Yesterday, I came across the most absurd IDIOT, who decided to have a Bar Mitzpha for his dog. He had this huge party, invited all his friends and picked up on the publicity it’d get him. He spent something like $10,000. Are you going to welcome the dog spirits into human religion by having a Bar Mitzpha for him, THEN have him blessed by the Catholic church? - something wrong there….He said it was for his dog, but we really know who it was for, don’t we?
Now, I’m not above giving your dog a party. Give him something he’d enjoy- company with other dogs in a playground, something which involves his own species, I mean if I was a dog, last thing I’d want is to be hangin around with a bunch of humans. Give me something I’d like, a bone, a steak, a cat to chase, or an automatic belly scratcher.
Well, my anger about this sort of thing stewed over night and I woke up this morning with a giant light bulb above my head. A couple of years back I got a brochure around the holidays- it was 2006- an organization called Heifer International. It was all for donations for SUCH a good cause, and stemmed from the fact, that when we have a life NEED, we can make it if someone TEACHES us how to make it. There’s a song Arrested Development sings from years ago, which has always struck a cord with me. I believe it’s called “Give a man a Fish”. The chorus goes, “Give a man a fish, he’ll eat for a day- teach him how to fish he’ll eat forever.”
Here’s how Heifer International works:
You donate a dollar amount which will supply a needy family with a type of animal- a flock of chicks, a water buffalo, rabbits, etc. They get a nice letter from you on your donation. That animal will provide them food, wool, or whatever it might be for a year AND when it has offspring, they are required to give one of the offspring to another family who needs it in the community. The other family does the same and needs to give another family one of THEIR offspring- so in effect, you provide one generous gift and it continues to mulitiple through the community. It’s all about self-reliance, which is what we want to foster in communities who need help. You can also share in the cost of one of the animals, and contribute with someone else towards the purchase of these.
In 2006 the cost of donations went like this:
Gift of a Heifer: $500, share $50- a good dairy cow can produce 4 gallons of milk a day, enough for a family to drink, share with neighbors and still have left over to sell. Healthy cows can give birth every year- thus helping an entire community. Protein in milk transforms sick into healthy kids.
Gift of Goats $120, share $10- goats also provide milk, but can live in extreme climates and on poor dry land by eating grass and leaves. They give birth to 2 or 3 goats a year and families learn to use goat manure to fertilize gardens.
Gift of a Pig $120, share $10- the family gets a valuable source of protein, income from the sale of offspring and natural fertilizer to nourish crops and soil. They need little land and can thrive on crop and garden by products scraps. An average mother can have up to 16 piglets a year AND they usually double their birth weight in their first week AND can grow to over 200lbs.
Gift of a Sheep $120, share $10- wool to make clothes, or sell for extra income. They graze in the hilliest, rockiest pastures unsuitable for other livestock. Give birth to twins or triplets.
The list goes on and on. Some other’s which are included in here are: Rabbits- $60, share $10, Flock of chicks $20, Honey Bees $30, Llamas $150, Water Buffalo $250, Tree seedlings $60 AND you can do various combination offers. The largest donation which I find absolutely INCREDIBLE is what they title: Gift Ark and it’s subtitled “Changing the world two by two”. Now this costs $5000- so the above mentioned idiot could have provided 2 gifts which may have included any of the following and their destinations:
2 cows- Russian Village, 2 oxen - Uganda, 2 Beehives- Kentucky, 2 sheep- New Mexico, 2 water buffalo-Indonesia, 2 goats- Haiti, 2 camels- Tanzania, 2 Llamas- Bolivia, 2 Donkeys- Peru, 2 trios of ducks- Ghana, 2 Trios of Guinea pigs- Ecuador, 2 pigs- Arkansas, 2 Trios of Rabbits- Guatamala, 2 Flocks of geese- China, 2 Flocks of chicks- Nepal.
All I’m sayin, is if you have money to piss away, think logically. If you feel generous and just want to give, it’s all good. Give something worthwhile to someone who REALLY needs it, think about Heifer International. Not only do we want to give, but we want to give something which will keep giving. See them on line at : http://www.heifer.org/site/c.edJRKQNiFiG/b.201470/
Tonight, I regretfully say is the end of the Bejing Olympic games. I’ve been stunned, transfixed, joyous, and sad. The games stop everything in my world when it comes to television for two and a half weeks: netflix movies go to the side, and books I read are put down as I do my best to keep up with every aspect.
There was a commercial on tonight which had a voice over by Morgan Freeman. It was a very potent ad on why we watch the Olympics. “We come together not for what makes us different, but what makes us the same.” I think my dedication to the games and many of my philosophical beliefs come from my Dad. I can remember as a kid EVERYTHING stopping when the games came on. For the duration we’d eat, sleep, and dream the Olympics. He probably instilled many personal triumphs during this time when it came to foreign nations, and the adaptation to cultures you’re not one of. I think his brilliance in business came from the fact he could be a chamelion and become one of the people who’s nation he was in. He brought us up with important facets to adapt to the cultural ways of the people and to earn respect by not dictating your own beliefs on others nations. Take note of your surroundings and the people you’re in contact with. Certainly, the road to these ways were often tattered by horrible experiences such as eating things you DIDN”T like because you knew you HAD to in order not to insult your host. I think this is the biggest hurdle for people to get over. We’ve all seen moments in things like “Survivor” where one eats live grubs for protein, or things which are still crawling. I remember a phrase which always seemed to come up, “If you’re going to gain any success in international business, you must eat what they eat, breathe how they breathe, and do what they do.”
