The past three days have been a WHIRLWIND! It started on Friday and continued into Saturday with an unbelievable writer’s conference in PA. Despite staying up tooooooo late, and having a tooooooooo much to drink, I found some INCREDIBLE company: Writer’s, Literary Agents, a lovely Editor, a soldier on leave from Iraq who needs to go back for another 15 months (GOD BLESS him!), and a nurse who worked for 2 weeks in Hydrobad, India. It’s amazing the information you obtain, when you know how to talk. I even discovered a murder took place 2 weeks prior in the hotel parking lot!
Last night, I went into New York to visit my friend D.V., a very influential painter, who’s been a friend for a long time. We went to a party in Grammercy Park, which was in a beautiful European home. The setting was like a medievel chateau transplanted from Austria. It had a wonderful balcony, from which you could spot white marble gargoyles on the adjacent building. The artwork and PARTICULARLY the frames were phenominal! The company was even better. The drinks flowed freely, and the food- magnificent. My eight to nine pm expected home arrival was pushed to midnight, which made my morning wake up call miserable. Nonetheless, I have plenty to do now, so off to work I go.
Stay well and I’ll catch up soon.
NOW- for the plug… check this out! Julie Walton Shaver (contemporary photographer SUPREME) put together the most incredible video for me, based on a photoshoot we did in Atlantic Highlands and Sandy Hook, NJ. It’s set to a song by Funk Thunder called “Visions”. I don’t think it get’s better than this!
http://www.juliewaltonshaver.com/steve-roberts-writer/
PLEASE NOTE: This blog was typed a few days ago, but because of problems with posting blogs I had to wait till today. Also note it was done after a few…. as you can probably tell.
Everyone has different smell attachments and when you think of urine… I’m sure you’ll have a million…. at least some of you will. Now, you may ask me, “Steve, WHY the hell are you thinking of urine smells…” Good question….
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I went to a bar tonight and what more can I say? It was a bar whose toilets smelled of piss. Not one of those pretty little hockey puck deodorizer places, but the stand up urinal where, the drunks splash urine not just in the urinal but all around it…. Sounds gross, believe me I KNOW… but some places are like that- like it or not.
I always associate the smell of urine with those seedy little bars you go to when you’re a young man/woman; the ones that serve cheap liquor and beer and you hang out and listen to area bands. For me, the memories I have are with places like < ?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />
Now that I’ve gotten older I no longer hang out at those places- been there, done that- HOWEVER I still go to places which generate good music. When it comes to good music sometimes they go hand in hand. As it happens, that’s NOT the case here. I just needed to get out, but we all know the memory name game… what’s that smell? Ah yea… that’s a memory. Something which was seared into your soul through smell, maybe vision, maybe something more, BUT for tonight I gotta confess it’s the smell of piss…
Music and Lyrics is a comedy which is so eighties, you can’t resist. It starts with a song by the fictional music group “Pop” titled “Pop goes my Heart”. A song which would have found it’s hayday planted in the mid-eighties when synthesizers ruled as the instrument of choice. The song and the video, which stars Hugh Grant is HILARIOUS! Problem is once you hear the song, you’re likely to be humming and singing its main stanza…. it’ll EAT AWAY at your brain… TRUST ME!
When you see Hugh Grant playing this eighties pop star, you’ll laugh, cause it’s retro Wham, or a dozen other pop groups. Drew Barrymore stars as the lyricist who brings the 80’s “hasbin” back to today’s music. It’s a realistic and touching piece about people who tend to never let go of the past. They live without the progression life normally takes, and everything becomes about re-living it.
I had a conversation yesterday about change. When you reach a certain age time slips and those who get caught up in it’s spiral tend less to conform to “the times”. They loose touch with today’s state of mind and become resistant to any type of HAPPENING other than the norm. They approach everything with cynicism, and will fight to remain the same, instead of adjusting themselves. It’s kind of sad if you ask me.
In an ever evolving world we must adapt to the times. If you can’t, you must find a way to position yourself- mix the old with the new. I for one am poorly adapted to the informational age. Fortunately, I have friends who are VERY on top of this. I adapt in certain ways, and I listen with open ears when I must- but I’m primarily an idea guy.
If I have a vision for something creative, I’ll enlist those who best know how to get it done. If they don’t know, or can’t help, then I’ll find a way to do it. Even if it takes me 10 steps longer than an intermediate or expert user. I’ve found at certain times, this is more useful, only for the case it may turn up something which wasn’t thought of, OR something which must be considered. No action was ever for nothing, knowledge being critical to every step in life we take.
There will be plenty of change in mine over the next 6 months. Most people would probably be leary, but I’m EXCITED… I’ve done my time at my home, and now, it’s time to progess… “move along little donkey, move along..” Besides, I NEVER thought I’d be so happy to get a dishwasher! YES, for the past 11 years I’ve done dishes by hand, dried on a drying rack, pots and all….. Nothing more humbling than doing dishes every day for 11 years! I’m ready to take a step up… and get a dishwasher! AND I hope that guy or gal has dishgloves……. (just kidding).
I used to say to myself I always wanted to be grounded. I drove a crap car, for the longest time, so when I drove it into risky areas, I didn’t need to worry about someone messin with it. The material on the roof started to fall in at the corners and I remember the windows being open and tearing what remained loose, till it practically formed a turbin on my head. It always had good insides (mechanically), but the outside was BLAH. Washing dishes was another grounding form, as well as “tilling the soil”. Nothing like a good dig to plant bulbs or a garden to keep your soul at bay.
Now, I’d like to move on to something a little nicer. I’ll find ways to ground myself again, maybe this time I can go paddling in a kayak, or swinging from a tree… I don’t know. One things for sure- I WON’T BE WASHING DISHES!!!!!
Stay grounded friends- it’s the BEST way to be.
I’ve never been a very religious person; however, it does make me feel good attending church on the important days- Easter and Christmas. Occasionally, I will attend outside those days, but BECAUSE I want to. I don’t feel I’ll be struck down should I not tend church weekly- it’s not my belief.
Today, I went to mass at the large cathedral in my town. My children are being brought up Catholic, so when I do tend church it tends to be in a Catholic church. I’m Protestant.
The priest was a very good natured man. He had a sense of humor, and opened up with a joke about the meaning of Easter and about “going to hell”. Since I can’t remember my foundations in my religion, I always felt uncomfortable when in church and people saying things like Hell, even though we talk about heaven and hell. His joke went something like this:
St. Peter is at heaven’s gate and three people stood before him. He asked the first, “What is the meaning of Easter?” The guy says it’s about coloring Easter eggs, and going to see the Easter bunny. St. Peter returns, “You go to hell!” (I said to myself WOW… the priest said to the mass- HELL). He turns to the second man and asks the same thing. The man looks at him and says, “Well, it’s gotta do with the bunny and how he brings children gifts and things.” St. Peter returns and says, “You go to hell!” – Looking at the third man, St. Peter says, “and how answer you my friend?” The third man, being wise enough to see what happened to the first two shapes up and says. “It’s when Christ was crucified and died on the cross for all of us. He was put in the cave and rose on the third day.” St. Peter very happy with his answer, told him very good my son. Do you have anything more you’d like to add? The third man brimming with confidence replies, and when he rose, he chased the rabbit to get an Easter egg…… St. Peter died of a heart attack. AND when St. Peter came back, he saw his shadow and returned into the cave for another 6 weeks…..
One of things he pointed out to us is about having a sense of humor. He mentioned how when he sees most of the people who attend the masses, only a few smile. So many faces are burdened with seriousness, or sadness and very few smile. He told everyone to “Lighten up”. I think it’s this densely populated area. Everyone is on each other’s doorstep and they protect themselves from a visual perspective by not letting other’s see the true “them”. I think outside of the tri-state area, people are friendlier and more at ease to get familiar with you- say hello.
