In our progression of modern day American society, we’ve learned there is no rest; something taken for granted. We work and work and work, and have one of the smallest average vacation times in the world per work hours. It seems the global marketplace follows us. In keeping with the times, and keeping pace with American society, many other countries have cut vacation times for the demands of staying current. We as US citizens often don’t comprehend other cultures, perhaps because of our sheer size, and we walk into other countries expecting our demands to be yielded to. It’s pretty arrogant of us, and pretty sad also.
When I worked for an Italian company some years ago, I fell into culture shock when in the first week the Vice President of the American division (a small personable company) invited everyone into his office for a “meeting”. Of course, being a new guy, I was expecting this to be some kind of “where we are in business” kinda show. When all the attendees arrived in his office after 5pm, he directs the head of advertising to grab a case of wine and some vodka, then proceeds to ask me- “Steve, how’s your family and how was your first week with us?”
On my guard, I was simple and concise. He continues to ask about the family and social questions away from work. Being attuned to American society where drinking in the office is a no-no, I was reluctant to have any. He says, “go on, have a drink- it’s ok.” We proceed to talk amongst ourselves, drinks in hand, all conversation about everything BUT work. It was great.
A simple example of this kind of culture clash happened to me constantly at work. I tried to find a balance between the cultures and did a lot of balancing. A typical conversation I’d have in August went something like this:
“Hi, this is Steve, can I help you?”
“Hey Steve, the order I place three weeks ago with the factory, I need it yesterday (take in mind orders took from 4-6 weeks when placed with the factory)”
“Sorry Joe, no can do- Italy is closed.”
“What? What the hell do you mean Italy is closed! I need my order NOW!”
“Well, maybe you think I got a magic wand. You should know by now, the entire country takes a break in August to vacation and spend with family. They’re workin with a skeleton crew. Guess you’re stuck.”
“I should cancel my order, I can’t believe this!”
“Joe, you’ve only been a customer 3 years and every year, don’t I tell you the same? Ever heard of planning? We give you some of the finest product on the market. These guys are artisans. Would you sacrifice your quality for time, or be able to guarantee the product?”
“Well,” he says, “call me back when they open”
“Great, talk to ya then.” I say.
Imagine that- a whole month in which most major businesses go on vacation… when I found out their maturnity program was 6 months for a mother to be…. WOW. I’m not sayin every company is like this, but it’d be nice to find this kind of company here in the USA.
My first week was indeed culture shock, but in retrospect, it gave me a great appreciation of Italian culture. It’s not ALL about business, but family, friends, and mental well-being; something which continues to creep away in the business of our country. Nowadays, you have little allegiance if any to companies. It’s customery to toss them to the side, as it is they toss you. What may have formed a solid career path has been flipped to a man vs work thing. With this lack of loyalty, it filters down into relationships with people around you. How many of you out there hang out with your neighbors?
I had plenty of other points to make when I originally wrote this, but it all came to a halt when my computer crapped out on me, and deleted the entire 1 1/2 pages I’d written. I was able to recover the first few paragraphs, but what do ya do? I was so pissed, I left this thing till today to try and retype the stuff. Yes it’s Tues.
I’m going to be on here sporatically in the next 6 weeks due to a move. When I’m relocated all will come back full force, most likely Fall. Gotta enjoy some of the summer, get the lay of the land. I’ll be back… (in my best Arnold voice)
Good morning all! I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve posted a blog, but the world has been spinning a thousand miles an hour in Robertsland with no little sign of relief. Some of you might know I’m in flux with a change of scenery. This cowboy’s gonna be movin soon to hopefully a better place with a little more space. A place to give me GREAT inspiration, and to elevate the creative moments to a new high: Change in my eyes is good. BUT, when it takes place it’s absolutely necessary to get a balance of the correct environment… it’s kinda like planting a garden. To till the soil, you must pick a place with good soil- something in which your first bulbs lay important roots and over time grow stronger and stronger. In a few years, the blossoms of what you lay, multiply and gather more wildlife, both insects, and birds and attract people who simply must know how it’s done.
I’ve spent months searching out the new territory, and with the Spring, my scope has narrowed to a township close to the “Future epicenter of creativity-
There hasn’t been a decision yet on exactly where this new home will be, but in the next few months hopefully something will nail us down.
