So at this past Sunday's uke circle, somebody whipped out "Stand by Me." This is another one of those early tunes that I think is pure poetry when done right. This older lady in the group took the vocal. She had this deep throaty voice--practically a tenor. When she finished, we just kept playing and Uke Forever did this sweet little solo and it was very quiet and meditative. I think we could have played that song for the whole two hours.
So I decided that I needed to learn the song in a key that fit my range.
So I get a version off chordie and take it to school so I can practice between classes like I always do. I'm having a little trouble with it because I'm working with tabs and I only sort of know how the song goes.
So, as I'm struggling and concentrating on the tabs and words in front of me, this loud, mooing kind of sound starts beside me and kind of startles me. I stop and turn to my right and one of my colleagues is standing there. She says, "I love this song," and continues this cow sound that sounds almost like singing only different. I tell her that I'm having trouble with it and let her sing while I play--thinking that maybe I'm o far off-key that I am causing her to sound bad but, no, she really does sing like a cow and is tone deaf to boot but apparently that doesn't bother her and she keeps singing while students who often stand around with me playing rhythm instruments kind of stop as if they have just witnessed some horrible accident and can't look away.
But I keep playing because I think maybe on some level that it is a noble effort and that, if not beautiful, it is at least sublime.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Swollen Pearl
Why oh why do dogs get themselves in so much trouble?
I suspect that Pearl was chewing on some plant she shouldn't have or trying to catch some critter she shouldn't have--but I'll never know for sure.
Last night, at around 9, when I called the dogs in, Ruby came bounding in like she has been since I declared her Beta Dog (I'm the Alpha Dog, Pearl is the Gamma Dog). Pearl did not bound in behind her.
I clapped my hands--my signal to tell them it's time to come in. Nothing.
I could see a whitish lump in the distance--not moving. I turned on the outdoor light, and the lump looked more like a dog. But the dog, or lump, made no sound.
Oh God, I thought, something bad must have happened.
I walked out to the lump and, yes, it was Pearl, wagging her tail, but clearly not wanting to move. I pet he, but she did not respond with the usual licking. I felt her nose: still cold. I felt around for injuries but could find none.
So I picked her up (which is no longer easy) and took her inside, putting her in the sleeping area she shares with Ruby. She easily walked over to her spot and plopped onto the floor. Nothing wrong with her walking abilities--no limp or anything. She looked at me with that sorrowful look dogs get when they know they have done something stupid but are too stupid to figure out what it was.
When she turned to face me, I noticed that she seemed swollen around the muzzle and eyes. I felt around her mouth, inside and out. I checked her teeth and gums. Everything seemed pink and healthy--except that she wouldn't open her mouth. I tried gently prying her jaws open and got them open a little bit. but could feel that she either didn't want them open or could not open them herself. I could see her tongue clamped between her jaws--it was also pink and healthy looking.
So I called Billy C and asked if anything like this had ever happened to one of his dogs. He said Dil had had something like this once and was over it the next day. Vivage thought that it might be a spider bite, bee sting, or even rattlesnake bite. She wanted me to take Pearl to the emergency vet.
I know enough about all of the above to know that if it were serious venom running through her veins, Pearl would be showing other signs of illness rather quickly. But I called the vet, just in case.
The nice vet lady who answered told me to just watch her and see whether things got better or worse and, if they got worse, to bring her in.
So I decided to give it an hour.
About 45 minutes later, Pearl, had regained use of her jaws and was almost her old licking and slobbering self.
This morning, she bounded out of the house with Ruby and seemed pretty much back to her old self.
I suspect that Pearl was chewing on some plant she shouldn't have or trying to catch some critter she shouldn't have--but I'll never know for sure.
Last night, at around 9, when I called the dogs in, Ruby came bounding in like she has been since I declared her Beta Dog (I'm the Alpha Dog, Pearl is the Gamma Dog). Pearl did not bound in behind her.
I clapped my hands--my signal to tell them it's time to come in. Nothing.
I could see a whitish lump in the distance--not moving. I turned on the outdoor light, and the lump looked more like a dog. But the dog, or lump, made no sound.
Oh God, I thought, something bad must have happened.
I walked out to the lump and, yes, it was Pearl, wagging her tail, but clearly not wanting to move. I pet he, but she did not respond with the usual licking. I felt her nose: still cold. I felt around for injuries but could find none.