When I lived in England years ago, I took a cycle tour of
They were just being friendly and wishing us luck. I for one couldn’t believe there were people like this! Even when we offered a group of guys our bicycle pump, who we DEFINITELY were convinced we’d never see again, (about 7 guys to us three and they were MUCH bigger) they returned with the pump and one big guy carrying his bike across his back. They found out we were from New York/New Jersey and then became our best friends, offering to show us around and telling us how many of their relatives live in the same area.
Getting back to the sense of humor- we really need to have this, despite the many things which affect us daily. It was his message to us, and I couldn’t agree with it more. As I stood in the packed mass at the back of the church I noticed during a verse in which parishioners sang, the light shining through the stained glass window directly in front of me to the top right. It happened to be shining through the white robe of Jesus.
I left today feeling very peaceful, which is how we should feel on days like today. So let me wish you all a VERY HAPPY EASTER.
It’s amazing when you stop to think of different observations we make and how they effect our lives. It’s difficult to explain the complexities behind WHAT we think changes us, or makes us move one way or the other.
I try and look at things from an outsider’s view (one other than my own) which is especially useful when I build characters and personalities in my novels. I can’t help but be affected by everything that’s built me from day one,but maybe I think more about it. The observations come up, and sometimes they inspire something wonderful.
I like to think there are reasons why I see what I do. I like to think there are observations which I interpret as “signs”. Some may consider them simply visions, but occasionally something moves me so much (given my own personal circumstances) I take it as a sign. Many times I don’t know WHY it has shown itself as a sign, and it just sinks in to my brain, is noted, and filed away. I don’t know if there is a context for all these “observations”, but often they overlap with work I happen to be doing. Either way, I think it plays into my work, OR my work sometimes comes before hand and the justification for the work is shown in the things seen after.
Case and Point: the music I put together last year with Funk Thunder came together EXTREMELY quickly. We put two CD’s together in a matter of a year (26 songs) and a bunch of other songs. Many things influenced the songs, and I still find things coming up which have strange connitations with the music. One song off our CD titled “E”, http://ax.phobos.apple.com.edgesuite.net/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewAlbum?i=271323207&id=271323136&s=143441 is a song about Thomas Edison. I live in the area of Edison and was inspired by a biography which came into my hands and his contribution to today’s society. I was further inspired by the Edison Light Museum.
All kinds of things influenced the direction of the song (for more details check out www.myspace.com/funkthunder under BLOGS) but one of the things which we did was to receite philosophical quotes on the inside of the song via an original Edison wax cylinder from about 1910. I had zillions of quotes to choose from, but limited myself to only 8 quotes. They were from such personalities as Confuscius, Einstein, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Berlioz, Goethe, Thoreau, and a couple of quotes by us also.
A couple of weeks ago in these blogs I entered a blip on Hector Berlioz, whose name keeps appearing time after time- it was his birthday. It leads me to believe I should research the life of the man. I hadn’t known ANYTHING about him prior to the construction of the song “E”. Today, I find Johann Wolfgang Van Goethe died in 1832.
I knew Goethe was a philosopher, but again, I knew little about him. I particularly liked the quote, “when ideas fail, words come in very handy” which finishes the quotes which I read. This morning I read the man knew 5 different languages by the time he was 8 years old. His final words on his death bed on March 22nd, 1832 were “Let the light enter”.
Now, this is an overlap for me. Many things have come to “light” lately and it’s function in my novel. It’s like trying to put a moth eaten cloth over a light bulb and stop the light from peering out. Many references are revealing themselves in stories of light in it’s many forms. It’s like the six degrees of Kevin Bacon. Everything connects itself in a matter of steps.
I’m not sure what will become. I think’ll be exciting, once I can sit down and really devote myself to it’s finish. Perhaps it’s why I was put here… perhaps I dream to much.. AND in the words of the great Louisa May Alcott, “My definition (of a philosopher) is a man up in a balloon, with his family and friends holding the ropes which confine him to earth and trying to haul him down.”
I don’t think I’ll EVER be hauled down ………
I think it was an old Seinfeld episode which spawned the phrase, “Ahhhhhhh Bach…..”. If I remember correctly, it was something Jerry told George whenever you’re in social circles and some one mentions Johann Sebastian Bach to respond with this phase and let them carry on. You simply nod yes to everything said there after. EVERYONE’S supposed to know a little bit about one of the world’s greatest composers who this day in 1685 was born.
Originally, when we put together our video for the song “Telefunken” (www.myspace.com/funkthunder) I was looking to unite music of the past with that of the new. When I listened to the main drive of our song (a harpsicord line) I thought of the 16th and 17th centuries and the musicians Bach & Beethoven. It was such a prominant instrument which was used to entertain the bourgeoisie and royalty.
The other prominant instrument in our song is a Theremin, which if you’re not familiar with is a electronic instument that emits a high or low pitch based on a hands proximity to an antenna. It’s common to hear the theremin in 1950’s sci-fi movies. My friend’s creation of the Theremin (which he built himself and housed in an old German Radio called a Telefunken) inspired the lyrics of the song.
In the conception of the video I wanted to start off with the picture of one of these composers, symbolizing the evolution of music and it’s connection to modern day music. It’s all about history. When you think of the things we base our existance on, there is always evolution. If you stood back to look at the Telefunken Thermin, it was a modern instrument housed in an old German radio from probably the 1930’s. NEW meets OLD. We obviously base much of our lives on history. In business, we always compare this year, to the past and always hope to gain at least a 3% increase on sales from the year before (in retail AT LEAST). In our personal lives it’s about the history with other people which are built over time. EVERYTHING is about history, which is why it’s invaluable to us today. In Shakespeare’s time, he used to base his characters on centuries before, yet used costumes and dress of HIS era. NEW meets OLD.
As it happens, I found a statue of Beethoven, in Central Park which became the first photograph in the series of Telefunken pictures. BUT Bach was thought of- Thank you Johann!
In history today the famous Hatfield-McCoy vendetta of West Virginia was ended when a son on one side fell in love with a daughter on the other side. They announced their engagement and a feud which lasted years went down in history- March 21st, 1891. Pocahantas died this day in 1617. She being the daughter of a Indian Chief who wanted to kill Captain John Smith saved him from certain death. She was seized as a hostage in 1612 and later married the colonist Mr. Rolfe who took her to England.
Plenty to say, just never enough time. Enjoy your day.
SIDENOTE: The “Ahhhhh Bach” phrase DIDN’T come from a Seinfeld episode, but a MASH episode in which Radar had a crush on a nurse, which he wanted to impress. Advice was given by Hawkeye. Sorry about that- this crazy mind mixes up things. Thanks T.
I must say today is March 20th. The past few months seem a blur to me, as I find this year passing faster than any prior.
When I was young I always thought when I’d reach a certain age, money would be plentiful and in shooting towards the goals we shoot for, I’d find I’d have plenty of time to enjoy it. What a falsehood, so naive was I to think money was without cost….
I must state (as a direct contradiction) I realized this a little later, as a kid. I had this strong belief that if you work hard and dedicate yourself to your profession, the money would come… it would always come. Hard work = recognition= money. It’s not always the case and one must fight to earn the recognition and thus the money, but at what sacrifice? Time.
They say (who THEY are, I’ve always wondered…) when you age, time becomes much shorter and whoever THEY are… THEY were right. Here we are in March already, and I don’t know HOW the hell we got here!
The second to last time I went into the studio with the guys (bandmates from MILC with the exception of the drummer, who played in) we were in short supply of time. At the end of our session, the bass player (who had arrived the night before on a trip from LA, or the Far East or somewhere exotic; made the time for the studio, and the same evening as the rehearsal was going out with his fiancé who he hadn’t seen in over a week) The train station was right there, and the owner had come in to take some pictures before we went. We had only about 10 minutes to catch the train- to which I was driving the bass player- but we were geared up to do something last minute for the pictures- something QUICK and FAST- IMPROVISATION at its best….
