my life and relocating to the last glimmer of hope in this lost cause of a country. (California). 2. A personal tragedy occurred I will share below that feeds into... 3. You have once again shown yourself to be liars and selfish, devious racists, hiding your hate behind the terms 'christian' and 'conservative' to achieve your goals.

What goals am I referring to today?
Taking healthcare away from 24 million Americans because you 'shouldn't have to pay for someone else'.

Who are the someone elses?
They are your fucking neighbors you disgusting bigoted scumbags!

They might not look like you. (But many do) They might not pray to your god. (You know, that same god who tells you NOT to be the hateful piece of shit you are, but you do it anyway). They might not have as much money as you. (Let's face it, they don't, and you resent them for it... why should good hard working christians like YOU have to pay to take care of THEM?) They might have been raped and might need an abortion which is NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS YOU STUPID ASSCLOWN WHO, BY THE WAY, DOESN'T EVEN HAVE A UTERUS!!! Take care of your own family and get your own house in order and then, when YOUR daughter is raped and pregnant, YOU can chain her up in the basement and forbid her from getting an abortion. That is up to YOU. Praise Jesus! (But you know you wouldn't do that, would you? You would quietly find a Planned Parenthood 100 miles away, if you haven't shut them down yet, and you would get her the help she needs, you hypocritical slime ball).

But who really needs healthcare right?
I'll tell you who... me... you... your parents... your children... people with pre-existing conditions... and the MENTALLY ILL! You remember them, right? They are the reason for the 33,000 gun deaths in America every year. Remember what you said? It's MENTAL ILLNESS, not the unfathomable availability of guns with little to no background checks. So, you want us all to look away from common sense. We are not fucking idiots. We know it's the guns. But ok, let's play it YOUR way. Guess what? YOU CAN'T HAVE IT BOTH WAYS YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKER!

When you remove the affordable care act, you lose the option to call yourself a christian. That ship has sailed. When you do the least christian thing in the world, you should be shamed, not rewarded. You are literally sentencing innocent people to die. The sick and the poor. The mentally ill. Good luck on Sunday after church. I'd recommend a bloody mary with your brunch. Blood is already on your hands, so you might as well start drinking it too.

But what  about the MENTALLY ILL! Yeah, remember them? Surely there are no consequences by making it harder for people to be healthy. Surely nothing bad can come from taking meds and proper treatment away from depressed people, right? If only they found Jesus before they found that gun...

Every day is mental health awareness day for people with depression. Some days are mental health wakeup calls. But this week was a mental health baseball bat to the crotch! I didn't talk about this much, but now it has become more public. A terrible tragedy:

This week, a friend of mine's husband passed away. He was young. He was on his way home and was supposed to pick up their daughter. But he never made it.

That would have been awful enough. But it got worse... Questions began circulating. Answers started coming in. A trickle at first, followed by a stream, then finally a flood. It turns out, this man, this father, this incredibly brilliant, funny, and successful doctor, had in fact taken his own life.

And inexplicably, the story gets even worse. He had been suffering from depression most of his life. He had been hospitalized a couple of times over the years. What people just learned this week is that he had been hospitalized 4 times in the last 8 months. His last day alive, he was heading home, having just been released from the hospital yet again. He was to pick up his daughter. But instead, he threw himself in front of an oncoming train. No warning. His daughter left waiting for him. Her Bat Mitzvah is coming up in a week and they will still have it. I don't know how, but they will go on. My friend and her family have been through so much over the years and they are among the strongest people I know.

All of this to say, I have been very distracted emotionally and mentally. And when I think of YOU [YOU the smug conservative, YOU the self-righteous christian, YOU the greedy republican, YOU the smiling white face about to take away healthcare from the sick, the poor, and the mentally ill], all I can think of is YOUR hand on his back, throwing him and so many others in front of an oncoming train. YOU did this. YOU made healthcare so difficult to afford. YOU made mental illness a stigma so that society can be sympathetic to someone suffering from cancer, but flippant about someone suffering from depression. YOU held the razor that sliced the wrists. YOU sold the gun that pulled the trigger. YOU tied the noose that ended the pain. YOU opened the bottle that contained the pills. YOU created an environment where people suffering from depression have to be so ashamed of and secretive about OUR illness that some of us never get the help we need, lest we become ostracized in our own communities and lose our jobs. This is YOUR hand at work. I hope YOU are proud of yourselves.