So I picked her up (which is no longer easy) and took her inside, putting her in the sleeping area she shares with Ruby. She easily walked over to her spot and plopped onto the floor. Nothing wrong with her walking abilities--no limp or anything. She looked at me with that sorrowful look dogs get when they know they have done something stupid but are too stupid to figure out what it was.
When she turned to face me, I noticed that she seemed swollen around the muzzle and eyes. I felt around her mouth, inside and out. I checked her teeth and gums. Everything seemed pink and healthy--except that she wouldn't open her mouth. I tried gently prying her jaws open and got them open a little bit. but could feel that she either didn't want them open or could not open them herself. I could see her tongue clamped between her jaws--it was also pink and healthy looking.
So I called Billy C and asked if anything like this had ever happened to one of his dogs. He said Dil had had something like this once and was over it the next day. Vivage thought that it might be a spider bite, bee sting, or even rattlesnake bite. She wanted me to take Pearl to the emergency vet.
I know enough about all of the above to know that if it were serious venom running through her veins, Pearl would be showing other signs of illness rather quickly. But I called the vet, just in case.
The nice vet lady who answered told me to just watch her and see whether things got better or worse and, if they got worse, to bring her in.
So I decided to give it an hour.
About 45 minutes later, Pearl, had regained use of her jaws and was almost her old licking and slobbering self.
This morning, she bounded out of the house with Ruby and seemed pretty much back to her old self.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
To Sleep, Perchance to Apneate
So I have trouble sleeping.
I wake up in the night. I start to think. Suddenly, I get caught in this vortex of the day's issues and I juggle them in my head, trying to solve them--but never solve them. Sometimes, I just wear my self down and fall back to sleep. Often, I juggle the problems until morning.
I also snore pretty badly. I have most of the symptoms of sleep apnea. I usually wake up a couple of times a night.
Since lack of sleep can effect a whole lot of things badly, I finally got my doctor to refer me to respiratory therapy.
I went to this workshop yesterday to receive a diagnostic machine that would monitor my sleep at night. The trainer showed us how to wear it and what to wear with it and answered all of our questions.
We were instructed to strap ourselves to our machines and try to record at least five hours of sleep. The problem for me was that we were told to sleep on our backs, which I never do.
I took a pill before bed, lay there for about an hour, then fell asleep. I awoke about an hour and a half later. And I just lay there--first thinking about the device and it's monitors wrapped around my torso, taped to my finger, and stuck up my nose. Then, I started ruminating on the day's problems.
And I tried to make myself comfortable on my back, but I couldn't.
So I just lay there.
I tried my breathing meditation, shifting my neck, rearranging my pillows--nothing worked.
Finally,at about 2:15, I took the gizmos off and soon went to sleep--still fitful, but at least it was sleep.
I managed to keep the gizmo on for about five hours, so I hope that tells the doctors something of what they want to know. But I'm going to call my doctor on Monday and ask for e re-referral and perhaps a stronger sleep medication as a one-time deal. I don't take my current prescription regularly--only when I think I'm going to need it--but I think that maybe I've built up a little resistance to it.
I wake up in the night. I start to think. Suddenly, I get caught in this vortex of the day's issues and I juggle them in my head, trying to solve them--but never solve them. Sometimes, I just wear my self down and fall back to sleep. Often, I juggle the problems until morning.
I also snore pretty badly. I have most of the symptoms of sleep apnea. I usually wake up a couple of times a night.
Since lack of sleep can effect a whole lot of things badly, I finally got my doctor to refer me to respiratory therapy.
I went to this workshop yesterday to receive a diagnostic machine that would monitor my sleep at night. The trainer showed us how to wear it and what to wear with it and answered all of our questions.
We were instructed to strap ourselves to our machines and try to record at least five hours of sleep. The problem for me was that we were told to sleep on our backs, which I never do.
I took a pill before bed, lay there for about an hour, then fell asleep. I awoke about an hour and a half later. And I just lay there--first thinking about the device and it's monitors wrapped around my torso, taped to my finger, and stuck up my nose. Then, I started ruminating on the day's problems.
And I tried to make myself comfortable on my back, but I couldn't.
So I just lay there.