I looked to JV and sort of asked him- “Whadda ya got?”. He started to lay down this “BITCHIN” fast hardcore guitar line… the rhythm section kicked in with the pace and I started to improvise lyrics off the top of my brain about Time, cause we were so squeezed by it. I was in NYC mode, which is a minute to minute thing, as those who are familiar with
As I listen to it, I realize how ONE- JV was with his guitar, how the BASS player was ONE with his instrument, how the DRUMMER was ONE with her instrument, and how I was one with my voice and whatever forces were there to help me…. It’s a song which merges voices and becomes ONE: Pure adrenalin and pure creativity. It’s a beautiful thing when things come together like this.
Time is something to be appreciated; the fact of spending it with those true friends, and family and enjoying the rare moments of coming together as one. Never take for granted the others who are around you, and ALWAYS be grateful to stand in the shadows of greater beings. You my friends are my greater beings- thank you ALL! AND just for a little caption of the improvised lyrics (most of them… here ya go)
Time (a section of the lyrics)
It’s time to do this right
It’s time to do things right
It’s time to do this right
It’s time to get it right
Time is gone
Stand up
And face the truth
Time,
who has the time to be here
such a squeeze
gotta treat it right
isn’t it always the way
it has to be – squeezed
we are squeezed
Time
Who has the time
To listen- to do it
Make things right
Time
**Guitar solo***
Space- continuum
Time to watch us
For your next door neighbor
Everybody screams and shouts
Who’s got the time?
What’s the time?
We watch the time
We watch the time
We watch the time
We watch the time
Time isn’t time, isn’t time isn’t time, isn’t time, isn’t time isn’t time
Time isn’t time, isn’t time isn’t time, time isn’t time, ohh ohh ohh ohh
I get XM radio in my truck and all of it’s infinite selections. Of the presets, I have one programmed comedy station. This morning on my way back from the bagel store, Redd Foxx comes on.
I’ve never really heard Redd Foxx do stand up, but I grew up with watching Sanford & Son, which some of you might remember was a HILARIOUS sitcom. Him always claiming he’s getting a heart attack and bustin on Lemont’s Aunt Ester; him the KING of the junkyard, with a taste for anything, junk strewn around the house and yard- kinda reminds me of our house….
I bust a gut this morning listening to him go on. One of the funnies he said went like this.
There’s this guy makin love in a parked car in a park. A policeman comes over to the car and shines his light into it and says-
“Hey, you can’t make love here, it’s a park. I gotta take you in.”
So all this stuff goes down and he gets to court. He’s in front of the judge and the judge says. “Don’t you know it’s illegal to make love in the open in a park?”
Guys says, “But Judge, the woman was my wife.”
Judge says , “case dismissed.”
The officer all upset by this goes over to the man and he says, “Listen, I’m sorry – I didn’t know that was your wife.”
Guy says, “I didn’t know either until you shined the light on her face….”
CLASSIC……..
One of the quotes I read yesterday was things typical of the Irish. I overlapped on some and one I recall which I DEFINITELY overlapped on was “The Irish don’t know how to make a long story short.” Those of you who know me personally know the amount of writing I do here is just a sample of all the words which free flow from my mouth. I could talk the ear off anyone.
I once talked an entire business flight 3 hours non-stop from NY to FL to a fellow manager who was afraid of flying. Absolutely TERRIFIED…. The flight wasn’t too turbulent – thank GOD, BUT I motored about EVERYTHING under the sun, to keep her mind off the fact we were 20,000 feet in the air. The fact she had a few cocktails helped, but I served as a prime distraction.
When we landed she said to me, “that wasn’t so bad.”
I didn’t speak for days……
Two odd facts today in history:
Many people are familiar with the Grateful Dead’s song “Casey Jones”. Today, I learned who Casey Jones was because of his death noted in my book. Turns out his real name was John Luther Jones and he piloted a brakeless locomotive engine in 1900 on its last run. Jones, in an effort to slow the train, remained at his post despite knowing his certain death. He tried to protect as many lives as possible.
In 978, King Edward of
Top of the evening to ya, my lads and lasses! As you most likely know I’m English, HOWEVER, I’m an Irishman at heart. When it comes to being English or Irish, it’s really the fact I’m an AMERICAN. This above all else, is my primary state of heart and will always be.
I do have the appearance of an Irishman, with a gingery beard and facial highlights. I’ve been mistaken as an Irishman, and most people who meet me think I’m Irish. This was the premise of a screenplay I wrote some years ago called the Celtic Cross; all because of a mistaken identity. As it happened, the influence of the screenplay was through a chance meeting at a pub late one night. I happened to be there having a few drinks and waiting on my girlfriend to show. This guy comes in EXHERBERANT on life… EXTREMELY happy and a total conversationalist. He started to talk to me and we shot the breeze for a little. Bought me a drink if I recall, and ANYONE who buys ya a drink, becomes your best friend. He asked me about my name and I remember him saying…. “Oh, Roberts- sounds like a good Irish name. I nodded my head not wanting to admit I was English (knowing the fragile relationship between the Irish and the English), then quickly changed the topic. He challenged me to darts and I said, “I dont’ know.. I’m no good at darts.”
After he prodded me for a little, I conceded and we started to shoot. Wouldn’t ya know it- I did REALLY WELL! He started to look at me, and said, “Are you conning me?” with this sort of aggressive stance. I finally convinced him I was just lucky. Then he said, I’ll let ya in on a little secret.”
OOOO Ohhhhhhhhh….
He tells me he just got outta jail last night. It was his first night free and here I was playin darts with an ex-con. He then proceeds to turn around and say, “look at this….”
He pulls up his shirt and wouldn’t ya know tattooed across the lower part of his back was SEIN FEIN….. OH SHIT!!!!!!
Let me reiterate the facts: 1) He’s an EX-CON, 2) He’s FLAG FLYIN IRISH, ENGLISH HATING EX-CON 3) HE’S SEIN FEIN and……………………………….. I’m ENGLISH!
Time to get the FUCK outta here………………
I held all the stuff inside, and finished out my Guiness. Told him I had to be on my way, and graciously left. It really wasn’t a big deal. Guy was VERY cool, despite all the facts stated above. I never had anything against the Irish as an Englishman. I always liked the Irish and given many Liverpudlians were from Ireland, could mean I have some in my background anyway! Tonight I’m just drinkin my Guiness and being happy, cause this is what it’s about.
In 1965 my parents landed in the port of New York from England on St. Patricks day! I always found it very comical, especially with the English/Irish thing, and my parents who were OFF THE BOAT from England landing in New York no less, on St. Patricks day where everyone is sporting green, drinking, and playing bagpipes. They must have felt quite uncomfortable at the time, but really it’s hilarious…. no one can tell the story better than my father. FUNNY stuff.
I sit here tonight on my third whiskey sour. I’m listening to one of my favorite ska bands, Mark Foggo and the Skacasters. They created a song back in the Eighties which I wanted to die skanking to. It was called “Hello”. It had this rapid spitfire horn section and with simple speed lyrics by Mark Foggo… ya couldn’t help but move your feet too….
I said to myself long ago, IF I’m gonna go out of this world with a little style, I’m gonna get ALL funked up with platforms and all and SKANK to this song- have a heart attack and keel over. THIS would be the ideal way for me to die.. YES. If you listen to the song and imagine the high paced dance of a skank when you get older, it’s not hard to imagine dropping dead of a heart attack. When I was in my early twenties, I don’t know how I kept up with songs like this… your body could keep pace with this OUTRAGEOUS fast pace… but as you age, your body can’t keep up with your mind… at least if you drop the ball and DON’T keep in shape.
A couple of years ago it was funny. I was with a friend of mine, who’s always attended concerts with me for AGES. I’d gotten tickets to see a band called Fishbone. Back in the Eighties, they were big- did some ska stuff before they entered a dark phase and later returned to the high paced ska. Anyways, I remember when I was a kid I once crowd surfed across a bunch of people at a Fishbone show and when I turned to my back, hands under me, I was dropped on my back from about 7-8 feet up on my back. I hit the ground and as soon as I landed I was lifted up and tossed to the side, which was customary at their shows. I could BARELY breath and I limped away in agony…..
