[insert cliched use of a Pink Floyd lyric]

The internet is a big place. So, I can't be too discouraged about this not being a top rated blog, setting the world on fire & being discussed across all forms of media. But there must be someone....somewhere that reads these ramblings. For what is the purpose of writing if not to have an audience read it; to stimulate discussion, jump start thoughts or just to provide basic escapism. I am not being overly dramatic or down  or bitching about this at all. Rather I am just asking myself if I should stop with the blogging or keep at it, for at least a little while longer. Perhaps find another outlet.....maybe go back to the ever increasingly archaic tag-team of pen & paper? See ya very soon. If you're lucky! dun dun dunnnn!!! :)

So what? I'm a blue freeloadin' mysterioso

Jazz is my favorite type of music. Yes, more than blues or rock. Like any true passion, I didn't initially seek out jazz, it found me. All the time I had no idea that this was what I wanted. I love jazz so much due to it's idiosyncrasies...it's indiviualism that shines thru from one performer to the next. And though, there can two...four...or twelve each bringing their own "voice" together. In one way this could be chaotic, but that's the beauty, the artistry, of jazz. The smooth rythms all blending and flowing from the souls of the performers to the listeners. That's the thing about jazz for me, I feel it deeper than any other music. But it can't be just any jazz, not anything will do. Preferences for jazz are idiosyncratic as the sounds and performers. Although, I'm not big on labels, who needs them? Not me. As with any true art, I know it when I hear it. I suppose you could use labels like; bebop, cool, hard bop & modal, maybe swing in pinch.....the more traditional stuff. I'm talkin' 'bout Miles Davis (early Columbia stuff), John Coltrane, Duke Ellington, Thelonius Monk, "Cannonball" Adderly, Herbie Hancock, Charles Mingus.... to name a few of my favorites. You'll notice I don't mention any jazz singers. Don't worry. I've nothing against them, I just prefer instrumental jazz, because you really have to focus on the music being made without having a voice in the way. It's the only way to truly experience the subtly and nuaunce....even the power and raw emotions. Jazz is my "go to" music. I often play while I do a sort of meditation, as I lose myself in that current of smooth blueness. In it I feel chaos and order at the same time, not unlike what I deal with everyday. Yet, from that interaction--I'd not call it a battle-- of two forces, comes something wonderus and beautiful. In short, jazz is life

What I'm reading....or Paris, There & Back Again, A Bald Geek's Journey

I wanted a quick read this weekend so I went with "A Moveable Feast", my first real jump back into Hemingway after the terribly dull "The Sun Also Rises." I really liked his narrative style, feeling like I was right there with Hemingway as he took me around Paris. I'll admit watching the movie "Midnight In Paris" by Wood Allen, helped a great deal in visualizing the scenes and characters. Also, I felt really for F. Scott Fitzgerald. Damn that guy had some problems. It was odd to hear Heminway mention lightly, almost a non-issue, about having an affair with young woman in Paris, towards the end of the book. He seemed to have no problem detailing, and at times judging, others' problems but would sail right on past his own.

Now, I'm reading a few short stories by Chekhov from his collection "Forty Stories." I have never read him before but have heard a great deal about him being one of the best short story writers ever. The first one I read was "The Dead Body".... LOVED IT! The characters are minimal yet so deep. There are two guys, watching over a dead body, holding vigil in the cold wilderness as they share a fire. One is talkative, the other not so much. Then a man, dressed as priest but not a priest, shows up out of the cold, dark forest and then......you'll just have to read it. :) Great, sort of spooky ending

End the meme

Attention Pop Culture: here are a few memes that need to end: 1) retro TV shows - for the most part they do not work. Madmen apparently is an exception. Playboy Club is already cancelled, with PanAm not far behind. 2) trailers showing graphic violence/scary situations/horrific war juxtaposed with some soft/pleasant/happy tune. Thank you - Me.

My hero

I did this for some stupid diversity thingy deal at work a few years back. We were to write up a little something about any heroes we admired. Yes the diversity even was kind of dumb and time wasting.....but I'm proud of what I wrote.

Who is my hero?

My hero is not the type of hero you may be thinking of, at first. My hero does get millions of dollars to play for a professional sports team. My hero is not a larger than life mythical figure, in an outlandish costume, righting wrongs and punisher evildoers. He is not a celebrity in any way, at least not to the world at large.

My hero gets paid a modest wage that is far too small in comparison to his hard work. He always has for as long as I remember. He has worked to earn a living for his family in any way possible. Never one to ask for a handout, he would rather just get a chance to earn what he needs. Providing for your family is the most important role for a man.

My hero often wears a button up shirt and khaki pants as he goes about his day. You would not likely be able to distinguish him from anyone else on the street. He will make a stand, if he feels it necessary.  He preaches and practices respect towards others based solely on his/her actions.  Also, the practice of responsibility is paramount. In his world one should always be responsible for his/her actions, for good or ill, and should be prepared to face any consequence that may come. If he is able he will give a hand up, not a hand out, to those in need. He is not without faults; he is like anyone else on this planet, with the same fears, frustrations, and anxieties.

My hero does not need attention, congratulations, or seldom even needs thanks. He prefers to just get the job done and do it as best as he can. If his family is taken care of then he has accomplished his goal. That is all the thanks and attention he needs.