The Olympics isn’t just about it’s athletes, but the nation who hosts it. These past seventeen days were monumental to China, and it’s acceptance around the world. In the past, many moments have been defined by it’s politics and calous manner (everybody in the X generation sits with the memory of Tiannamin Square) but these games were indeed incredible. From it’s poetry and creative vision to the execution of its plan to floor those billions who watched. The hosts embrased their athletes and the nation’s athletes, brought them the feeling of home away from home. Certainly the ups and downs of competition were there for ALL nations and we’re able to be both excited and deeply saddened by their existance. The rollercoaster of emotion is always present.
The closing ceremonies were as impacting as the opening. In a nation like China, thousands of years have been built on tradition and art. Coelesance of today and yesterday was it’s goal. I can’t remember any other Olympics as impacting to me as this one. The Memory Tower which formed in the “Bird Nest” after the real flame was extinguished was true poetry. For those of you who hadn’t seen it, it was an incredibly tall structure built in the course of 5 hours in the center of the stadium. It was lined with people who wore gold on one side of their outfit and blue on the other. They would lean back and forth to imitate the flame which stood above all, in a symbolic rememberance. It was done with such intricacy that when viewed from a distance, it appeared to be a flame. What amazed me was the speed at which these people could change their direction as a whole and incorporate a human change to the structure. It was like a well organized ant hill, with every ant (or person in this case) having their own job to contribute to the home. They’d go up and down the structure attached to cords, in the course of seconds… the speed was beautiful with such enormous risk achieving the task at hand. I couldn’t help but get choked up, with the thought this is a passing moment- like every athelete who witnessed it first hand- part of me didn’t want to let go. As we all know, poetry is about being able to let go- seeing our existance as a box- because it is. We can see outside the box in which we live, and we can gather the information from the darkness, but there comes a time, when the box must be sealed and shipped to another location- it’s life afterall.
The Memory Tower is all about the flame which burns in us, grows our passion, and necessitates renewal. We each stand as a memory tower and we take those moments, like the lotus flower of curled people that bloomed at the structure’s side to grow. You can also look at it as each person in that stadium representing an egg in the “bird nest”, which hatches and grows, goes from being a child to an adult in the course of 17 days. Everyone grew there from the athletes, their coaches and families, to the thousands who were able to simply view it. The Olympics represents the stripped down beauty of the human as a machine. Dreams come out of these things, and so does inspiration. In youth it symbolizes strength and establishment, and for older atheletes it represents longevity and wisdom.
We always consider the Olympics sports for the young, but we know where one dedicates their mind, they achieve. Take for example the woman originally from the former Soviet Union, Oksana Chusovitina a 33 years old who competed in her 5th Olympics (UNHEARD of ESPECIALLY when it comes to Gymnastics!)!!!!! As an inspirational story, this one takes the cake. It was all thanks to her German coach (yes she competed for Germany)who provided help to her when her son was terribly strickened with Leukemia. She couldn’t find medical help in her home country and the coach helped her get treatment in Germany. For thanks, she competed for that country and achieved both gold for herself and Germany. She’s not the only athlete, there are many other stories when you get to know the people behind the medals, and I use her just as a pivotal example.
Before I die, I’d like to visit Bejing and tour these facilities- the Bird Nest and the Water Cubes specifically. For me, I think they’re the making of tomorrow. State of the art monuments dedicated to competition and the foundation of a new nation- China.
“Steve, what do you enjoy doing on a Sunday afternoon in August?”
“Well, I enjoy going to the NY Renissance Festival, having a few beers and throwing axes. Nothing makes you feel more manly than having a few beers, eyeing fair maidens, watching peasants and debauchry, then shopping for weaponry.”
Yesterday, we went on a family outing to Sterling Forest (yes, I mixed it up with SHERWOOD forest) New York. Through this month and part of the month in September New York hosts the Renissance Festival. It’s a fantastic time and one you’re sure to remember. It took me over 20 years to go (when it was first proposed by my good friend Mike, a college friend who’s past times included sword fighting, and dressing up in Medievel gear), but I finally got there.
I understand the place has been in business for something over 30 years. It’s far removed from city life, but I understand there are actually buses which can be boarded in Port Authority, NYC. When you arrive in the parking lot a giant rusted satellite dish greets you, like some kind of alien structure placed in the middle of the woods. The path is long, but when you finally get to the place, it’s WELL worth it.
Many people come dressed to fit the part and even their American accents disappear. You can order Mead, the sweet nectar of yesterday or beer and if you’re lucky you might even see a horse trampling or cat fight in the stands (true- at the Jousting tournement). They had all kinds of interesting shops, and they even had a shirt I HAD to get which had this beautiful gaelic tree decorated with a giant sun and moon.
My problem is when I get into that kind of environment, I start to feel through osmosis, part of the cast. I did wear my pirate shirt, and on occasion my accent switched into this deep English brogue when talking to the business owners. They, of course, play the part and are entertained at the fact someone dressed in “normal” clothes is blending into their world. This guy kept calling me back to buy some pottery mug, and should I had my book titled: “Depraved and Insulting English” (a book which describes perfectly tailored language for Medievel rebuff) I would have been good, but all I could do was growl and laugh.
The shows were packed with people if you got there only a few minutes before (I should know better by now, but I’m always last minute), but well worth it. I missed the birds of prey show, I couldn’t see the Mudd hole where guys enjoyed swimming in the mud, and the life size chess game was tossed on account of meltdowns with the kids, BUT I did get to see the Joust. It wasn’t as entertaining as I thought it might be, BUT one of the knights did trample Friar Tuck (a helper in the WRONG place at the WRONG time) which halted the show until paramedics could get there- no worries, that ole Monk got up and shook it off after about 5 minutes- and the fight which broke out between two women who hollered at each other was broken up by some hulking tattooed guys. Now, THIS is what I call entertainment.