I tried my breathing meditation, shifting my neck, rearranging my pillows--nothing worked.
Finally,at about 2:15, I took the gizmos off and soon went to sleep--still fitful, but at least it was sleep.
I managed to keep the gizmo on for about five hours, so I hope that tells the doctors something of what they want to know. But I'm going to call my doctor on Monday and ask for e re-referral and perhaps a stronger sleep medication as a one-time deal. I don't take my current prescription regularly--only when I think I'm going to need it--but I think that maybe I've built up a little resistance to it.
Monday, August 04, 2008
Anarkalele
Our Riverside Ukulele Liberation Front has been going on for over a year now--I think a year-and-a-half.
Yesterday's meeting had a loony kind of feel to it. I t was probably the largest meeting so far. We started off small and our numbers swole to the gills.
The theme? Summertime. Only I brought a summer tune that wasn't really a summer tune except it was a Beach Boys tune: "Help Me Rhonda". I made copies of this song because I had procrastinated and, at the last minute, it was the only song I could find.
So, we get in tune and we have this new guy and I think we better play an easy tune because this guy is really new so I pull out "This Land Is Your Land." The problem is that most of the people had no copy of--summer attendance being what it is, many of those who showed up were not there at the last couple of meetings. So, we shared as best we could and it seemed like music.
After we played that song into the ground, Anna passed around extra copies of her song from last week--"one More Bottle of Wine"--and we gave that a go. Nobody had ever heard it except Anna. Again, it seemed like music after a couple of runs.
It was so hot (we meet in a the basement) that, at one point, I began to feel a little light-headed. I didn't say anything. I jut kept throwing down beverages and just played most of the time.
At this point, there about 12 people and we were running out of stuff that we had enough copies. I was about to start with "Help Me Rhonda," when Joanne--this nice lady from the Claremont scene--came scootin' in and passed out five or six songs that she had brought.
We worked on those awhile and everybody had fun, so what the hey?
A former student of mine showed up with her ukulele. I hadn't seen her for a couple of years, so it was a nice surprise.
Yesterday's meeting had a loony kind of feel to it. I t was probably the largest meeting so far. We started off small and our numbers swole to the gills.
The theme? Summertime. Only I brought a summer tune that wasn't really a summer tune except it was a Beach Boys tune: "Help Me Rhonda". I made copies of this song because I had procrastinated and, at the last minute, it was the only song I could find.
So, we get in tune and we have this new guy and I think we better play an easy tune because this guy is really new so I pull out "This Land Is Your Land." The problem is that most of the people had no copy of--summer attendance being what it is, many of those who showed up were not there at the last couple of meetings. So, we shared as best we could and it seemed like music.
After we played that song into the ground, Anna passed around extra copies of her song from last week--"one More Bottle of Wine"--and we gave that a go. Nobody had ever heard it except Anna. Again, it seemed like music after a couple of runs.
It was so hot (we meet in a the basement) that, at one point, I began to feel a little light-headed. I didn't say anything. I jut kept throwing down beverages and just played most of the time.
At this point, there about 12 people and we were running out of stuff that we had enough copies. I was about to start with "Help Me Rhonda," when Joanne--this nice lady from the Claremont scene--came scootin' in and passed out five or six songs that she had brought.
We worked on those awhile and everybody had fun, so what the hey?
A former student of mine showed up with her ukulele. I hadn't seen her for a couple of years, so it was a nice surprise.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
My Dogs' Cat Fights
When I got my two new dogs spayed, I thought that, among other things, it would help solve the problem of their fights. It hasn't. These two dogs, from the same litter, get into these fights where they squeal and growl and sound like they are really tearing one another apart. Every time I go out to stop them, I find that Ruby (the brown dog, a little smaller) has pinned Pearl (white and brown and a little larger). They freeze in that position, until Ruby is sure that Pearl is finished, and then separate, lick one another, and come running to me, tails a-wagging. No blood, no injuries.
Ruby did this at home too with her siblings--even Zombie, who is much larger and a male.
At a doggy party we had last year, where five out of six of the litter had been reunited, Zombie would assert himself as Alpha dog--except with Ruby. Ruby would kick his ass every time.Every pair of dogs I have ever had, or seen, has gotten into fights at one time or another. But they have always looked and sounded tame compared to what I'm talking about here. And sometimes, there have been minor injuries. Joey used to get into fights with Gloria and later Roscoe. But I always thought it was because she was the smaller dog in both cases.
