Versa Vice

It's only appropriate that, after the last blog, on the 25th, I do something more inward here, something vain, or superficial even. Keep the balance. As if writing your opinions on a blog isn't vanity enough, I'll look at Versa Vice itself. I've noticed my little counter counting up a range of views, from 2-5 per day a few months ago, and now 10-60 per day. Since that time I've spread the word amongst family and friends, put my ego on the twitter block, put a link on my Myspace and Facebook, and had an on-air interview with Mark Parton in Canberra Australia about Versa Vice. I get an occasional comment from Jenn Adventures in Palestine, Hi Jenn, or from brother Ben, back in Florida, who's the proud father of a second son, Levi. But I know my Mom, Uncle Mike and cousins are looking on as well. All in all though, I write for myself.

As far as the blog goes, it's almost 3 years old, and requires a bit of history and explanation. The name came from a music project that I had back in Gainesville Florida. If we ever got to the point where we played live, we were going to call ourselves either Mechanism, or Versa Vice. That was 2004-2005. Shortly after that I got fed up with Gainesville, the rut I was in, and the way I was living and got a job with the USPS. I was a rural carrier and moved to Saint Augustine where I went in early every morning, sorting mail non-stop till noon, and then delivering till 5 PM. It was a great job, I made good money, I had escaped from Gainesville, I was living closer to the beach again, surfing on a regular basis, and everything seemed perfect...but I hated it. In my gut I was terrified at the thought of doing THAT job as a career, and for the rest of my healthy life.

During this time I ran into an old High School aquaintance. She was newly divorced and had two kids. We were both in our own personal kind of pickle. I began to theorize that the lost feeling I had was from not being further along in my adult development, being 32 at the time, with no wife or children. My subconscious saw Amber and her two wonderful kids as a quick way to catch up. I had "empty nest" and she had no nest. It's obvious now, but you can't make short cuts like that. And certainly, it didn't make sense to quit the Post Office job soon after, and then take a new one as a lifeguard on the beach. Clear as day now, this behavior is the classic conflits of mid-life crisis acted out. I wanted to grow up and stay young at the same time.


The old 2006 Versa Vice was born into this period. Pre-Post Office, I attended community college in Gainesville, off and on, from 1999 to 2004, living off student loans and grants, studying English, Psychology, Philosophy, Graphic Design, and any other class that suited my whims from semester to semester. I drank a lot did a variety of drugs, from time to time, and wasted time and money. As well, I managed to squeek out a book during this time period, The James King Version, which is about Gainesville, drugs, music, and other such self centered existentialist ennui. I saw myself as a genuine beat poet. A Kerouac Black Jack. An invisible rock star. But ol' Jack died a miserable drunk didn't he? His gut rotted and he died in his mother's house. The only person who would take him in the end. This is the life (and death) I was moving toward, feared, and was weary of when I joined the Post Office.

Anyway, "the old stuff" written in Versa Vice is a combination of the beatific drug influenced Gainesville writing, and my maladjustment to sudden family life. So there, in 2006, when the going got tough (as it would), when the diapers hit the fan, and when I couldn't move in any direction, gripped with raw and painful confusion, I did what both my dad and I always did, the only thing we had in common, I hit the road. I went to see The Church (a long standing favorite band of mine that has manages to put out plenty of music to match my 20 year afficianado status)in Orlando, and then Jacksonville. This was a lot of driving, and it left me broke and Amber more than perplexed I'm sure. An odd thing to do, mid-fight, take off, and disappear for a week, but as my mother knows, this is family tradition. Amber is a wonderful person whom I will always owe the world, now happily remarried, and has a new baby girl.

So how the hell did I end up in the Army?! The answer is, "all the above." That's why when people ask me, why did you join? I hesitate, I don't even know where to begin. Fact is, I was at the end of my rope and I knew I needed to do something drastic. In early 2006 the war (in Iraq) was coming off the hinges and I heard on NPR that the military had raised the age limit for enlistment. This combined with the influence of a fellow Beach Rescue Lieutenant, Mr Hans Embry, who was a Navy Corpsman, I soon found myself in the recruiter's office, in Saint Augustine, looking for papers to sign. Everyone thought I was nuts. I knew I was nuts. I had to get away from myself. And I did.

The navy recruiters, weren't there two visits in a row, and the army sergeant in the joint branch office roped me in the second time. The rest is history. The rest is Versa Vice: Versing my vices and the pendulum swinging between them. A metal between magnets, just out of range, no full contact, no fountain of youth, no ultimate high, no satisfaction, no glory on stage after a double encore show, no interview with Charlie Rose about my silly book, which sold a whopping 50 copies. Just life, sunrise, and sunset, day after day. Taking a hard look at reality. At how to see one's place in the world, seeing the way other people live. After seeing life in Iraq for Iraqis, I will forever be careful with the word hardship. As a platoon medic, I've been on stand-by daily to help soldiers with a sprained ankles, a new rash, headaches, real and imaginary. They even feel free to come knocking at two in the morning (and have done so without apology), but I honestly, wouldn't have it any other way.