Some 15 years later, a little wiser, I watched the people who entered the “pit”- many my age TIRE after a period of about 5-10 minutes… it was comical. All these guys who once jammed back and forth in a crazy pit, throwing fists and their bodies into each other were DYING after 5-10 minutes…. it was like each one had smoked a pack of cigarettes.
Mark Foggo recently sent me two of their newest CD’s which are PHENOMINAL! The first song is called “St. Valentines Day Massacre” and typical of OLD SCHOOL SKA. The entire CD is excellent ESPECIALLY if you like SKA. As I listened to it today, I was actually SO MOTIVATED by the music I went to the ONLY Doc Martin Store in NJ (THOSE of you who are not familiar with Doctor Martin Boots need to learn… they are only the most FANTASTIC boots and shoes on the planet!) , in Fair Haven… wouldn’t ya know it, it was CLOSED! Something about Doc Martins and Ska…… I wanted some Doc boots… but I guess it’ll need to wait. In the meantime as Mark Foggo says,
Come on you ska people, get on your skankin’feet, let’s move to rocksteady beat
Let’s go skankin’down ska-street
Ska Ska Ska Ska Ska Ska Ska Skaahaaa
Check it out Check it out Check it Check it out Check it out!
Ami ami ami ami ami ami ami amigo’s!
Check it out Check it out Check it Check it out Check it out!
I’m at the start of a ska extravaganza,
Get up and down on your knees and your hands yeah.
Checkit out and sing along Ska 4 x
I’m eatin Keilbasa, drinkin whisky, movin my rear in my seat… yea this would be a good way to go……see ya tomorrow.
I wasn’t going to write anything today originally. I planned on spending a good Saturday doing things around the garden. It’s been a beautiful day, and I’ve done that. I was lucky enough to be rewarded with a couple of home made beers from my neighbor for the help on moving an armoire, which was much to heavy for him to move alone.
I opened my trusty dusty book- “The Book of Day’s” to see what interesting things happened in history, and just for the sake of putting something on the blog, thought to myself , I’ll make a quick entry- something short. I opened up my book and realized it was the Ides of March. I gasped, MY GOD, it’s the anniversary of my last day working in New York City…..
First, I can’t believe it’s already been 6 years! It’s a blip in time for me: a strange time when I left the city. It was a lot of circumstances which converged on the day and a lot of lead up to my written notice. I’d gone through a hell of a merger. It was only a small company, but a good one.. one who cared about it’s people and their support. It merged at a turbulent time, where my second child was to be born. In June 2001, the merge took place. My son had been born in April of that same year, and I always felt in my negotiations with my new employer, that my son had been used as a bargaining chip… something to me which was inexcusable. Nonetheless, I started with the new company, and the new location. Not long after we’d relocated to Fifth Ave, 9-11 took place.
We all know what happened after that. People reevaluated their lives. Started to remember what was important in life and that life wasn’t all about work or money. I was one of those people.
I continued to work and dedicate my days to my new company. As Guliani said, “in order to beat the terrorists we must work” they want us to fear the return to New York, they want us to fear our travel, they want us to FEAR…. I’d be damned if I was gonna be crippled under the fear of those fuckers.
Months after that, my infant son started to get ill. He’d been in day care with my daughter. Watched from the time he was about 6 weeks old, and he got sick… ALL THE TIME. Couldn’t escape those sick days, the temperatures, and the illness. In day care when they’re young like this… it happens all the time. It came to a point where my wife and I had used up all of our sick days, and I think the last straw came when I was called on my cell from the emergency room. I was in Times Square looking for a valentine’s gift. I was told he had breathing problems and I needed to be there. It took me an hour and a half before I arrived.
Two of us at work, sickness galore and to me a job had to be sacrificed. Mine was the weakest of the two, with the recent merger and my cut salary (some 20-30%), payment of medical (which prior was paid completely), commuting expense, longer commute, lost benefits… etc. It got to a point where I told my wife- “IF Shane (my son) gets sick this next week- I’ll quit my job…..” AND the rest is history…. It just so happens the last day of my two week notice was the IDES OF MARCH! A sign- perhaps.
When I left the office the evening I gave notice, I walked down 6th Avenue, towards Penn Station. I must have looked distraught- afterall I’d worked since I was 13 (between part-time and full time jobs). I can’t remember if I was talking to myself or not, but out of NO WHERE this short old man, steps in front of me and throws a fist towards my gut. I jump back and look at him. His head was down, and his fist froze before it hit me… he looked up, stared directly in my eyes and smiled at me- then stood upright and walked on… I found it stange and when I continued to walk, another guy bangs into me- says nothing and continues. The person next to me looked at me, and I questioned them- “Is it me??”
Afterwards I questioned the old man’s action. The fact he’d “joked” with me in amidst my indecision. I took it as a sign which told me catagorically- Youre doing the right thing. I went into my watering hole and started to preach to the guys about my sign. My friend Donald thought I was high. A few days later I remember walking up 34th St. towards Herald Square and I SWEAR I saw this same guy, hanging at the top of the Herald Square Subway station, watching me as I passed. Maybe he was my guardian angel… I like to think he was.
I free fell for awhile, thinking to myself - WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING! I kept convincing myself , what I’m doing is in the best intrest of everyone… I started to take care of the familia at home. Learned to respect those who take care of children and appreciate the simple things.
Here I am- six years later- adjusted to life outside the mainstream. It’s not easy. I do miss the NYC way… the craziness… the city itself. But I’m lucky enough to be able to pursue my dream (at least for now) and write you today.
NOW, WHAT YOU”VE ALL BEEN LOOKING FOR:
Today in history- Attila the Hun known as “the scourge of God” was profaning divine things at a wedding when he suddenly developed a nose bleed and bled to death. A well known 15th century gourmet named Sir Theodore Mayerne who once said “Good wine is slow poison: I have drunk it all my lifetime and it has not killed me yet; but bad wine is sudden death.” Wouldn’t ya know it he DIED from having drunk bad wine in a tavern in London! It was Charles Dicken’s Last reading in 1870 and My Fair Lady’s first performance in 1956. Andrew Jackson, our 7th President was born, AND I’m tired of writing……
SVR
Two topics of conversation today followed by another Blog entry from yesterday (a painting with words).
I’ve read somewhere or been told when one wants to succeed they must assume they already have. (It sounds very contridictory, but I’m a born contridiction). Now, you look at yourself and who you want to be, should you reach the pinnicle of success. How would you live? Would you be reserved and quiet? Would you flatter others with your ego? Would you be the same, had you not had success?
They say success changes everyone, but if I ever achieve the grandiose success I hope to one day accomplish, I don’t think it’d change me much. I’d still do the things I like to do- got to antique stores, fleamarkets, garage sales, art shows, parks, etc..
I suppose I’m caught in this delusion of success…. like it’s already occurred. I’m lucky in certain ways, and this I realize. Perhaps I’ve gotten a little farther than others towards my goals, but I have a burning ambition, which doesn’t seem to stop. It keeps me rolling along, doing multiple projects, towards that ambitious goal. Being published and helping others with the words I speak. Sure, I’d like to earn a little money at it, but really I’d just like to know what’s put together actually helps someone- make it to their next day, and out of the rut we all occasionally fall into. Maybe even succeed their goals. It’s not complicated.
I’ll keep my fingers crossed… and legs… and arms… and whatever else need crossing.