Our own home has a contract and continues to move along. Although it’s a stressful time, I still try and manage to be creative. On May 3rd. I’ll be jamming with the guys at our favorite studio. It’ll be the first time since February we’ve been able to do this. Time is flying, and even when we did get together originally, I could only coordinate functions once every 3-4 months due to the heavy demands of each member. Nowadays, we schedule studio time to blow off steam which we all need to do. A little primal screaming, guitar cookin, bass sizzling, drum bangin has ALWAYS been good for the soul, and positive for musical creation. Just yesterday I read a poem in a funeral home (death in the family… another upsetting day, but at age 96- a good life) titled “I am Music” by Allen Inman. It was a beautiful piece and to find it in a Funeral Home, left me very touched. I must share it with you:
“I AM music, most an
I AM music, most ancient of the arts.
I am more than ancient:
I am eternal.
Even before life commenced upon this earth,
I was here - in the winds and the waves.
When the first trees and flowers and grasses appeared,
I was among them.
And when humanity came,
I at once became the most delicate, most subtle,
and most powerful medium for the expression of their emotions.
When they were little better than beasts,
I influenced them for their good.
In all ages I have inspired humanity with hope,
kindled their love,
given a voice to their joys,
cheered them on to valorous deeds,
and soothed them in times of despair.
I have played a great part in the drama of Life,
whose end and purpose
is the complete perfection of humanity’s nature.
Through my influence
human nature has been uplifted,
sweetened and refined.
A long line of the brightest minds
have devoted themselves to the perfection of instruments
through which they may utilize my powers
and enjoy my charms.
I have myriads of voices and instruments.
I am in the hearts of all peoples and on their tongues,
in all lands and among all cultures:
the ignorant and unlettered know me,
not less than the rich and learned.
For I speak to all peoples,
in a language that all understand.
Even the deaf hear me,
if they but listen to the voices of their own souls.
I am the food of love.
I have taught humanity gentleness and peace:
and I have led them onward to heroic deeds.
I comfort the lonely,
and I harmonize the discord of crowds.
I am a necessary luxury to all.
I AM music.”
- Allen Inman
All of you talented people who read this, take it and never forget our peace is found not only in religion, but in music.
I’m terribly behind in the submission of a few chapters to a literary agent I met at a conference a few weeks ago. All the pressure seems to reside in the search for being a home owner and not one who’s homeless at this point. I’ll jam it out this week, but between looking at homes over an hour away, having children with multiple commitments, attending the inevitable, and keeping my nose to the grindstone, I’ll try and get back on track with the blog. Thanks for your patience and keeping with me. Enjoy this GORGEOUS Spring weather.. It’s always good for the heart.
I like the fact when I get together with Mighty JV (master musical genius and guitar god), we mess around with different beats and rhythms. Sometimes we come across something which makes me stand up and start to dance. The song “Charo” was the result of one of our music sessions.
It was never a perfected song, it was strictly improvisation. Something fun to play, something for a good laugh. I can only remember it was after a few drinks, and we were loosened up. The rhythm came on and I was like “OH! Keep that thing spinning…” As it played I remember one of those Latin clubs where people do Merengue or Cha Cha came to mind, all in time with those perfect beats. What I see in my mind translates to what I improvise, and given that source of information, I thought of Charo who I was lucky enough to meet when I was eighteen at an airport lounge.
I don’t think anyone DOESN’T know Charo. I mean she was such a prominant player in the seventies, and I must add, she is a PHENOMINAL classical guitarist! She is everything she’s cracked up to be, from the short period I got to meet her. Now, if you picture an 18 year old (top of the testosterone charts) meeting Charo (mini skirt, and very revealing clevage line) back in the day… well, I can only say it was one of those INCREDIBLE moments. The outfit itself turned heads, and as I looked across the lounge, how could ya miss her?
She came to sit almost next to my family. As much as I wanted to meet her, I was shy and intimidated. I was nudged by my father (which I think he actually needed the excuse to go say hello, and made me the “excuse”) to go and meet her. It came down to a call for her flight, which was a private plane to Atlantic City. When she stood up, my father said, “this is your last chance”. So I ran over and basically fumbled over everything I wanted to say.
She was incredibly nice. Introduced us to her family (because after I’d made the initial fool of myself, all the men in my family came running over….) then she made me sit beside her for a picture. Can you imagine? She got my younger brother and said, “here, you sit next to me on the other side”. She put her arms around us, and when we posed for the picture- she yelled out “Chuchee Chuchee Koo!!!!”. MAN….. I never smiled so much in my life. If you threw a stone at my face it would have cracked and fell to the floor.
I think the whole airport lounge turned around to see us. Anyways, I still have that picture with her autograph. Moments like that ya live for….
Case and point, Charo in my mind means absolute enjoyability. When this groove came up, even though I believe she’s Spanish, I say Latin because of the groove. It’s not PC, nor is it correct, but when you’re spilling out words to fit a beat and improvising “poetry”- after a few drinks…. hell, ANYTHING can come up!