My neighbor asked me about it a week ago, and I told him what I have just told you--that the fights always sounded a lot worse than they were. But I decided that I really needed to see what I could do about it.
I looked up a solution on the Internet and found that I was a part of the problem. I am the Alpha dog of the pack. Ruby is 2nd in line--she has obviously been so since birth. Pearl, while larger and better looking, is at the bottom of our pack. I found this out by reading this article.
Being a compassionate human being, I always tried to make it up to Pearl when Ruby was rue to her. For example, when I would give them both chew toys or dog biscuits before bed time, Ruby would always take Pearl's away. I would give Pearl another, and Ruby would take it away. This could go on forever an I would wonder what Ruby thought she was going to do with all of those chew toys and treats and why she couldn't just share. So I just started giving Pearl her treat first. This created some confusion in the order of my pack. Ruby had been certain of her dominant role, but Pearl had gotten signals that maybe she was the 2nd in command here.
Ruby tried to explain this to me several times, but I hadn't listened. Every night, after getting her chew toy, Ruby would play this game with me where she would bring me her chew toy and dare me to try and take it from her. I would grab at it and she would pull away. When I did get a hold of it, she would clamp down harder and we would each tug on it for awhile until she let go. I'd try playing the same game with Pearl, but she wouldn't struggle, she'd just let me have it in much the same way that she would let Ruby take it.
After I began paying more attention to Pearl, making sure she got her fair share of the attention and goodies, I noticed Ruby acting funny. First, she was reluctant to come in the house at night. Pearl would come bounding and Ruby would just sit outside wagging her tail. I thought she might be sick, but she didn't show any symptoms of anything.
She didn't even play the chew toy tug of war anymore.
So the article linked above says that, as Alpha dog, I'm supposed to recognize the pecking order in my pack. I should always treat Ruby with the respect she deserves--give her treats first, pet her first, everything first. Pearl, alas, should always be second.
I have been trying this for the past couple of days and, while there has been one fight, they seem mellower. Ruby has started playing the game with me again. Pearl, I think, is trying to figure out where she went wrong.
The other thing is that I, as Alpha dog, am supposed to make it clear to them that fighting will not be tolerated. The article offers suggestions, but the difficulty is that the fighting occurs when I'm not around and stops when I come outside. So, its hard to punish or scold them when they ceased the behavior.
So, I am working on it.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Open Mike Family Affair
I haven't stopped going to open mics at the Folk Center. I've just stopped reviewing them. But last night was a real event. The entire Canary Family (those that perform and are in town, anyway) performed.
The night was a pretty good one. Many talented performers. Uke Forever performed an evangelistical atheist tune he had written. Seriously, he could have had an altar call at the end to ask people who felt so moved to come up and publicly renounce the Lord. Very good song.
Bill ( a regular) followed this with a couple of Gospel tunes, both of which he played very fast as if to make sure he gave Jesus better than equal time. Bill is an odd fellow. He always starts with a joke. You know that he has opened with a joke because he always makes this face that looks like the kind of face a character might make early on in a cheap horror movie when he or she first discovers the horror that will propel the plot of said movie forward.
Soon UF's buddy Terrance got up and sang a song he wrote that had a more liberal spiritual point of view. He either followed or was followed by another guy named Terrance--an older guy with a few missing teeth and bald head with a curtain of long white hair around the sides. This Terrance is a multi-instrumentalist who brought a dobro on this night. He did a couple of very sang an anti-war folk song, "Mrs. McGrath," which you can find on Springsteen's Seeger Sessions CD and a medley of Jesse James tunes.
This one lady got up and sang a rousing gospel tune a capella and it just killed.
A great night for the first amendment.
As for the Canary line-up, I was first with my original tune "A Man without Arms"-- a song I am working on from the Peter Case workshop. I don't think it got the laughs that I had hoped, but did ok.