Topic two: Reminiscence
We’re always built on the experiences we lead through life. I received an email this morning from my friend Paul in England, who I recently sent a package to. It was a spontaneous package, one which was brought around by the attendance of an interview close to my old college in Wayne, NJ. The interview was for a movie extra which I’d seen advertised. I’d received a call, and set up a meeting at a talent agency. They told me to bring a photo and they’d see what they could do. They neglected to tell me WHAT kind of photo they needed.. so none were good enough, AND then they tried to sell me an acting package along with a portfolio package. The fact I had a WHOLE BOOK of contemporary photography of Funk Thunder designed by Julie as a prototype of work she could do, did little to effect the outcome. The last words I remember were, “Try and get me a headshot by the end of next week and I’ll see what I can do.”. YEA…. we all know in REAL WORDS it means “I’m being courteous to you, and if ya don’t want to give us money- your loss.”
My college was only a few miles away and I hadn’t been there in at least 8 years. I had some extra time, so I said to myself- let me go see the art museum, student center and walk around, afterall I did spend some 4 1/2 years there.
I’d forgotten about the nightmare of parking on campus. When class was in session, even back when I went, it was an absolute HORROR parking. I had to drive to the furthest lot, by the Recreation Center at the edge of the campus and walk. It was a little cold, but I like to walk and down I strolled the long drive to the center of campus. It had changed a GREAT DEAL. All kinds of changes. The most disappointing was the elimination of the school pub, which was now filled with fast food vendors- Quiznos, Burger King, Sabbaro… etc. Replacing liquor with food… where’s the sanity.
I speak to only three people from those days. My friends, Paul, John, and Lisa. I try and speak to them at least a few times a year. Paul went to the jazz program, a drummer who had a semester abroad at our school and was my roomate at a turbulent timefor both of us- HIM ESPECIALLY. I had only returned from my semester abroad program at his college Middlesex Polytechnic in North London the semester before, so I was readjusting to NJ living, as he was trying to adapt to it. We had fraternity roomates, of which we were VERY DIFFERENT from.
I won’t go into details, but my original point was: I picked up a school newspaper and a couple of fliers from the Ben Shaun Center of the Arts (the museum) and sent them spontaneously to him. I’d written a poem, he could certainly relate to, while I was walking back to my car and discovered, you can only visit the past, reminese and never relive it. However, you can ALWAYS REMEMBER those experiences as building blocks of your personality. Come into appreciation for the people you’ve met, the things that have happened, the way you’re shaped. I’m fortunate to have links who have always saved me from the brink. The world is a small place…. so NOW let me tell you HOW small:
When I was in college with Paul, I’d met another musician- his name was Lloyd. He had a girlfriend somewhere down South, and he had problems. After Paul left for England I remained friends with Lloyd. When our Spring semester ended, I heard he was going to live on campus for the summer. When I returned, he had gone- yet, left all his stuff at the college. No one heard from him, on his whereabouts. It was said he’d gone down South to be with his girlfriend, or something to that extent.
About a year, maybe a year and a half passes and I get this phone call from my best friend in high school, who attended Virginia Tech. He worked in a restaurant part-time as a cook for some extra money. Some new guy comes into the kitchen one day to cook along side of him. They get to talking, and Mark (my high school buddy) tells this guy he’s from NJ. The guy tells Mark, he went for a short period of time to a NJ college- WPC in Wayne….. (yea, you see it coming….)
Mark says, “Hey, my friend goes there, maybe you know him… his name’s Steve Roberts.”
Guy spun his head, “Wholy shit, that’s my buddy too!”
HERE it is…. Mark is workin in a restaurant as a cook , AND Lloyd ends up working the SAME RESTAURANT as a cook NEXT TO HIM! Crazy stuff………. in VA no less! It’s like my father bumping into our neighbor walking down a street in London, or Paul bumping into his friend from England walking down the boardwalk in Atlantic City.
The world keeps getting smaller and smaller. Always have a focus on your surroundings- cause ya never know WHO you’ll bump into!
I painted today (actually yesterday 3/13)… what I consider to be a beautiful painting… but it wasn’t there.
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All you see is in your imagination. What is presented is simply what you choose it to be; a mold in which you fit your perimeters of judgment, both good and bad. To understand the complexities of another, one must first deeply analyze self and know yourself as good as one can know. How does one do this?
You are a mirage….. a thirsty man or woman who walks with no shirt on their back. You hold no judgment on the person you see in the distance who holds water. You will take it, and befriend them, all your senses drowned. THEY are a mirage- Naked, as if born yesterday. You are thirsty, but there is no one around. The despair is overwhelming, yet there is a cloud- one single cloud- in a crystal clear blue sky, symbolizing patience… patience….
The cloud is grey, but holds a secret, you hope for, but cannot see; the water you so long to drink. The body is weak… the heat is searing your skin, melting you into the sand like glass, and as you look down to see a reflection- it is not a reflection- it is YOU.
At that point, you see yourself, stripped bare of all material attachments. The drop of perspiration which fell on to the glass sand, mirrors in the same way a teardrop holds your reflection:. AND you realize the cloud above you has begun to leak- a small cry, but without salt. Humbled, you turn over and open your mouth… you’re fed.
The night comes and cools the sands. The dreams, they are held by those who return to slumber, when darkness comes, but you are awake. You know what it takes.
A light in the distance, cast from where you know not… you must walk.. but you do not know where. There are scorpions that have come to paralyze you and you can only hope they keep their distance as you walk blindly towards it- the lights source. You see the winds churn the sands to the left… you see cacti to the right.. and even the moon has been shadowed, but your insides say… this is me… this is me….
You reach the light… they have a phone. You pick it up and say- it’s me. This is me. I am a mirage, you are a mirage, we are just mirages filled when we accept existence is what one chooses to make it.
A sigh of relief passes… and I too breath in the mist of another day. I am an abstraction, I am here, and I am alone.
I went into town this morning to take care of some business. I sent out an accordion to someone in MI and discovered it’d been damaged in transit through UPS. I had to file a claim, and blah, blah, blah.
COFFEE…. needed my morning cup to start the body and brain pumping, so I thought I’d go to the coffee store where my friend Steve normally has breakfast. I’d have my cup of Joe and a descent conversation. He was there, so we caught up a bit. Good thing about him, is he always starts me thinkin (not always such a good thing.. gets embarassing when smoke comes out of your ears…).
As if you couldn’t tell, I’m a self promoter. I was born with the “sales gene”. It’s something which I think runs in my family. I sometimes wish I could have a table full of these abstact bottled genes.. yea that’s it…. sell NOTHING, and make it out to be SOMETHING.
“Hear ye, hear ye, TODAY.. for your eyes only… the elusive “Sales gene”. Certainly you see nothing, but it’s there… you need to breath it. Open the jar carefully, stick your mouth to the edge before it escapes, and breath it in. Reseal it before any gets out. You’ll be CONFIDENT, you’ll be AMAZED…. it’s all in you now, all you need to do is open your mouth. The words which come out will be magical. You won’t even realize what you say after you say it, all you know is people will fall down laughing with you. BUT be careful… it tends to be an ego effector. JUST for your pleasure today, I have a special price on bottled “Ego deflators”. Even though they cost a little more, they’re needed. A special from yours- SHAMAN STEVE.
Well, I’ve been on a rollercoaster between arts for some time. I jump from Writing, to music, to art, to writing, to art, to music. I do the best to finish my projects and carry on.
I’ve realized over time, everyone has to pigeon hole you. You need to SOUND like someone else… You need to WRITE like someone else…. You need to appreciate ART like someone else, or if you help an artist THEY must be like someone else. Everyone wants to know you, but no one wants to take the time, UNLESS you’re like someone else. If you’re an artist who’s influenced by such a HUGE assortment of artists, musicians, writers, dancers, conversationalists, politicians, etc…WHY do you need to make a comparison? Oh yea, the mighty dollar. No one will take a risk, or contribute to the well being of an artist unless they know something will eventually come back from it. It’s always in the payoff. Sure there are plenty of talented people out there. I’ve known plenty of people with INCREDIBLE talent, who just couldn’t be catagorized. It was a reason I originally came up with my theory on “Isolationism”- which I catagorized as the artist who is influenced by memories both past and present and isolated from the world, or NOT being able to get away from one single surrounding. Certainly they have life experiences which shape them, and memories, and books and media, and conversation… BUT they care not to fall into a “catagorization”, because they are their own catagory. Multi-talented people who are ungrouped, BUT grouped by the isolation and forced to channel those things in order to maintain sanity. It’s a Loner sort of thing.