I don't know if this new vote-to-end-life (yeah that's right, good luck continuing to champion a pro-life stance) will succeed in taking away healthcare from 24 million Americans. But I do know that YOU want it to. And shame on YOUR disgusting soul. Life may be too short for us to see the karma that awaits you, but may you rot in hell in THIS lifetime. May you reap what you sew.

Namaste!

Good morning Mordechai.

This story could start or end with an email I just received and responded to. Or this story could start two months ago on the narrow winding stone-laden streets of Jerusalem's Old City, or even two years earlier in the dead of winter shivering outside my former house in Nashville. This could be a story about forgiveness, about bitterness, about remembrance, or redemption. But instead, this story starts with a bizarre massage 13 years ago in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Yes, let us begin there.

The year was 2004 and I had been living in Boston for a few years. I had recently started dating someone. 2004 was a magical time before Tinder, Bumble, Okcupid, and Plenty of Fish existed; a time before the iPhone if one can imagine such a thing! So yes, we met on Craigslist. That was a thing back then. She was fun, quirky, spontaneous & wild, but a bit unstable. Ok maybe a lot unstable. But she had a dog. A german shepherd.  A great dog will make you look past a lot of things. And so I did.

During the first week I was seeing her, she informed me she was 'poly' and that she was seeing someone else already, but that 'he was cool with us'. Well, I told her I was not cool with that situation. I wasn't angry, but let her know it wasn't a situation I was comfortable with nor interested in. Within a few days, she let me know she felt so strongly about me that she told her other partner that she didn't think she was poly anymore and she only wanted to be with me. This led to me getting a LONG and rambling passive-agressive message from her partner about how much he loved having sex with her, but that she was nuts and I was doing him a favor. Oh how I wish I heeded those early warnings and red flags. The kicker: the guy was a huge fan of mine who had seen me perform a dozen or so times and owned all my albums. And with that, we were off to the races. 

Back in 2004, I was trying to put my life back together. I had been recovering mentally and physically from a series of major surgeries and hospitalizations surrounding a near-fatal illness in 2002. I was depressed, hopeless much of the time, suffering from PTSD, and also from physical pain. By 2004, 15 years of touring in music and DJing had finally taken it's toll on my spine. Both my neck and back went out the same year and I was 'living' with nearly constant excruciating nerve pain. Not everyone knew this, but I couldn't use my right arm for about 6 months. It shifted back and forth between having no feeling whatsoever and a horrifying flood of high voltage electric nerve pain. It is a feeling one only understands if one has the misfortune of experiencing it. Showering was a challenge, getting dressed was a 20 minute project, lifting a guitar was a pipe dream. I went for many tests, MRIs, PT, steroid shots, pain pills, and spent hours on the phone with suicide hotlines. I was just barely living and couldn't imagine going on much longer in that condition. My then-partner suggested I go to see a 'friend' of hers in Cambridge who was a massage therapist. I was desperate so I agreed. Let's call him Mordechai.

I do not write 'her' name anymore. I do not speak it aloud. I cringe now when I see it in print or hear it. For the purposes of this story, let's refer to her as Irma (after Irma Grese, the 'Beast of Belsen' for those into Nazi concentration camp history). So, Irma set an appointment for me to meet Mordechai at his apartment/massage studio in Central Square. I didn't fully know what I was getting into, but I was desperate, depressed, and in constant pain. Once I was at Mordechai's place, I got on his massage table, clothed of course, as he proceeded to torture me with the most painful 'trigger point' massage ever conceived of. I probably made it through 15 minutes of that agony. Worse than the massage though was the small talk. It was odd and borderline creepy. He kept asking inappropriate questions about Irma and about our budding relationship. By the end of the ordeal, I remember thinking Mordechai was no ordinary friend. They had been lovers or something more involved. I never asked Irma. I never asked Mordechai. I didn't care. I didn't want to know. Regardless, I left his studio that day and thought I would never see him again. That was to change 12 years later in Jerusalem of all places. But one thing at a time.