Billy C followed with his song about an old fictitious dog, based on an actual dog, but changed up enough so that it really is a fictitious dog. He got a great response. Princess Canary actually came with us and sang "I Will" by the Beatles as Dad Billy C accompanied her on uke and Do played bongos. I have played on this song also, but we realized too late that our ukes were tuned differently and there was no time to fix that. Just as well. While watching Princess Canary sing, I had one of those sentimental realizations that none of my nieces or nephews are children anymore. Princess is the youngest and will be a senior next year. Time passes.
Blowhard C got up and sang a tune. Most of us accompanied him. Do on conga, Billy C on huevos, me on stomping and clapping. It was a song that he had found on Myspace. We weren't sure when the song was over, so Billy C and I continued playing our instruments until Blowhard turned around and gave us "the look."
Do also played percussion for a couple of other folk. For someone who had not planned on playing at all, she was pretty busy.
The night was a pretty good one. Many talented performers. Uke Forever performed an evangelistical atheist tune he had written. Seriously, he could have had an altar call at the end to ask people who felt so moved to come up and publicly renounce the Lord. Very good song.
Bill ( a regular) followed this with a couple of Gospel tunes, both of which he played very fast as if to make sure he gave Jesus better than equal time. Bill is an odd fellow. He always starts with a joke. You know that he has opened with a joke because he always makes this face that looks like the kind of face a character might make early on in a cheap horror movie when he or she first discovers the horror that will propel the plot of said movie forward.
Soon UF's buddy Terrance got up and sang a song he wrote that had a more liberal spiritual point of view. He either followed or was followed by another guy named Terrance--an older guy with a few missing teeth and bald head with a curtain of long white hair around the sides. This Terrance is a multi-instrumentalist who brought a dobro on this night. He did a couple of very sang an anti-war folk song, "Mrs. McGrath," which you can find on Springsteen's Seeger Sessions CD and a medley of Jesse James tunes.
This one lady got up and sang a rousing gospel tune a capella and it just killed.
A great night for the first amendment.
As for the Canary line-up, I was first with my original tune "A Man without Arms"-- a song I am working on from the Peter Case workshop. I don't think it got the laughs that I had hoped, but did ok.
Billy C followed with his song about an old fictitious dog, based on an actual dog, but changed up enough so that it really is a fictitious dog. He got a great response. Princess Canary actually came with us and sang "I Will" by the Beatles as Dad Billy C accompanied her on uke and Do played bongos. I have played on this song also, but we realized too late that our ukes were tuned differently and there was no time to fix that. Just as well. While watching Princess Canary sing, I had one of those sentimental realizations that none of my nieces or nephews are children anymore. Princess is the youngest and will be a senior next year. Time passes.
Blowhard C got up and sang a tune. Most of us accompanied him. Do on conga, Billy C on huevos, me on stomping and clapping. It was a song that he had found on Myspace. We weren't sure when the song was over, so Billy C and I continued playing our instruments until Blowhard turned around and gave us "the look."
Do also played percussion for a couple of other folk. For someone who had not planned on playing at all, she was pretty busy.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Game Show
My theory regarding audience participation-type game shows is that, while the producers want the audience to be rowdy and have a good time, people who show up to be members of said audience and/or participants are basically meat to be used to fill up the seats in the studio--happy, clapping meat.
Yesterday, the Sis and her family (Reverend Canary, Diva Canary, Sluggo--Diva's boyfriend--all visiting from PA) and myself went to a taping of The Price Is Right. We had e-tickets, which we found out were not as good as studio tickets--neither of which guarantees that you will get in. They overbook to ensure a full audience as well as a broad selection of possible contestants.
So, we all get there at 8 AM for the 4 O'clock taping. I won't go into detail, but three out of five of us were in nuclear pissy mode--largely because they didn't share the enthusiasm for going to a game show that my sister and I had.
About 900 people showed up for the 1 O'clock taping (there were 300 seats available--there were also around 900 people for the 4PM show). These folk were sorted by the pages, whose basic goal was to get the seats filled--not to be fair or compassionate. Each ticket holder would be assigned a priority number, which took a couple of hours--and these seemed to be assigned not in the order each person arrived, but depending on where each person was told to sit. For example, I ended up with a higher priority number than Pammy C, even though she had been seated in the row ahead of me because my page was quicker than her page.
If you asked a page a question--any question--you got "I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do about it." Some would go to the trouble of smiling, but most were brusk and dismissive.