I like to consider myself in this catagory, but I’m different, because I can get outside of my immediate surroundings. For the time being, it’s a mind escape. I haven’t vacationed to the exotic places I so dream of, or put myself into a city I don’t know, which for me is crucial to the “talent gene”.
“Hear ye, hear ye… today on SPECIAL, this bottled piece of stone, branch, water, & glass representing every bit of talent in your body. The stone being your hard approach to life, and the ability to have a strong defense against pessimism. The branch being your ability to reach out and touch the sky, see your dreams and catch them in the winds of change. The water keeps your thirst quenched and health good and lastly the glass, which is always held over your head, in examination of your contribution to the world of whole. AND you can see back, it flips so you can look back. It’s a hell of a compliment with the “ego deflator”- $10 bucks.
I’ve learned to accept the fact I’ll always be catagorized, as well as EVERYONE else in this world. It does make me think though: who was Michaelagelo in his early years compared to, or Plato, or Caesar (in the entire concept of things.. not self inflating here) ? I like to think I’m great in some way… but not legendary. Certainly different. Anyone want to buy a bottle of the “sales gene”?
I used to have an opinion of Karaoke bars which wasn’t very good. It always revolved around the thought people went in to try and emulate their favorite artist or “rip off” the tune. To me, it was never really creative, after all the song books were filled with those who were the innovators and everyone else were just followers. To this day, I CAN’T stand people remaking songs- it’s weak, a crutch. I’m not going to deny there are some superbly redone songs such as Living Color’s redone Talking Heads tune- “Memories Can’t Wait”- but they were established as an artist with their song Cult of Personality. This was just an obscurity off of Vivid. The musicians who redo music after they have a successful career… ok, but to hit on a young audience who never heard an original, and think it’s an original…. I have PLENTY to say, but let me just say this- KNOW your music. If you’re in music, or want to be in music- know all types, get well rounded and perhaps you’ll be able to put something together which will turn heads.
The turning point for me and Karaoke came when I started working with MILC. I thought it’d be a cheap way to stretch my voice, have a few beers and sing. No cost for studio time, no disturbance of neighbors, etc. I started to attend more frequently before rehearsals, trying all different genres of music, and if I screwed up.. no one really cared.
You should respect the ability of someone to get up and sing in front of others because it isn’t easy and there’s this understanding usually at places that host karaoke nights. True, there are some people who can’t hold a note, but I’m no longer snobby when it comes to someone singing. Sometimes people need to channel a release and singing can be therapy. Allows someone to blow off a little steam, which is obviously needed in today’s society. I think this is probably the primary reason the Karaoke has become so popular.
I heard about this bar walking distance from my home, which hosts a Tues night Karaoke. Someone had told me it was a biker bar. I didn’t know much about it, but when I went last week to stretch the cords, I talked with a regular “Karaoker..” who told me about this place. I asked him about it, and he said it was ok; so I decided to check it out.
I pull into the parking lot- alone. It’s the writer in me to explore- sit, listen, drink, etc. I’m a self entertainer- can always have a great time by myself, but if there are others, I want them to have a good time and end up focusing on that, over my own enjoyment.
There were two people having a smoke outside the front door. The lot had a few four by four trucks, the majority being trucks and a few cars- no bikes. I saw through the glass doors a pool table in the back. On the front was a neon lit sign advertising “Bud Light” and packaged goods. Seemed a little run down, maybe even a little dark- but I like places like this. I wasn’t dressed in arguile, or sporting some shiny platform shoes; just sneakers, a cap, and black pants.
I walk through the door to a small crowded bar. To my right corner was a middle aged woman who had a screen above her head, a control board, and a small monitor. To my left was a jukebox, a table which had an older guy with a song book. I stepped up to the bar and was unnoticed (or ignored) for 10-20 seconds. I looked around for a seat, and saw my mailman at the other side of the bar! I’m friends with him- he’s about my age and shares a great deal of knowledge about music. His favorite band being Rush.
I go over to him, and finally get myself a Coors Light. Bullshitted with him for a bit, while he played pool. He knows I sing, so when he got up to shoot- I went over to the song book and started to peruse through it. It was huge- but was only one of two. I got in a conversation with the guy at the table, who had multiple songs to sing. He tells me about this guy who was a drunk he worked with years ago (I don’t know how it came up- people like to talk to me). A WWII Vet who flew over Europe and saw a lot of action. After he got stateside, he fell into the “trama of readjustment” and found it difficult to hold down a job. He said the guy used to toss back shots in the morning before his manufacturing job, find a corner to sleep, then come lunch do it again. When he was sober, the guy was great… but he had the demons he couldn’t shake. I redirect the conversation back to singing and listened to his advice on how it worked here. As I look through the book I come on to the song “Hair of the Dog” by Nazareth…. I was IN SHOCK……
Well, I figured ANY song book which has Hair of the Dog in, must have a WHOLE LOT of stuff. I picked a couple tunes by the Doobie Brothers, Eric Clapton, and the Doors. I figured these’d be good for the “older biker crowd”, and I was right. I like to sing more obscure songs people don’t readily pick up and do. Songs people recognize but rarely hear. At some point later in the night the MC announces an “Anything goes” pick. You could sing WHATEVER you wanted. To start this off, she started to sing this parody which involved care of her personal “assets”, I practically crapped myself! I laughed…
It turns out they have this whole section of songs which are dirty parodies. Remade songs with FILTHY lyrics! I heard a Grease song which was remade into this (how do I put this politically correct?) “relationship song” where one did some really interesting things to another…. ah hell….. “it involved fucking”.. THERE- I said it…
What a funny evening it turned out to be… I had so much fun! Now, I told you about “Hair of the Dog” earlier. The main frame of the song is the singer screaming “Now you’re messin with a …. a SON OF A BITCH…. Now you’re messin with a SON OF A BITCH”. I wanted to get up just so I could sing that verse… have everyone in the bar screaming Son of a Bitch! In a bar I’d been to before, I tried singing a song with the line “Fuck” in it… it was a restaurant… AND they went BANANAS! So after that, I’d shut my flap over that part, hum or tap my foot. NOW- I could actually scream “SON OF A BITCH!”. Wouldn’t ya know it- the damn thing stopped before my request could go on. The MC came to me she said, “Bring this next week”- love the song, which sort of came as a shock to me. Not a lot of people know who does it, or how it sounds from the title.
SO- next week I’m going there again armed with “biker like” songs- ZZ top, Ozzy, AC DC, Green Day, etc. I found a place I won’t get thrown out of for saying “Son of a Bitch” or “Fuck” Hurray!
BTW- when I started a couple of years back rehearsing in Karaoke bars I found out one of the GREATEST SINGERS on earth, actually did this - Robert Plant. So I rid myself of any “preconceived notions” of Karaoke- sing and enjoy.
One of the things I REALLY like about my dentist is he’s good. Dr. T (for short) has this sharp wit, and high paced lifestyle, something you’d expect of a New Yorker. Always smiling and a good sense of humor to boot. The guy also likes music and drives a Maserati. When he comes into the room, he’s like a fireball… some quick comical chat… then BAM, right into work.
Today, I had to get a crown done. Now I’ve never had a crown before, sometimes wished I’d been born with one on my head, but that’s as far as it goes when it comes to crowns. I’ve never really been scared to go to the dentist, and knowing this guy’s good, and the women that work with him are attractive- helps. HOWEVER, this is an appointment I’ve put off at least twice simply because I didn’t want to go. When I grew up, I had a decent dentist, but I never wanted to show I was in pain. It seems archaic now, but I always had pictures in my mind of Steve Martin the Sadistic Dentist in Little Shop of Horrors.