One thing I thought was REALLY cool was the mini-catapults they had for sale. Not only did they have swords, daggers, shields, leatherware, chainmail and did I mention BEER- but they had rides for the kids which included a giant dragon- hauled up and down by some white haired guy who must have been in his 50’s and really fit, or the merry go round hauled in circles by a pretty muscular woman. It was all by hand ya’ll. It’s like when I spoke with my friend, “Back then you didn’t have the chance to sit on your lazy ass and type- you were shaped by the environment- only the strong survive. If you could avoid the lashings of the guys carrying the swords, of the flogging of public humiliation, you were ok. If you couldn’t… well… you were dead. “Bring out the dead!” as so potently put by Monty Python. Oh, and by the way- the catapult guys did try and launch a small cow (webkin) with their minuture trebuchet, but it didn’t carry enough weight. AND there was a “dead wagon” which circulated through the dusty streets.
This big kid was in a playground not just for kids, but for adult kids. Before I knew it, I’d blown through a lot of cash. I threw axes, shot arrows, tried on a leather vest which redistributed my belly to my shoulders in this tight V-shape, and realized- hell, I’m gettin old! Despite the aches and pains which the sun and walking caused, I couldn’t hold in my excitement. I’m still not sure we got to see the entire place. Usually, my systematic way takes me in one direction but with the sensory input, I found myself lost amongst acres of woods. Now that I’ve been, I think I’ll have to revisit. Plenty of things one can learn at a Medievel fair and with the addition of people in costume… now there’s a way to learn! Check it out if ya get a chance: http://www.renfair.com/NY/
Yesterday, I took my kids to the beach. First time the entire summer. Yes, I know….. there’s no excuse, except the beach is now 1 1/2 hours from us (the one I’m familiar with).
I grew up near the “Shore” and I remember as a kid spending plenty of my time on the beach. It’s where everyone would go hang out. There’s this peacefulness about it. Perhaps it’s the waves, and the breeze’s off the water- certainly women in bikini’s doesn’t hurt! I like to walk the sands and think, in fact I had my friend Julie take pictures for my business card which are representative of me, and the shoot involved Sandy Hook and Fort Hancock on the end of the Hook. See the video which remains on her site at http://www.juliewaltonshaver.com/steve-roberts-writer/ . Although the weather here was the middle of winter, and few people were around you can still see the meaning of it to me.
As usual, we brought the buckets and as is customary, we usually build some sort of sandcastle. We started our monstrosity and it was going pretty well. I get very focused and tend not to see what goes on around me, when I work at this. Afterall, I’m battling waves that want to wreck the fort. The kids and I need to continually fortify the land, like some masterbuilders.
About half way through our project, I noted the increased amount of people in the direct area. It went from only a couple, to probably about thirty. It wasn’t a crowded beach, but there was this curiosity. I think we all have that, when we’re aware something is going to happen, but not sure what. I remember a 1930’s picture where a man had injured his neck and he was told by his doctor that he had to keep his head held backwards, so his neck would cure. He lived in the city and when he started to walk home, he looked towards the sky. He followed his usual route and every observer started to follow with their heads held high. They followed him without saying a word, and before you knew it, 50 people were in a path behind him tryin to scrutinize what it is he watched. I think sandcastle building is like that.
By the time it was done, it was about the size of a bathtub, and deep as one too. The wall was thick and as the tide came in, it held off the water. Occasionally, a large wave would climb over the front and at one point the fort got a pretty good amount of water in it, which didn’t dissolve into the sand, but remained. A child who my son befriended (this ALWAYS helps the kids make new friends) asked me what we were building and I told him a bathtub. He said, “Why do you want to build a bathtub?” and I could only answer him with, “Because I thought it would be fun.”. My son jumped in the water and I got bucket after bucket of water and threw it over him.
I told the boy he could help, then I left it to the them to maintain the fort as the tide came in. I sat and watched as the ocean reclaimed it’s land. Plenty of people did also and you know what? I didn’t see one face that didn’t have a smile on it. There’s something about sand…. and kids… and the pure enjoyment of the ocean. No pretenses, no attitude, just ocean air.
If you ever need to get away from the urban jungle or the town, or you feel clostraphobic- go to the sea or take a walk by the water. It’s very healing. AND never forget the premise of that baseball field movie- “If you build it, they will come.”
I’m the kind of guy who likes to connect hypothetical dots, like a “mad” cook looking for the right concoction of ingredients. I grab something from here, a dash of something from there, and before I know it, it’s all tied together.
Yesterday, I went into Nyack. I’ve found a plithera of places to stimulate me there, and I thought I’d finally get the Hopper house. The Hopper house was the residence of the famous realist painter Edward Hopper. I was expecting it to be a museum, possibly even have some of his work there, but I found it was more of venue for local artists.
It’s a wonderful place with I gather has 4 studios upstairs (off limits and reserved for artists) and the downstairs which currently has an exhibit on an artist named Elliot. Out back is a small stage where musicians play or poets read on Thursday nights. Yesterday, they had David Amram who used to hang with the Beatniks www.davidamram
I’ve always been curious as to what inspires those people who have become so influencial to others, walk the paths others walk- like Thomas Edison back in Menlo Park. There’s a great many stories which can come to mind when you see through other peoples eyes, step outside of yourself and put yourself some where else. I think actors are lucky they can do this for a living. They’re like malliable people who build a persona to fit a story. Not all actors escape the role they play, for many can become that person for a short period of time. I heard recently one actor (who will remain nameless) has grown a fear to mirrors as the result of a role he played. In the case of writers, it’s not much different. They absorb the roles of others, create from their imagination these personas, and to authentically reproduce them, they research. It’s part of the process.