When you listen to this, understand, this is recorded right from the moment of laying down lyrics with NO clue of what I was going to say. I think it’s quite funny, and hopefully you will too. Feel free to dance, cause the music will get your ass movin. I apologize for being off key in certain parts, but those of you who are perfectly aware of laying down music and lyrics understand it’s a process from the creation to the perfection and THIS was a pure creation. It was never perfected obviously, but I feel like having a little fun today, so if you feel you want to have a little fun….
Go to www.myspace.com/funkthunder for a listen.
Steve
I picked up my favorite book this morning to find out what wierd and obscure stories happened in history today. I discovered the last victim of beheading took place in 1747 in England- one Lord Lovat and a mad search for a “new verb” took place in 1890 for something described as “progression by electric power”. We know the present word as “motor”, but some of the other terms as the result of an ad in the London Times were: to mote, to vril, to electriate, to volt, to bijle, to lect, to edison, to electrofer, and to propelect. I don’t know I kinda like to “propelect”. Sounds almost vulgar…. “I’m gonna go into the car and propelect”….. funny stuff…..
On this day my favorite architect died, Frank Lloyd Wright in 1959. This day in 1926 the famed Hugh Hefner was born. I don’t know, maybe we should have a Hugh Hefner day- a holiday which is celebrated with a joyful parade of gorgeous naked women strutting down the street. How many men are with me?? Ladies?? (Yea, right….)
Some how the other day, my story of the clay cow came into conversation. It’s really comical to look back on, but at the time it was pretty serious. My brother was hurt, but nothing serious…
We had a friend who’s father had a licence to get gunpowder. This friend, Joe, used to put some in a jar, bring it over and we’d get a kick making little piles, throwing matches in and watching it… yea, we’d be blinded by a big red dot, which would magically appear in front of you for a minutes afterwards… it was like giving a child a box.
Growing up in my household we often went to the local fleamarket and I always had a facination with old pottery. It was the archeologist in me. One day, I’d found a small South American Cow which was all decorated, and appeared like something done a thousand years ago. I’d bought it cheaply and tucked it away.
One of our early experiments involved both gunpowder and my South American Clay Cow. Our friend came over one night with some gunpowder. It must have been about 9:30-10pm. We had always played with firecrackers and if I remember correctly we’d gotten a mat of firecrackers from which we’d pulled a long fuse. We thought it’d be interesting to put some gunpowder in a container and see what would happen. We’d progressed from gun powder piles to more elaborate experiments, you see. Well the fact I had this interesting ARTIFACT, which was a container probably about 4 inches long with a small hole on the top and shaped like a cow… could be interesting…..
Joe poured gun powder in through this small hole which must have measured about 1/2 inch at the opening. The open area inside the cow was probably 3 inches. We had no worries, because even though we didn’t know what would happen, we had this long fuse. It must have measured 5-6″.
We moved in between the neighbor’s home and our own. Placed the cow in the grass and got prepared to lite the fuse.
It was kind of windy that night. I can’t remember who started to light the fuse, but it went out, AGAIN and AGAIN and AGAIN…. damn thing kept getting smaller and smaller, until it was about a 1/2 inch to one inch. By this time, me and Joe thought it was two small, but we couldn’t find anything to replace it, or how we could ignite the gunpowder. My younger brother- the balsy one- said, I’ll lite it. At first we were like ”no, no” it’s too small. “We don’t know what it’s gonna do.” After him being so adament, that he COULD do it, and he WOULD do it. We stepped back and said, “Ok, but it’s gonna be close - you better be on the run.”…. “No, problem…” he replies.
Joe and I took our cautious distance and watched my brother right on top of this cow trying to ignite the fuse in the wind. Now, if you picture a see-saw which is perfectly level with the ground and you add one heavy boy on one side without counter balancing what its going to happen???? The boy is gonna hit the ground, right? Oh yea…same theory.
Take a short fuse, a slight breeze and an ignited strip … the whole fuse went STRAIGHT up and dropped in it’s entirety into the Cow. We didn’t know what we created was essentially a bomb. That cow, blew into a million smithereens with the loudness of an M-80. It was SO LOUD both Joe and I flew into a panic about waking the entire neighborhood! We ran in circles freaking out what to do. A few moments later we see my brother limping away, moaning in pain. “Jesus, we said!”
All I can remember him saying is “I CAN’T HEAR A THING!” … “Geoff, geoff… you alright?” “I CAN’T HEAR A THING…”Shit,” I said to Joe. Let’s get him to the garage.”