I work myself into this tizzy, it’s going to be the worst experience ever. There will be blood and pain, and a dry mouth…. the dust will kick up and I’ll be forced to sniff it on account of having several instruments in my mouth. EGAD, what kind of horror could this be, for God sakes, it’s a crown filling! I suppose it was the uncertainty of what to expect. I was cranky and walked around the past few days with this real scrunched up face, just wanting to get it over with.
I tend to make the absolute worst scenario and work myself up, so that if it’s any better… it’s all good. Most of the times, it’s a piece of cake. I pictured myself all woozy, figuring out how I was going to see the gear shift of my car, high on the dentist dope, to drive myself home. I think of all kinds of crazy scenarios, it’s just the writer in me.
So he bursts into the room and his assistant is laughing. He’s rubbing his jaw and says something like, “I can’t believe ya clocked me!” Now, I’m sittin in this chair thinkin- THIS is the guy who’s gonna be workin on my teeth (remember Steve Martin). He was busting her chops, but evidently she gave him a backhand when he put his hand on her shoulder and said something like “let’s begin”- start with my teeth in other words.
By this time, I’d been numbed, and I had “dull lip”, you know, when everything you say comes out with a cup full of saliva. They sit down and he tests me to see if I could feel anything. “Nope, nothing.” So he starts workin.
Now I’ve heard about doctors in the middle of surgery and the crazy conversations they get in. I’ve heard some play speed metal, some joke, and others just rattle on. I suppose you must detach yourself from the patient in order to do what has to be done. Picture me, sitting there, mouth open wide and NOT being able to speak….
They were throwing this dialog back and forth between each other, all the while I could ONLY listen. It was a Laurel and Hardy skit, the doc being Oliver Hardy and the dental assistant being Laurel. He’s yelling at her (with sharp sarcasm) and she’s trying to defend herself, ALL THE WHILE I’m under the drill , my mouth WIDE OPEN speechless. At one point I gergled trying to say something short and he stopped. “You ok?”- “Yea.” and back in he went. Trying to laugh with a dozen instuments in your mouth and half a tooth missing, was shear torture. So all I could do was look at them laugh and try and remember to spill what I thought AFTER he was done and I could rinse. Only problem is when the thought comes up, and you want to address it 5 minutes later- it’s lost it’s potency. When you DO try and address it, half of your mouth is asleep and you sound like some homeless guy on crack.
He started talking about anger management and if she’d have a job at the end of the day. Even though he sounded sarcastic, I couldn’t tell if it was more serious or not. He started IF she has a job at the end of the day… blah blah… SARCASM… But he’s like that. Funny guy. I ALWAYS liked the comical doctors.
When I had to make an impression of my teeth I had a little time to throw out some funny ideas on the whole scenario. I thought to myself, I wonder what an English dentist looks like? and How might one new patient react to a dentist who just had his tooth knocked out by a dental assistant? Do we judge them on the way they keep their teeth? or is it their personalities? We talked about the dental assistant falling down the stairs this past weekend and hurting her neck, and the doc’s Maserati, which has recently been hit for the forth time (in addition to hitting 2 major potholes) and is in the shop. Seems people like to mess with that car of his. When ya have $21,000 worth of repairs after an ambulance hits ya from behind, how the hell do ya shake that off! He’d shoot across a comment “look at the demon….” then laugh… we’d all laugh! It’s just good fun… I always get a little of that when I go there.
My primary doctor who I’d had for YEARS passed away two years ago. He was this fantastic guy, again with the razor sense of humor. BRILLIANT man, who once ran an operating room- he was an IRISH surgeon. ALWAYS knew what was going on with me when I called. He’d even ANSWER HIS OWN PHONE! It’d scare me, cause I’d had this gall stone for ages, which he wanted me to get out, and he’d always bring it up. If I called regarding anything, including billing or something, he’d pick up and say… did ya get that thing done yet? He was good about it though- he’d rip me a new one, but I never really minded. It’d get me to actually stop procrastinating. I digress.
I got my crown, without too much pain, actually very little. Had a good conversation (or at least witnessed a good conversation) and now I must go back in 3 weeks to actually have it installed like a piece of machinery. Maybe next time I’ll have to bring a recorder with pre spoken sentences which say- “Are you crazy- that hurts like a son of bitch…” OR “Saw your Maserati in the parking lot, some kid just spray painted it….” OR “My NOSE is dripping, could someone please wipe it….” Good stuff I tell you…. good stuff.
I wish I could describe to you the feeling of complete euphoria. I get that sometimes when I think of the people which surround me. I’m lucky enough to be inundated by talent. I like to think I have a little of my own, but really, I believe it to be those who are near, who help me in my inspirations.
I’m an idea kinda guy. I have good vision and can see people who have the same. When you are near people who have it, often ideas bounce from one to another. One idea, becomes two, two become three and continue as the network compounds. Each one taking a little bit, and making it larger- a larger than life kinda mission.
Often I have a goal, which I try to attain. Often I don’t know HOW I’m going to get there, but along the route to it, I bump or converse with someone who helps me see a small step on my way to the ultimate achievement. I do plod through and reach the finished idea, but not without help from a great number of FABULOUS people. I say again and again, we are all wheels.
Yesterday I was OVERWHELMED by the latest artistic achievement of one incredible photographer- Julie Walton Shaver. I had this idea, to promote my next novel and get business cards for a writer’s conference at the end of the month. Basically, I wanted to do a photoshoot, and have her make these things from the pictures she took. I took her to Atlantic Highlands and Sandy Hook, New Jersey- on account I grew up in that area, and it’s part of that area which led me to the inspiration of a particular character in my book. It had to be really cold, and very far from what you’d imagine to be the “warm oceanside”. The reason being, it reflects the aura of the writer. I can only speak for myself, but when I write, I step outside of myself and become my character- like an actor: Think like he or she might. I must ALWAYS be alone in order to have this command of emotions, no interference, means pure thought (for me anyway). It’s a lonely thing, and one which would be symbolic of a desolate beach. During the winters, it’s harsh, cold- no one wants to visit- the wind whips across the sands, the cement crumbles and the deterioration is inevidible. During the summer, it’s ALIVE, it’s visitors provide the money to rebuild it, the sun shines and people frolic in the waters, laughter and smiley faces. We see the double edged sword with the change in seasons. To be a writer, is to be an eskimo taking shelter in the igloo during a frigid storm and also be a sunbather basking in the sun. The creative spirits understand this.
So when we did the shoot, and all was said and done, I let her do her creative thing. I don’t say I want this or that, because I trust her as an artist. I say basically, “”This is my mission” and I’ll give suggestions on what I’m looking for. You do the rest- I trust you.” I know from experience, when you allow room for someone to be creative, someone who has vision as well as you, you ALWAYS get the best possible end result. Yesterday, part of the end result came in. I’ll let you be the judge:
http://www.juliewaltonshaver.com/steve-roberts-writer/
The music is a song by Funk Thunder (my band) titled “Visions” which was entirely infused by her creative genius. The words, work perfectly with the whole mission of my novel writing. I hadn’t expected THIS, and my jaw dropped as I watched the video. She’s done two other’s for Funk Thunder: “The Captain”- http://www.juliewaltonshaver.com/FunkThunder/ and “Telefunken”- http://www.juliewaltonshaver.com/telefunken/ She’s a very contemporary photographer and I’d highly recommend her services to everyone.
Then there’s the genius of Steve Epstein, who has done two paintings on commission for me, the first being the one which I TRULY see as me- the writer. It’s on my contact page at http://www.robertswriter.net/roberts.htm , something he created in a period of one sitting for about 2 1/2 hours. The other was a painting of Funk Thunder which I’ve used for the inside cover of “Short Circuit” and is even listed on Lurzer’s Archive as one of the 200 top illustrators -http://www.luerzersarchive.us/personalshowcase.asp?person=86269 . He’s represented by Arnaud International in CA, who’s commanded by the creative and beautiful Daniele Arnaud- http://arnaudinternational.com/ .