As always, I get away from my point. Yesterday, when I exited the town a strange facination with the architecture there occurred on the main street which exits Nyack towards the Palisades Parkway. It had a similar look to a town in England I once visited- Stratford-upon-Avon. Now, it’s been a great number of years, but I have a picture I took of houses which stood side by side down a main road. Each house over time had fallen forward or backward creating this “wobbly” row of homes. I recall they said the houses in Stratford where built about the time of Shakespeare and because of the movement in the ground, it caused the leans.
When I sat in traffic on the Nyack road, these businesses and homes where strangely similar. They rose up a hill and although they didn’t “lean” they were different enough to cause that light bulb to go “POP”. Instant recall….
Similarities, recollections, paths taken.
In a connect the dot moment, my walk in Nyack brought back my walk in Stratford-upon-Avon England, which could have been the result of a chance meeting in New York the evening before with the great great great (and a few other greats) grand niece of William Shakespeare. I had an interesting conversation with her and her husband who once owned an art gallery downtown prior to the collapse of the Trade Centers. In the shadow of the event, the business folded after the area’s businesses dried up. Amongst a great number of artists, they did their best to survive, but to no avail.
Life changing moments happen in this struggle to deal with the unknown, forces which at times show no mercy, and give no direction. Everyone has these moments and survival means digging into yourself and finding the real source of who you are, and what you need or desire to achieve. You really find your core then. Sometimes others help you find your core, because it appears misplaced and who is someone, without anyone? No one. Case and point, this couple retreated to CT and have sought to rebuild, document their journey from the 60’s through 9-11 in hopes others could be both entertained and learn something.
Back to Shakespeare: When you think about a family tree, you think about those relatives who walked paths before from. You think perhaps there’s a “little of that in me”. When it comes to creatives, and those who pursue the arts, you hope to have something in you genetically which pushes the boundaries of who you are. Arrive at a place you want to be, but not necessarily on the shirt tails of where you came from. Some take untraditional routes. Certainly, an ecclectic past forms the foundation of an ecclectic future.
I found out something interesting in her family and it was about the fishing bobber. It was created by one of her relatives in the past by the simple observance of a sewing machine and the way the needle moved. There was also something about a fishing reel, all formed from ideas of the sewing machine. I think this would make interesting reading and the fact I may have mixed up some of my facts from our conversation (I can do so, because this is MY blog and I write for no one but myself and those few who happened by to read it- NO I’m not paid for it) allows me to entertain you. For the real story you can check out their website at www.its-the-artists-life-for-me.info
AN OBSCURE THOUGHT: I once formed the design of a coat by the observation of a particular lamp (yet to be made, simply a drawing). NOTE: Never take your surroundings for granted.
Here’s a part of my connect the dots in this episode of “Writing for no cause”:
an email from a source on network party-contact painter friend, to see if can make it (no can do- regardless I go knowing the value of these things)- meeting person stated above and connection to Shakespeare- following day walk to explore town of realist painter Edward Hopper- observance upon leaving, triggering memory recall of Stratford-upon-Avon, noting architectural similarities- book in progress upon which architecture serves an important purpose- BROKEN DOWN AS FOLLOWS:
Network- ART- Writing- ART- Psycology/architecture- Writing
Oh, and I should ALSO note this blog as a result. In the end, it’s what I enjoy best: WRITING.
Here’s what I love about people who think they’re better than everyone else. At some point, they’re gonna face the fact they’ll no longer be best, and will be second to someone else. I think it’s rare, someone holds things like world records long. The world has become so competitive that there’s always someone behind you ready to try and kick your ass, so when you’re top dog, your constantly defendin the dog pound.
For you Olympic fans out there, I think you know where I’m goin with this. Could it be tonight’s 4×100m Mens relay in swimming????
I think so. I heard the leader of the French team was so beaming with confidence, he was quoted with something like, “we’re gonna smash the Americans in the relay”. Sure, they were favored in the race, but how many people like to see people eat there words (I’m raising my hand)?? Could it be a WHOLE NATION?? The French can be cocky, as we know, but I don’t think I’m alone in saying - ANYONE can be cocky. Now I sit back and watch the wheels work. I watch people MOUTH off, and now face 4 years of getting humbled by words they said. This guy Bernard, of France who included the word SMASH in his statements will spend FOUR YEARS going OVER and OVER those words- they’ll haunt him. Hopefully, he’s learned a valuable lesson in it all. Refer to sentence two, paragraph one.
Tonight’s relay was undoubtably the best ever done. It was stated over and over again by the commentators. Considering the world record was SHATTERED by 4 seconds, and the Americans beat the French by only 8/100’s of a second, blows my mind. What they also said, which you must give credit to those not even in the qualification of one through three is that team 4 and 5, Italy and I think it was Sweden, BEAT the previous world record!!! Think about that!!
I always liked routing for the underdog, but in this case when words are exchanged that put someone AS number one, I enjoy seeing them knocked from their pole. It’s a great experience to see someone cocky have the floor mopped with their ego. It’s a way the word HUMBLE came into existance, cause in age, ya realize there are other’s who will always be there to kick your ass from a pedestal. It’s a growing experience in the cockiness of youth, and is bound to happen.
Perhaps he’ll learn a lesson so next time, he WILL kick some ass. OR perhaps he’ll just wither away. When it comes to the competitor, it’s usually the first sentence. It’s what competition is about. Think of it this way. Someone insults your mother, so you beat the crap outta them, not only insulting THEIR mother, but makin ’em bleed for yours. They lick their wounds and retreat to their corner to recover, all the while remembering those insulting comments ya last made. They get better at fighting and then BAM, one day they come over and beat the SHIT outta you OR try to beat the shit outta you! It’s a never ending process. Look at the song “Rocky Raccoon” by the Beatles or watch the movie “Snatch” when the pikey gets his revenge. It’s not just competition, but it’s the right to say- I’m better. So, on that note: Bernard, “who SMASHED who????????”