We can skip 2014. I have written extensively about that year. About the tragedy that brought Irma and I back together in 2013 against all my better judgment. And of course, I have written about the bitter end. Sure there are followups, like learning of her child last fall on social media. But this story is about Modechai, me, and an email he sent this morning. Mind you, I have had possibly 3 conversations with him my entire life. But on a random Shabbat afternoon, in the Jewish quarter of Jerusalem's old city, there he was. Two months ago... In the flesh... "Mordechai?!?!?" I exclaimed as we literally bumped each other walking through that narrow passage way. I had to remind him who I was, but we both looked a bit different. Turns out he had moved to Israel shortly after that odd day in 2004. He was very religious and was wearing all the clothing one might expect from an orthodox Jew in Jerusalem. He now wore a long unkempt red beard with proud curly payes down the side, a traditional black hat and coat, and he was running late to yeshiva. "Russell!! How many years has it been?" I told him exactly how many it had been. Before long, he asked about Irma. How couldn't he? I gave him a very brief history of the fall of Rome. Mordechai looked on in shocked amazement as I explained what had become of her. We laughed awkwardly about coincidences/small worlds, we said our goodbyes, and I figured that would be the end of that for another 12-13 years.

Then came this morning. I didn't sleep particularly well last night. I seldom do. I suffer from insomnia after spending years on the road, and am haunted by many demons that just won't die. When I awoke, my brain was fixed on my search for serenity in the new world (The West Coast). Out of the silence came a *ding* and a popup message on 3 devices (Thanks Steve Jobs). And with that, I was pulled right back into a world I thought I had escaped from. It was Mordechai. And as usual, the subject was Irma. What follows will simply be the email thread as it played out. I am ok. I will be fine. My stress level was through the roof as I began writing this morning.. But somehow, I find that turning my pain into stories and sharing with anyone who cares to read them calms me down. A lot. I have no pride, so I take all the help I can get. 

7:03AM CST Mordechai: 

          subject: great to see you in jerusalem!!

                                      

          id like to broker a peace between you and irma

                                      

          i didnt tell her i saw you i havent talked to her in years

                                      

          i think its just good for everyone to try

                                      

          i have literlaly no investment in this and like you both 

                                      

          peace is good!!

7:23AM CST Me:

          She deserves nothing of the sort. She is one of the most evil human beings on the planet. 

She commit fraud and lied to me. She stole my home, kept me around for months, took advantage of my family's kindness, THEN threw me out of my own home in the middle of a frigid night. At midnight. 

After that she lied to a judge several times trying to further terrorize me by falsely accusing me of abuse in an attempt to steal my dog. She commit purgery that day and was thrown out of court. Among other lies, her insane brain told a sitting judge that my dog was a 'gift to her from the dog breeder'. The dog breeder however was a longtime friend of mine and was in court that day as MY witness. 

Irma was sleeping with someone else and got knocked up right after we were in court. (Unless she lied and that evil baby is mine. I certainly hope not). 

The next time I hear her disgusting name, I truly hope it is someone asking me if I heard that she died. Ph^ck her. For eternity. May she know no peace in her life. She is a sociopathic maniac who deserves nothing but suffering, pain, and misery. 

Other than that, hope you are doing well. 

7:27AM CST Mordechai (with a partial but irrelevant reveal I had always suspected):

Subject: wait so you are saying you dont want to? lol 

wow im glad i didnt end up with her!!

what a journeyh sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesh man sorry to hear it

of course a peace would involve fair restititution but ok lets let it go

          my friend and i wished we had invited you to come hang out at yeshiva with us!! 

7:40AM CST Me:

         I would have loved to. Maybe next time. 👍🏼



As I write this on the couch, I am snuggled between Rosie, my beautiful boxer girl and Casey, my boston terrier who has been faithfully by my side for so many years. I hope you all have a great and meaningful day. We don't know how many days of any sort are left in this world nor how many are left in our lives. Someday, I hope to trust again. Someday I hope to love openly again. Someday I hope to walk tall again and return to making art in the way I know I am meant to. I hope someday is soon. 

Peace