It was funny to watch ticket-holders who would get into arguments with pages because they felt they had been treated unfairly or because they had a better idea of how to run things. Some pages were friendlier than others, but every time, the complainer would end up being told that they could always leave if they didn't like it. On more than one occasion, the page offered to call security to take a complainer away. So we figured out right away that, whether or not we got on the show would be helped by going to a page and complaining.
There was one lady who would not leave no matter how many times or how many ways she was told that she would not get a priority number because she did not have a ticket. She stayed up until we began filing into the studio and somehow managed to get into the taping.
The five of us got separated early in the process. Dave and I ended up in one row, while Pammmmmmmy C, Diva, and Sluggo ended up in another. Once you were seated, you sat--for a long time, until someone gave you a priority number. People got antsy and cranky and openly defiant while sitting--but nothing could be done about it. By around 10 AM, we were given priority numbers and told to come back at 1:30 to begin casting for the 4 PM show.
The five us strolled over to the Farmer's Market and moped around for awhile. Diva and Sluggo and I munched on savory crepes from the crepe booth--theirs were sweet, mine savory. Very tasty. I also got a fruit salad at a fruit stand which, although skimpy on the mango and papaya, was pretty good. They don't have fruit in PA, so Diva and Sluggo were amazed and delighted.
We than strolled in the midday heat to the new shopping mall across from the studio. Mind you, it was Tuesday, not a big shopping day. All around the mall were people we had seen at the studio, who were given priority numbers and told to come back. Huge groups of them, many wearing identical outfits so as to identify themselves as a group on camera, wandered around shopping, dining, strategize....
Rev C and theorized that, with the economy being bad it being a Tuesday, one reason the show was so overbooked was because even the people who left the studio angry and frustrated would probably stop at the mall and look around and probably even buy stuff. It was good for the local economy for them to overbook.
Anyway, we got back to the studio at 1:30 and they had already started the selection process. The Rev C realized that Pammmmmmmy C wanted to be on the show more than he did, so he traded his spot to her. Pammmmmmmmy C and I got on and the Rev, Diva, and Sluggo left us in our glory to go play in LA.
Pammmmmmmy C and probably sat there for another couple of hours as the standby's got moved in groups from bench to bench-each bench putting them closer to the studio.
Pages walked around taking pictures of everybody, checking our ID's and had us all fill out cards with our personal info. This was interspersed with long bouts of waiting, which, again, got people cranky.
My sister diagnosed a guy in line as having Assburger's, a condition in the autism family. He was alone, and you could see that the process was setting him off. He would lecture people about the television business and pace around into the comfort zones of others. From time to time, he did did this wiggly thing with his fingers that looked like he was casting a spell on his own head. Pammmmmmy C works with autistic kids and knows a lot about the habits and behaviors.
The final step of selection was the interview. We had heard all day about the interview. The interview would give the producers ideas about who they wanted as contestants. We had wondered how they could interview 300 people without keeping us there all night.
This was the interview. They lined us up in tens and stood us in front of a peppy guy who would go down the line and ask each person what they did for a living and then make a joke to see how that person reacted. Behind the peppy guy, this woman sat and made notes on a pad. From her notes, the contestants were selected. Each interview lasted 10 seconds. Maybe 20.
Yesterday, the Sis and her family (Reverend Canary, Diva Canary, Sluggo--Diva's boyfriend--all visiting from PA) and myself went to a taping of The Price Is Right. We had e-tickets, which we found out were not as good as studio tickets--neither of which guarantees that you will get in. They overbook to ensure a full audience as well as a broad selection of possible contestants.
So, we all get there at 8 AM for the 4 O'clock taping. I won't go into detail, but three out of five of us were in nuclear pissy mode--largely because they didn't share the enthusiasm for going to a game show that my sister and I had.
About 900 people showed up for the 1 O'clock taping (there were 300 seats available--there were also around 900 people for the 4PM show). These folk were sorted by the pages, whose basic goal was to get the seats filled--not to be fair or compassionate. Each ticket holder would be assigned a priority number, which took a couple of hours--and these seemed to be assigned not in the order each person arrived, but depending on where each person was told to sit. For example, I ended up with a higher priority number than Pammy C, even though she had been seated in the row ahead of me because my page was quicker than her page.
If you asked a page a question--any question--you got "I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do about it." Some would go to the trouble of smiling, but most were brusk and dismissive.