I feel very privileged to live at this time in life. There are so many things which are happening and continue to happen under our noses, that one could keep a continue log on earth shattering discoveries, advances and progress in the world. Seriously folks, just look around you, read a paper, or listen to the people. This year alone, we’ve discovered there was water on Mars, a man in PA may have accidently discovered a possible cure for cancer, and of course, there’s the Olympics. Last night, a nation was defined by it’s opening ceremonies. I’ve never seen anything more SPECTACULAR than the opening to Bejing’s Olympics. From it’s newfounded architecture with the cornerstone of the games being “the Bird Nest”, to it’s unison of old China and new.
I couldn’t help but be moved by every intricate detail of the master artist who designed every aspect of artistic reference Zhang Yimou. It was truly a piece of poetry, which went from symbolisms in every form, to art beyond the imagination. I literally sat mesmorized, entertained throughly through EVERY second of media coverage. Emotional, to say the least! Usually, you find a point in every program that has a lull: you pick your kister up from the couch, run to the bathroom, get your beer or whatever. For God sakes, I couldn’t even go to the bathroom!!
At one point, Bob Costas announced prior to a commercial something like, “this is the Olympics, don’t go anywhere- but then again, why would you?” It couldn’t have been summed up better.
I stayed at the China Hotel in Guangzhou as a young man, probably twenty years ago, with my parents and my brother. The amount of milage he’d done to and from China and other places in the world, allowed us to fly to China free. He wanted us to experience it back then, and probably knew how impacting it would be to young men, like my brother and myself. He was right. One of the most impacting things was the AMOUNT of people we saw in the streets. At this time there weren’t many cars on the road, but pedestrians EVERYWHERE. People on bikes, walking, kicking up dust at every corner of road. The way the taxi driver drove, I thought we’d kill ten people by the time we reached the hotel. I remember an old man on a bicycle with a pole laid across his shoulders and water buckets hanging off each end. It was crowded and HOT, a humid sticky heat like the Olympians are experiencing now. It might have been the first time I ever had a beer with my father openly - Tsingtao Beer. There was nothing like a cold beer on a HOT day.
The defining moment for me at that age was when I woke up on the 10th floor of the China Hotel, looked out my window over this ancient square and found probably 200 people practicing Tai Chi. Everyone in unison, practicing their place in the solidarity of this excercise, every move replicated their neighbor, like a well oiled machine. I watched for probably about 15 minutes and it was the most amazing display of control I’d ever seen- UNTIL last night. The billions of people who happen to watch the Olympic games last night were probably as blown away as myself when they saw Tai Chi masters, work in a circle without spots on the floor to be guided around a floor of children representing the problems facing the country and it’s importance to future generations. Seriously, there are no words I can place here which could classify HOW powerful the Chinese opening ceremonies were last night. I laughed for fear of crying, as art, dance, music, and poetry formed. They had footsteps created from fireworks, I believe 29 of them, which literally went for miles across the city to the bird nest stadium, as some invisible giant was creating them. It was THE MOST spectacular thing ever! The stadium and it’s membrane of visual extacy at the edge of it’s roof, was something you NEED to see.
They say for China, this was a defining moment. It undoubtably was, and in some twenty years since last I was in China, I could see the future, I could see the vision, I could see…….
Moments like this are becoming more common, but you can’t underestimate the power of art, engineering and people to make our future. Last night there was a merge between old and new, and if ever there was a grand project to define a nation- the opening of the Chinese Olympics in Bejing 2008 was it. Thank you China, for this beautiful moment- it brings out the human in me.
Have you ever had the moment where you unexpectedly meet someone famous, and have the opportunity to insantly sum up your feelings after you’ve known them for years from a distance? I’ve had it happen a few times, and I’ve done like most people- choked on my words. I have no problem meeting people and talking to anyone, but placed in that high pressure situation of making an impact with only a few seconds to do so, can be crushing. You try and keep your cool while your insides are “freakin out”, and when those words start to be spit from your mouth, you find your tongue swollen, like you’d been sick for days or a squeek emerges. I once met Keith Richards at Tower Records in the Village (NYC). I went there for an autograph signing for his CD Main Offender. Now, I’d been a fan for as long as I could remember- I’d waited overnight, for the opportunity to say- hello, or something- anything. I mean here’s a guy who’s spent his life as a Rock & Roller, been seen by Millions and millions of people and had three generations of followers. I mean the guys an icon. When I got there, I can’t remember what I said, it probably went something like …. DUHHHHHHHHHH, I’m a big fan (something everyone says out of habit), or You’re the best. Walking away, all I could do was kick myself in the ass and say to myself, “You’re so lame, or you idiot!” My conscious is good about beating me up that way.
Purpose of telling you this, is last night I had that same kinda incident. I thought I’d grown cooler and more controlled as I’ve reached my “understanding” age, but found those few seconds haven’t changed.. nor has my concious. We saw The Police last night in their last concert ever. I believe this is true, because of the friction in the band, and despite their abilities to play like an ocean wave which caresses the shore- it’s not about the money- it’s about their music and the ability to accept themselves “The Police” as a band which reached it’s peak in the early 80’s. At Madison Square Garden, the B-52’s opened for them.