We turned on the light in the garage and found little clay bits embedded in his face. He was bleeding and he couldn’t hear. Hummmmm, what to do, what to do…
By this time, it occurred to me my parents were probably awakened by the sound, and we needed to get him rushed into the house to clean him up. We all ran inside and I hear my father’s heavy footsteps hitting the stairs. “Get him into the bathroom. Stay quiet and I’ll do the talkin.” I remember my father half dressed getting to the kitchen. The conversation went something like this:
“What the hell was that!”
“Oh you heard that?” I said.
“Of course I bloody well heard that- it sounded like a gun. Who’s got a gun!”
Calmly I looked at him, “It’s nothing Dad. We had some firecrackers. We threw them down the sewer and you heard the echo.”
“I’m telling you that was a gun! I should call the police.”
“No, no, no, I’m TELLIN ya, it was the firecrackers. We don’t want ta get in trouble.”
“Do you know what the hell you’re doing?! You’re wakin up the entire neighborhood with those god damn firecrackers of yours! You get rid of them NOW! I don’t care what ya do with them, just get rid of them, AND I don’t wanta hear a a thing! You’ll be severely punished if I hear ANYTHING else. Understand me!!!!!”
“Yes, Dad.” I said, then kinda bowed my head.
“Good. I’m going to bed. You scared your God Damn mother to death!”
“Sorry, Dad.”
Upon which he went back up stairs to go to calm my mother and go to sleep. I waited till I heard his door shut, then went to the bathroom. I opened the door and my brother was there with a blood filled towel.
“You ok?” I ask. I think he shook his head -No.
Joe tells me he can’t hear. Most of the shrapnel was removed from his face with the exception of one piece of clay which I helped get out. I came to the conclusion it would be best to head in for the night, my brother could sleep off the ear breaking sound and it’d be all better the following day. I’d care for him like any big brother would.
As far as the following day goes, everything became sketchy. I scooted him off with some small bandaids over the larger knicks in his face and neck. I made sure I kept my Mum occupied as he slipped by and out the door. He still couldn’t hear much the following day, but as time continued, his hearing came back. He had that ringing sound for a good week in his ears, worse than any concert you could have seen, but it healed.
We were really lucky. This I knew, and I don’t think we ever asked Joe to bring over gunpowder again. One accident to many! There is a curiosity in children as well as in adults. The moral to this story is: it is possible to entertain some curiosities, but ONLY in safe environments. Becareful all. You don’t want pie in your face, or in this case- a South American Clay cow!
Remind me about the Clay Cow, and I’ll tell ya a funny story when I have more time. It’s already 12:40 and my time is squeezed.
I got to playing around with some words spontaneously yesterday morning. Basically, it’s about how we define ourselves. Many times people make themselves according to how the public believes you should be portrayed. They fall into this “conformity” which makes them one of a majority and would rather be one of a group and not an isolated minority. Everyone wants to be someone else. I never really understood this, afterall, our uniqueness is what sets us apart from each other. Let’s face it, we’re all different, no if and or buts. So for today- here are my doodles. Philosophers please - put on your thinking caps and return to your corner.
Why is it we fathom, where we fit is confined by what others think?
Isn’t it ironic those rythmes of where our path is, we sink.
Never was a painter, never learned to draw
Never was a writer, perameters of grammer are a bore.
Never was a poet, knowledge will never be mine
Never was a musician, though what I seek I find.
Never understood why others want to make you them
Cross-cultural differences of who they think I am.
Know one thing, which will always get their goat
There’s no one here but me, so you’ll have to sit and gloat.
Maybe I should title it “Just me”. Have a great day all.
I saw a blip on TV this morning regarding the feats of US Air Force Captain Joseph Kittinger. Evidently, he’s been recognized for his attributions to the space program in the early 1960’s. It was this program which made me look into him and his feat.
On the show, they talked about his skydive from space- an incredible 19 miles, almost hitting the speed of sound. It was funny, the interviewer said, to him, how could you see? His response was something like, “I knew it was there, it had to be there.” There was dense cloud cover below his helium balloon and from that height there was blackness. I remember him saying, “I did more praying at that moment, then ever before.” Can you imagine?????????
I find it impossible to try and grasp that. I think of the mythical scenario where two brother’s make wings from feathers, and as they neared the sun. The glue which held the wings together melted and they fell to earth. I have the picture of it in my mind, etched into stone, but I recall little of the tale. I’m a visual guy, remember visuals more than anything, more than words.