There’s my good friend Donald Vaccino http://dvaccino.com/, who I came to know as the result of a “watering hole” named Downtime in Manhattan. A place where I used to drink after work and a place I’ve met quite a few creatives when I worked in NYC. A musician who I also met there and has been a very good friend for years now is Jefferson Thomas http://www.jeffersonthomas.com/index.cfm . A BRILLIANT musician indeed!
There is the ecclectic bookstore owner named Alex Dawson who is not only a screenwriter, entertainer, and bookstore owner http://members.aol.com/raconteurbooks/ but a host to creative endeavors in which a large amount of local artists indulge their emotional senses.
I could go on and on and on, but I’ll leave it at that for now. My main point is to never lose sight you’re an island on which you’re alone. If it’s any indication that “You’re only as good as the company you keep”, I guess I could say- “I’m doin pretty good!”
I’m humbled by the company of new creative friends, those I keep now, and am a servant to you readers who find something in the words I speak. Thanks for helping me shoot for the moon, cause without you, I’m nothing. See ya soon!
Steve
PS- AND I cannot forget the ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT genius who makes my writer site one of the most exciting on the web- Jacquie Sylvia of JS Websolutions http://www.jswebsolutions.com/ . A dynamic woman of design! THANK YOU JACQUIE!
We had visitors today from PA. A couple of children who have been friends with mine since their births. It’s been a few years since last they saw each other (my older daughter is the same age as the boy who is the oldest of two). Being a keen observer, and one to read into the psycology of things, I watched the two greet each other. A boy and girl getting into the awkward age of middle school. There was this silent pause (for a few seconds) before my daughter stepped up and gave him a hug. It’s that moment in which you must immediately decide on what it is you should do… should you give a peck on the cheek? a hug? a handshake? step back and nod? What does one do?
It’s not uncommon among both children and adults when you first see someone you haven’t seen in some time to know exactly how to greet one another. It compounds the scenario if one is attractive, and the other not so- OR if both are shy- OR if one’s self esteem is low, and the other is high. The awkwardness never ends. It compounds things when another culture is involved, and where this greeting takes place. Who would have thought there would be so much complication in a simple hello.
I used to work for an Italian company. I ALWAYS felt awkward when either salesmen, or upper management came in from Italy. I used to think, should I greet them in the American way- a firm handshake- or the Italian way- a kiss on each cheek (to make them feel comfortable- like home). Granted males do this to each other, which always made me feel uncomfortable when in New York. Had I been in Italy, there would be no question on the greeting- it’d be a kiss on each cheek regardless. I was always taught when in Rome, do as the Romans do. I never did quite get it down when I was in the office in New York. Sometimes, it’d be a kiss, sometimes it’d be a handshake, sometimes nothing at all. I suppose someone needs to initiate the greeting, BUT there always seemed to be that awkward pause, right before someone ”stepped up”. You can also consider their position- are they on an equal level or far up the corporate chain, have you known them for years or is it a first meeting- YIKES…
My background is English, and maybe that further complicates things, because as long as I can remember, I’ve always given a kiss to the cheek of my father- the only male in my family I do this with. Always given the females (sisters & mother, cousins) kisses, which no one ever has a problem with. A few years ago my niece married an Italian-American, and again- I sometimes have this awkwardness of greeting. He’s very Italian, and does the kiss on the cheek greeting to close friends and family. Sometimes I do it, sometimes I don’t. There should be some written instruction book on etiquette for the culturally confused, like myself. For all I know, one exists, but I remain as confused as ever.
I know I’m not the only person to suffer this dilemma. It’s funny when you have a confident male meeting an attractive female or vice versa- there’s NO QUESTION on the greeting. Kisses all the way, BUT then there’s a question on the length of the kiss and where the kiss is placed. One could get in pretty deep trouble if greeting an attractive friend with a kiss to the mouth, or extended hug which lasts longer than a normal hug. I’d have to say a normal greeting hug would last approximately 3 seconds, but I think anything over 5 seconds might add a little uncomfort to the scenario and the people surrounding it. Maybe I’m analyzing this too deeply. I simply find the associations between people facinating, and the interpretations which transpire as a result of these.
What it boils down to is the whole essence of conversation occurs in both body language and greeting. It sets the tone for the “meeting”. After the initial phase of greeting, everything usually falls into place. I think it was always said first impressions are judged in the first 5 seconds of a meeting (don’t take that as DEFINATE, but it’s some amount in seconds). Could probably be a WHOLE book dedicated to the “hello”, and it’s nature in other cultures including our own.
In the meantime, I’ll just share in those awkward few seconds of every conversation with someone I haven’t seen in a while. Maybe you’ll join me. ”Cheers!” “Kisses.” “Hugs.” “Handshakes.” “Dances.” THE END.
Well first off, TODAY in history:
Oliver Wendell Holmes (jurist/author) was born in 1841 and William of Orange (King of England) died 1702. The first person, a citizen of Billericay in England was Tarred and Feathered- first treatment done in this way. Vietnam was proclaimed independant in 1949. NYC police introduced for the first time latent-fingerprint evidence in 1911 to convict burglar “Charley Crispi” otherwise known as Caesar Cella- 1911. Who could ever forget that Russia’s Revolution in 1917 began in St. Petersburg. NOW, on to Hector Berlioz:
It’s strange his name has continually come up for me in the past 6 months to a year. It started when I chose quotes for the last song we finished off our CD “Short Circuit” titled “E”. The song is about Thomas Edison and his idea factory, which was a warehouse he bought in countryside of then Menlo Park, NJ. It was a large barn like facility, on a quiet piece of land outside of Newark, where he had done most of his work amongst the urban landscape. With the purchase of this land, he devoted himself and his entire staff to ideas which spontaneously came up. He could utilize the instruments to make these ideas reality as they occurred, and over the course of 5 or 6 years, he created 600 patents at the facility. Amongst these was the perfection of the lightbulb, the phonograph, the electric pen, etc, etc.
The phonograph was “his baby” and when I thought about the significance of this machine and it’s contribution to today’s society (of course now we have iPods and all sorts) I said to myself I must do a little contribution of my own. I met with the Funk Thunder’s guitarist in earlier sessions and we had the music layed down. I had written up the lyrics to the song and I can’t remember what provided the spark, but in my research on Edison, I learned about recording and wax cylinders. I thought it’d be neat if I could get recorded on to one of the early wax cylinders with only the technology of the early 1900’s. I spoke with some very helpful people- one Jack Stanley- who helped me realize my vision. At some point, I decided quotes from famous people should be read on to the wax cylinder to create the “static like” sound of that era. Several quotes were chosen from all different people, one being Hector Berlioz. Now, I didn’t know Berlioz from Adam. I found his quote: “Every composer knows the anguish and despair occasioned by forgetting ideas which one had not time to write down.” WOW- how potent is that! As creatives, we’ve ALL had that happen! Great! I did the recording and used his quote which came out kinda ghost like.
After a few weeks pass by, I get this email from Great Teaching Courses, an institution which provides lectures on dvd, videotape and audio tapes. It was close to Halloween and they sent me a free lecture on line. On who you ask? YES- Hector Berlioz! I downloaded the thing, then tried to play it, and for some reason couldn’t get it functioning. I felt there was a greater reason to hearing this lecture and learning about Berlioz. I come to find the guy was a multi-talented individual who was not only a musician, but a writer….. woooooooooooooooo… spoooky. Anyways, I read about him and found some simliarities in his life to my own. I didnt’ commit them to memory (my memory is poor- I reserve the space for creativity instead), so it’d mean going back to read, of which I have no time to do now. BUT, as I look into this book of mine and learn his death occurred today March 8th, 1869- MAYBE I should check into it.
I don’t believe in coinsidence. For those who want to check out the song, it’s available on iTunes under Funk Thunder, my band. Again the title is “E”. Complete with wax recording……
Steve
PS- For a look into the band Funk Thunder check out : www.myspace.com/funkthunder