I’ve always been a B-52’s fan, but in all of my years attending concerts I’d never seen them. Always wanted to, but never had the chance. Last night they started promptly at 8pm with their golden oldie, Planet Claire. The B-52’s were always a fun band and one you could really enjoy, live in the moment and dance like a fool without a second look. I distinctly remember doing the Rock Lobster to a burnt out campus pub in the late 1980’s London as an exchange student. Legs and arms in the air, back covered in skanky goo and beer which I wriggled in like some worm on a hot summer evening. Yea, there was plenty of drinkin back then, and plenty of good times, but here they were- the B52’s- live and HOT. I mean two decades, still dressed in their funky fashionable styles and smokin up the stage in front of some 20,000 people. I can’t think of a better band to pump up an entire venue or stadium, to create this beautiful energy which carries on into the main act- the Police.
When the B52’s left the stage, we were pretty upset. I mean I was dancing, I think if I had more room I might have actually been on the ground wriggling in front of some corporate types- hands and legs in the air like once I did.
The Police went on, they again were flawless. Our seats were the best of the whole tour, and looking at the stage, we were on the lower right. We were close and I understand Mike Piazza was a few rows down. A few songs in, we see this commotion a few feet over from our seats (only 2 from the aisle). Here Kate Pierson was scooting down the column with either a girlfriend or a bodyguard. I looked in time to catch her red hair and a glance directed my way. I simply smiled. Out of all the B52’s she’s always been the one I would have liked to meet. My memory can’t forget the video she did with Iggy Pop for “Candy” in addition to all of her vocal work with the band.
We watched her disappear to the front and that was that. We focused back on the Police and the incredible music, just joyful of being where we were. Probably 10-15 minutes later, we saw her b-lining back to the main walkway which was directly in back of our seats. I looked at her and caught her eye when I leaned backwards. Everyone was leaning forward enjoying the show. She saw me hold out my hand to get her attention and she came towards me… “OH FUCK……”
The instantaneous moment where your brain is going a million miles an hour and your trying to develop what the hell your going to do, or going to say… her hands coming at mine…. Hold it steady Steve- this is KATE PIERSON!!!!! FUCK!!! Well, she grasps my hand and I simply said, “Your wonderful” which was drowned out by the show which was about 20 decibels lounder than any word I could have said.
Her gentle hand engaged mine, it was soft… I remember… and here I was, Kate Pierson’s hand was in mine, a few seconds… what should I do??????? Yes, I know what your all thinkin… I should kiss her cheek or something, but the fact I was probably two feet lower than her and had a seat AND rail between me, ruled that out- I could kiss her hand, but then the words, “You’re wonderful” were coming out and I mean, how could I continue this blithering conversation with all these barriers between, with no ability to talk over the music? I couldn’t…. and she drifted back into the main path with her friend to position herself better for the sound.
What’s one to do????
BEAT yourself up and down, again and again, saying “I should have done this, or I should have done that….” In retrospect, you can always say I could have, or I should have, but really- we’re all gonna have the moment where we just BLOW IT. I did this years ago with Billy Corgan of the Smashing Pumpkins, but that’s another story for another time. Frankly, I was happy just to have the moment… the end. Opportunity to hold the hand of a beautiful lady, a beautiful soul, amidst the most INCREDIBLE show- and I’m a non-fan…..
So Kate, if you’re out there in this wilderness of myspace and happen upon these few paragraphs, please accept my apology for my brief conversation and I still think your one of the HOTTEST ladies around! Drop me a hello!
Steve- Funk Thunder
I wasn’t going to blog today because I have a busy day ahead. The last day EVER of for the Police and we’re seein it at Madison Square Garden. So I’ll keep it brief.
I just ripped off yesterday’s date from my travel calendar. It gives a different location daily on somewhere interesting to visit. I always leave the day in place UNTIL the following day. Sometimes I find a sycronicity (could that be a POLICE song, which could be my FAVORITE? OH yea……) between what’s there and the process of creativity I do.
I wrote a song this morning titled “Language” which I believe will define Funk Thunder’s 3rd CD. It came to me in about a 10-15 minute interval- a flow which I captured from some rapper which came on the TV. I wasn’t particularly interested in the music, or how it was sung, but these lyrics just came- blessed me with their presence. Words are my backbone, and despite the back pain I woke up with, the lyrics reerected me. They sort of tied together loose ends for our CD which we’d been toying with over the past few weeks. Established what I might consider a “Mission statement”.
All this song stuff I let filter through me, and I’d more or less finished when I turned the page of my calendar. Perhaps I caught some European energy, after all right now it’s 4:30pm in Austria. Here’s what’s listed under August 7th, 2008:
Salzburg Austria
Mozart’s birthplace, and it’s glorious natural setting, is the appropriate setting for Europe’s largest and most important annual music event, the Salzburg Festival, which begins in late July and runs through August. Operas, symphonies, major concerts, and recitals are scheduled at different venues around town.
Call it what ya will, but I define myself by Mystical stuff….. aren’t we all just flows of energy??
On August 3rd, I was lucky enough to see the Police with Elvis Costello at PNC Bank Arts Center in Holmdel, NJ. There’s so many things I could say about the show, none of them bad, ALL good if you ask me.
One of the great pleasures I had before the show was people watching. As you probably know, I recently made the transition to New Yorker from New Jerseyite. I’ve been a New Jerseyite, born and raised up until a month ago, and with my adaptation measures which tend to kick in, I find myself analyizing the people from the outside at such an event. Now, I’ve always been open minded and am never one to judge based on looks or actions, but when I sat on a bench for an hour prior to the event with my better half, I found as much entertainment as the show itself.