In 1960, he achieved this feat. He freefalled for - 4 minutes and 36 seconds- EGAD! Tell me that guy didn’t have BALLS! At 102,800 ft. the temperature measured 36 degrees below Farenheit. His top speed was 614 mph, a rate 4.5 times the average skydiver, due to the lack of air. As you approach earth, air is thicker and it slows your body down. Here’s a quote:
Nineteen miles high, he stepped out and began to fall. ” No wind whistles or billows my clothing. I have absolutely no sensation of the increasing speed with which I fall. [The clouds] rushed up so chillingly that I had to remind myself they were vapor and not solid.” - Once again I recall the famous quote by Mark Twain I engraved on my ring: Courage- resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear.
The event was documented in National Geographic. To this day, no one has broken the record. I mean, do you think you’d like to jump into oblivion for recreation? and you thought YOU had a bad job… .
“Yea, your mission today is to take a helium balloon to the edge of space and jump. We need to get the velocity of how fast a human’s body can go before it disintergrates. We believe you can do it- just don’t forget to pull the rip cord. Oh yea, and those clouds, they’re not ground- just trust us.” The absurdity…..
Kudos to Captain Kittinger. You’ve proved to me, in order to have ball crushing courage you must be a little insane.
Here’s a further article of THE MAN….. http://www.wonderquest.com/skydiving-ostrich.htm , just LOOK at the picture… whoa MAMMA!
I always have plenty to say, but sometimes I must say, I lack the time to. So for today, I’ll give you some philosophical food:
Are you an observer, or a cynic?
Amazing what a good night sleep can do for your persona. All the activities for the past week must have taken a toll on my body (which of course, isn’t as young as it once was). By last night, my brain had signaled the rest of it’s cells, “uh guys…. you’re in a forced shut down.” It was the first time in months I’d hit the bed earlier than 11pm. I knew I’d been sleep deprived, but when I woke this morning, I had a new view on life. SLEEP.
I told my neighbor this morning I’m a man of excess. When I set my mind to something, it gets done. I revolve in cycles, from one to the next. If I decide to do a CD- BAM, it’s full speed ahead. Last year, two CD’s to completion, to iTunes, and forward. If I decide to do a novel- BAM, it returns! A few years ago, I’d set my sights on a couple of children’s books (something for my kids when they were little). My friends in South Africa helped me with those (2 books fully illustrated by them) and even though I’d had more children book ideas along those lines (a series), I put them down to concentrate on other manuscripts, websites, music, art promotion, blah- blah- blah. Each one, again taken to excess- down right obsessive if ya ask me.
Writing is something I NEED to do, AND enjoy doing. It’s a kind of therapy for me. If I work on an intense novel and dwell in the darkness for awhile, I balance it out with something a little more fun like the children’s books or music. I hang out, drink, and spin some tunes, creation for creation purposes. It’s all connected- creativity & balance. No matter where you place it, it’s bound to show up in the strangest places. Here’s a funny thing.
I went to a writer’s conference this past weekend (for those of you who DON’T read this regularly). I knew the famous C.F. Martin Guitar factory was closeby (due to a flyer I kept from last year). On the back of this small flyer it had a map, which when I was near, I decided to follow, as best I could. I got there, with a few minor adjustments to my route. I was fortunate it was Friday, because the manufacturer only gives tours during the week. I took one.
It was ABSOLUTELY amazing! The work which goes into those guitars was unbelievable. Eric Clapton is one of their clients and really supports the company. It was established in 1833.
I learned about woods used, how the sound emminates, and the precision the instuments are made with. At the end of the tour, they had a wall of musicians who had specially limited guitars. Anyone who was someone in the music industry plays ‘em- and the guitar is AMERICAN made. We were lucky enough to go into the cutting room, where they take the blocks of wood and cut them into the appropriate parts. I LOVE the smell of cut wood, and to be in the room where it was done was itself- magnificent. They say nothing is more inspirational then smell.
I’d come across an article a few months ago which was on the design of a new instrument. Something VERY interesting, and VERY modern. I forwarded to my friend who designs his own. Well, the combination of reading, scent, and ideas- brought something to me which I will talk to him about. The design of an entirely different instrument…. SO, we’ll see where that goes. Inspiration is the mother of creation, correct?
My point is, if you have a foundation in something, or something interests you- look into it. Never limit yourself to one thing, because everything you do in life provides you with the knowledge to grow. Where you take it, or it takes you, you may never know- BUT, there may come a day where a small spark will cross your path. If you have the kindling (knowledge), then your fire will burn hot. To keep the flames lit, and yourself warm, you’ll need to resupply it over and over again. NEVER let it go out, because you can’t relight burnt wood. You always need a source of flame.
If you’re searching for the flame, get out and experience nature, explore your dreams, do different things- get out of your comfort zone- and before you know it- it’ll be there. Who knows- SLEEP could be a good start.