My hero is a working-class hero. And as far as I am concerned, “a working-class hero IS something to be.”

He is my father, Steve

Just a poor player.....

I know, I'm not that old, not really. I'm only 32 after all. But sometimes, I can't help but feel older than I should. It's been happening more lately as I see more changes in my life and in the world around me. So much upheaval; Living, loving, death, marriage, divorce, love found, love lost, terrorism, wars, genoicide, famine.....to everything turn, turn, turn...as the song goes. This excerpt from Shakespeare has been sticking with me a great deal recently. I often ask myself, what is my role in this play called life? Am I the hero? The villian? The lover? The fighter? The sinner or saint? The good son? The doomed father?

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players,
They have their exits and entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then, the whining schoolboy with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden, and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice
In fair round belly, with good capon lin'd,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws, and modern instances,
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side,
His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide,
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again towards childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
 Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything 

Man In Black

8 years ago today we lost the original country bad-ass, a legend, an innovator, Johnny Cash. Rock n Roll and country would not be where it is today without the Man In Black. He was so good that he could perform in front of a prison full of murders, rapists, theives....."scum"....and they kept it down and paid respect to Johnny when he performed. He is true country. He is rock n roll. He is folk. He was talented, giving, courageous, haunted, he was a sinner and a saint and everything in between. He was the embodiment of America.
Check out of his all time greatest performances "Cocaine Blues"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=svoGMzUoT30

beans on toast

I posted this on another site
Beans on toast! After hearing about it in another thread I had to try it! I grabbed a can of Heinz Beanz, direct from the UK and heated it, then poured it over some lightly buttered toast (thanks Mark). Perfection! Truly a meal of the gods. The beans themselves are very tasty, mostly due to the sauce, but put them on toast...and....damn!
A very good, cheap, mostly healthy, tasty meal.

U.S. Post Offce may default!

http://www.cnn.com/2011/US/09/06/postal.default/index.html?hpt=hp_t2

Here is a troublesome story about the USPS possibly going default. Is it any wonder? In a world of emails and texting, who really sends letters anymore?  The Post Office is mostly for bills, ads and junk mail. They say it’s a business. And of course the main focus of a business is to make $$. Yet the USPS cannot, by law. Take the restrictions off and let them make $$, like the way it’s done in Australia and the UK. Also, having HUGE union contracts doesn’t help either. These unions get so much in benefits it is killing the USPS.

False Moon

I was inspired to write this a while back during a very large, full moon. I think I should add more to this. Maybe turn into a poem.....don't know

False moon
The moon is hanging low, fat & full of itself in the sky with autumn hues before their proper time. It's so bright as if trying to mimic its brother, the sun. This attempt at the slightest of disguises is not met with disdain or anger, just unease. And why not? Surely this is to be expected, after all it waxes and wanes continually with clockwork precision. Yet, there's the smallest twinge deep within warning of something being out of place, being off. Perhaps this moon's light is not enough for us, not chasing away for too little of the darkness, providing no warmth and safety like its Janus sibling. This ruse will not be unnoticed by most and certainly not abided by those already upon an edge. Those razor walkers act out in rituals they may not even understand as a means to defend against such trickery, to banish this false moon.

Neverland is dying!

Here is something I wrote a while back about imagination and growing up

Neverland is dying!
As kids our imaginations are everything.  For a world that is so immaterial it sure can have a profound effect on the real world as much as anything. We could be and do anything our hearts desired; soar through stars, explore the deep oceans, save the princess, kill the villain, win the game, survive the battle, slay monsters…..all before the sun went down. There is a place that exemplifies all this; it’s the home of Peter Pan: Neverland. Anything and everything was possible there. You could fly, fight, crow and never grow old, always a child retaining all that bright eyed wonder and thrilling adventure. Sure you could dismiss Neverland, and other imaginary places, as not being as valid since they aren’t real. I say they are more real than anything else. These other worlds are still around, still standing, after real things have decayed and broken. These imaginary places can be carried anywhere or by anyone (though children have a special talent for it). They can be transferred and shared with others with little effort. Their availability is constant. They are always changing, yet always the same. How much more real can you get? However, just like more tangible things, lack of use or dismissing them leads to decay. As we grow older our imaginations lessen in their fantastical elements and become more based upon our daily lives.  Now, it becomes musings of riches, sex, love, career advancement and comfort from the rigors of existence. Neverland is crumbling, falling apart. We don’t go there as much as we used to. It’s not being kept up to its usual bright and beautiful self. We have television, video games and movies; that we’ve let completely fill our spot in our hearts for imagining. Rather than a companion to our wildest hopes and dreams, we’ve let them and reality take us over. Neverland is now a place of darkness, violence and blood; full of anger and fear. There’s little joy or fun to be had anymore. We grew up and became Peter’s worst fear, his enemy; adults. We should have more of a balance; instead we have fully, completely, complacently become …………Captain Hook.

Welcome!!

Here I am! You have been warned. This is my first ever blog. It just may crack the internets in two.....or not. What will you find here? Well...my rants & ramblings on all sorts of pop culture, including movies, books, TV, music, etc. Also, some more serious topics like religion, philosophy, politics. In short, whatever I find interesting. Hopefully you will too. What it won't be is hateful, mean spirited bitchin'. It's all about peace, love and lots of fun.