First there was the guy with a fake Burberry lid. He carried a pouch which went around his waist and settled in his crotch. He must have been in his 50’s and he seemed to know quite a few of the people in the near vacinity. He had this habit of reachin down into his crotch to check and make sure again and again, his tickets were there. I saw him take out a wad of cash when a deal was struck. It looked as if we sat in the right area, early enough. It was comical as you saw 4 or 5 people on cell phones, some chit chattin with people suspiciously, and other’s lookin around for the security and state police which walked the grounds. It was as if we were on the floor of the stock exchange- BUY, SELL, BUY, SELL. Ya see, if someone had an extra ticket to sell, they’d offer em’ a really low amount, and turn it to make their maximum profit. Many guys do this, of course it’s illegal and it’s called SCALPING- in the Jersey state. Now, I’m not against it, but at the Police show, a HIGHLY viewed event with a high ticket price anyway, it could be like being raped for the real fan who needs to get a ticket. Is it a service? Yea, it’s a service, and I’m sure many of you people out there have gotten a ticket this way when you REALLY needed to see a show.
So these guys peruse the grounds gently sayin, “Need a ticket, got a ticket?” and they disappear when the Police come around (not Police the group, but the cops). In Jersey, some of these guys were down right BIG guys. Now, I know recently, or within the past couple of years Jersey has gotten its reputation from the Sopranos on bein a big mob state. I’m not gonna deny this, but I gotta say, where I was sittin was like a corner of little Italy with one guy who wore a “Gambino family” shirt and another guy yellin to his friend Lorenzo, “What the hell ya doin here?!” I grew up close to here and ya hear this or ya hear that, but ya don’t talk about it. Business is business and we just observed from our park bench.
Gettin to the point, my Jersey paranoia started to become a New York paranoia. It was quite a shock when it occurred to me in our trip down to drop of the kids with the in-laws, how we bitched at this slow person on a back road. It struck me we were drivin a truck with New York plates and attitudes.
“Down near the shore”, where I was once from, New Yorkers who came to visit the Jersey shore were called “Bennies”. They’d make the trip all summer long, jam up the highways and cause trouble in the shore towns on the weekends. The attitudes were there, and if ya said even the slightest thing off, you’d be lookin at a fight. Here we are, behind this slow guy and this light bulb comes on in my head, “HOLY SHIT, we got NY plates on this truck, we’re ridin the ass of a guy from Jersey and this guy is probably lookin in his rearview mirror seein just the grill of the truck and NY plates: ”Who’s this Bennie?” he’s probably thinkin to himself.
From now on, we can’t defend ourselves from the fact we ARE BENNIES! Hell, I got a NY licence, plates and the only time I can come down to visit relatives in Jersey will be weekends… man, oh man…… the fact I’d spent 35 years (or more) in the Jersey state couldn’t be defended!
So all these things start poppin in my head when my truck is parked in the lot of the Police show. I got NY plates and a blaring car alarm. I could lock my car, but if someone knocks it by accident and the alarm goes off- then my car might have someone mess it up, bang it, or do who knows what. (Sidenote: if you want an idea of how people around the shore are like check out the movie Clerks.. this’ll give ya a clue to my paranoias….). I had the other risky chance of leavin the car open. Now with my perch from the bench I saw how the crowd was- mostly families with an average age of about 35. I figured this’d be my best option. Sure if some wise guy came around and opened the car, what could he steal? One kids chair, some empty bottles, or a couple of CD’s, the other option was if they saw the plates and realized I was a New Yorker, they may take it out on my truck figurin I was a New Yorker. In my youth this could have been done in a thousand horrible ways, which only compounded my paranoia when I left it open. I buried the thoughts cause this is a family crowd. If it was something like a Korn show, or Ozzy fest….alarm 100%.
My wife is a HUGE Police fan. Has been since she was young, but never had the opportunity to see them until last year. Last year’s show the tickets weren’t that good. I thought I’d make up for it this year. It was funny cause when we stood on the line for merchandise this woman comes up behind me, puts her arms around me from behind and startles the HELL outta me when she says to my wife, “I’m gonna steal your husband…” I turn around with shock to find it’s my cousin Jane who’s come with her daughter and my other cousin Jennifer. It’s that Roberts sense of humor.Not only did we meet them, but I had an occurance with Anthony (or as we might say it Ant-eny) a guy who I’d worked with over 15 years ago! He recognized me, and although I’d recognized him, I could place where. When he told me Color Tile, I damn near died. I worked there in the early 90’s for maybe maximum of a year. This guy was always the best freakin salesman, fantastic memory and one piece of work. It was good to see that guy and exchange a few words. Only wish it could have been a little longer.
We agreed to meet a couple of our friends in front of the place just to see them. We get to see them maybe once or twice a year, afterall, we both have kids and it’s deficult to have the time to interact when you live 60 miles away. I told them of havin to do the Cheesiest photo for the rock station 104.3 to get a CD- beat out 3 guys who did some crazy pose. (Sidenote: Gotta look for that…) and we told them about Bono, who was walkin around the place and gettin second looks from everyone. I figured at first it was just someone who looked like him, but I had to question myself, so I went by slowly when he was talkin to a couple of guys, I hear him say he’s from “Jersey” with an accent that resembled the word… but he really did turn heads. It was an impersonator.
The show: FUCKIN incredible. These guys after 20 years of not playin were so ON, it was ridiculious. They played all of the expected tunes with precision. I looked at Andy Sommers, who’s guitar just blew the place away with a new respect. He always seemed to be the laid back one, but that mother fucker can PLAY. Stewart Copeland- well, he’s a drummer who I like to compare with Neal Peart of Rush as one of the best drummers in the world. Then of course there’s Sting. Sting not just plays a great base, his voice is awesome, with one problem- he KNOWS it. He always seemed to be a cocky kinda guy and does his own thing. Personally, I think he’s a little stuck on himself and when he hears the crowd echo back his words it sorta elevates him in the same way a King gets elevated by his troops before going into battle. Regardless, when he plays with the Police, he gives them the utmost respect on stage and I think this time around, I actually enjoyed him.
There’s a new role model for me when it comes to a group of banded musicians, and that’s the Police. I understand, even back in the day, they didn’t drink. It was all about music and where it could go. Testing the limits and going there. I recently watched a video on the swing of the 30’s. Bennie Goodman and Artie Shaw were rivals when it came to clarinet, and leading big band swing. There was a quote which Artie Shaw had said about Glenn Miller, which I had to write down. It couldn’t have captured a more realistic approach to music. “Glenn Miller was a straight laced, middle of the road, business guy. His only problem was he never made a mistake. If you never make a mistake, you’re not trying, you’re not playing at the edge of your ability, you playing safely within your limits and you know what you CAN do and after awhile it sounds extremely BORING.” Many people go down that road, precision is good to a point, but to achieve means to take risks, go outside your box and try new things. Progression is all about that, it’s founded on error. Errors are made, adjustments follow, and music continues. The Police were so in tune with each other they ran with this supernatural flow. One can only hope to achieve this kind of precision live. Makes me look forward to their show Thursday.
Oh, and for those Elvis Costello fans- he kicked ass too.
This particular blog is a two fold blog. I come to think of it as a “don’t count your eggs” sort of blog, where you tend to say- HEY, there’s 6 eggs in this basket, turning your head and not realizing someone “pinched” (as my father might say with his English accent) two to eat them while you weren’t watching.
I made the terrific blunder of predicting a meeting of the music minds would produce some glorious results. Well, here I am in the role of mystified chicken- Bock bock bock. It’s not that our results weren’t good, they weren’t what I expected. After 8 months or more and having only a slight idea on the vision of our third album, I expected to go in- WING it and come out like we usually did, with approximately 5 songs complete. Here’s the thing…. in life when you’re going in to do a project, you should be somewhat prepared. If you don’t have an idea on where you’re going, bombard yourself with art, be sober and ready to work. I did the bombardment (should have done my customary visit to a museum before getting together) with VCR tapes, and reading however I didn’t read through my older work. I had produced a few songs this past week, but hadn’t realized my old work was in a different place and now with this rejuvenated feeling, they didn’t work anymore.
I arrived early and visited the Brickhouse, a local microbrewery in Patchogue. I ordered a sampler which provided me with a blonde ale, red ale, a SUPERB cream stout, a lager, a wheat and something else. Let me tell you, when you combine a humid heat a few beers, all it does is get you tired. Considering I didn’t have my recooperation nap, I felt drained when we began. We grabbed a couple of beers and JV decided it’d be best to stay clean of the beer on account of the heat and being brighter than me, would be effected on the fatigue front. After 3 1/2 hours going between several songs, we decided to take a brake close to midnight for some Taco Bell. We approached and found a line literally 7-8 cars long, filled with all kind of characters. After they closed the inside, even a couple of tattooed kids on BMX bikes joined the squad.
When we got back to work, with a fresh batch of caffine pouring through my veins, I felt recharged but I felt my partner was on the sleepy slide. We banged out a song I titled “Caveman” which was much more simplistic in nature, but I realized I just didn’t have the excitement I thought I would. We both realized it didn’t come together like we thought it would. But no work ever achieved was for no results- next time will be better. It was the kick in the ass I needed to prepare, prepare, prepare.
You may be wondering why I titled this Salvador Dali & the Egg. Technically, it’s about the first phrase, in the first paragraph- “Counting your eggs”. Well, Salvador Dali had a thing about eggs, which you’ll find in many of his paintings. There’s even a piece of film footage of him inside an egg breaking out, symbolic of his starting life. I distinctly remember him pouring red paint from the egg to symbolize blood. The egg, representative of life and the evolution from outside the shell, is something we all have despite being born from the womb. In some ways I think I’ve broken through the shell, in my new environment- a new start creatively.
Yesterday, the day after our studio time, we took a trip into New York City to visit the Salvador Dali exhibit at the Museum of Modern Art. It’s titled Dali & Film, and shows some rare and unseen film footage. It also brings together a compilation of paintings and visual effects he intended to use for his film. It’s a fantastic exhibit, and one I’d highly recommend to any of you film fans, art fans, and ESPECIALLY those who have an interest in Dali. I saw an interesting work done by Andy Warhol of Salvador’s face as he watched the lense of the camera. It focused on his expression which remained in one spot for a period of minutes (those of you who know Dali know his Mad crazy expressions) , his mustache waxed as usual and his eyes barely blinking. There was also a very shocking film (for the 1930’s) and maybe even now- back then it was WOW. It pictured things like a man pulling two pianos between which a dead horse was mounted and a man squeezing and feeling a woman’s boobs- a surreal film which was like a visual painting. Granted now that might be no big deal, but think of it in 1930!!!
We’re both Dali fan’s and we had seen some of the work from St. Petersburg, which found it’s way into the New York exhibit. My favorite, which wasn’t in St. Petersburg (where it belongs) is - “Sentimental Colloquy”- which pictures a crowd of cyclers on old fashion bikes hooked to a piano. There’s something about it, which I always loved. It was the highlight of this weekend’s activities. I also found Dali visited Sigmund Freud and carried one of his paintings to the meeting called “The Metamorphosis of Narcissus”. I’ll have to look into that meeting more throughly. Must have been down right facinating to be a fly on THAT wall!
Today I get to see the Police… not the blue coated, gun toatin types who put people behind bars- but the group. They wind up their world tour this week with there last show at Madison Square Garden on Thursday night. Elvis Costello opens for them tonight and even though it’s expected to be hot and muggy, it’s bound to be an incredible show. Open air stadiums are better in Fall or Spring, but who cares…. it’s music and GOOD music. It’s going to be a busy, but fantastic week I predict… oh no… was that a “countin the eggs”?
Someone kick my ass……