It was funny to watch ticket-holders who would get into arguments with pages because they felt they had been treated unfairly or because they had a better idea of how to run things. Some pages were friendlier than others, but every time, the complainer would end up being told that they could always leave if they didn't like it. On more than one occasion, the page offered to call security to take a complainer away. So we figured out right away that, whether or not we got on the show would be helped by going to a page and complaining.
There was one lady who would not leave no matter how many times or how many ways she was told that she would not get a priority number because she did not have a ticket. She stayed up until we began filing into the studio and somehow managed to get into the taping.
The five of us got separated early in the process. Dave and I ended up in one row, while Pammmmmmmy C, Diva, and Sluggo ended up in another. Once you were seated, you sat--for a long time, until someone gave you a priority number. People got antsy and cranky and openly defiant while sitting--but nothing could be done about it. By around 10 AM, we were given priority numbers and told to come back at 1:30 to begin casting for the 4 PM show.
The five us strolled over to the Farmer's Market and moped around for awhile. Diva and Sluggo and I munched on savory crepes from the crepe booth--theirs were sweet, mine savory. Very tasty. I also got a fruit salad at a fruit stand which, although skimpy on the mango and papaya, was pretty good. They don't have fruit in PA, so Diva and Sluggo were amazed and delighted.
We than strolled in the midday heat to the new shopping mall across from the studio. Mind you, it was Tuesday, not a big shopping day. All around the mall were people we had seen at the studio, who were given priority numbers and told to come back. Huge groups of them, many wearing identical outfits so as to identify themselves as a group on camera, wandered around shopping, dining, strategize....
Rev C and theorized that, with the economy being bad it being a Tuesday, one reason the show was so overbooked was because even the people who left the studio angry and frustrated would probably stop at the mall and look around and probably even buy stuff. It was good for the local economy for them to overbook.
Anyway, we got back to the studio at 1:30 and they had already started the selection process. The Rev C realized that Pammmmmmmy C wanted to be on the show more than he did, so he traded his spot to her. Pammmmmmmmy C and I got on and the Rev, Diva, and Sluggo left us in our glory to go play in LA.
Pammmmmmmy C and probably sat there for another couple of hours as the standby's got moved in groups from bench to bench-each bench putting them closer to the studio.
Pages walked around taking pictures of everybody, checking our ID's and had us all fill out cards with our personal info. This was interspersed with long bouts of waiting, which, again, got people cranky.
My sister diagnosed a guy in line as having Assburger's, a condition in the autism family. He was alone, and you could see that the process was setting him off. He would lecture people about the television business and pace around into the comfort zones of others. From time to time, he did did this wiggly thing with his fingers that looked like he was casting a spell on his own head. Pammmmmmy C works with autistic kids and knows a lot about the habits and behaviors.
The final step of selection was the interview. We had heard all day about the interview. The interview would give the producers ideas about who they wanted as contestants. We had wondered how they could interview 300 people without keeping us there all night.
This was the interview. They lined us up in tens and stood us in front of a peppy guy who would go down the line and ask each person what they did for a living and then make a joke to see how that person reacted. Behind the peppy guy, this woman sat and made notes on a pad. From her notes, the contestants were selected. Each interview lasted 10 seconds. Maybe 20.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Bird Watching
One thing that I have learned from the Peter Case Song Writing workshop is that you have to go out and not write sometimes. You've got to do something to take your mind off of what ever you are working on--or even take your mind off of what ever you aren't working on even. Ray Bradbury calls this feeding your sub-conscience. You must allow good things into your head in order for good stuff to come out. Hemingway used to spend hours in art museums looking at paintings and sculptures--really studying them.
So I have been trying to do something like this about once a week--just going out and looking at stuff. One place I have gone to a couple of times is this local bird farm where they have lots of parrots, finches, parakeets and canaries. I used to be a bird-owner and have been surprised as to how many varieties are available now. And I guess there have been great strides made in breeding some difficult-to-breed birds. One reason I never got a new bird after my last one died was because many were captured in the wild and shipped to this country in horrific conditions which left many of them sick or dead. Not good.
So I visited this week and walked around for about an hour and looked at the birds.
Many of the larger birds are in this area where people can look at them up close. Some are in cages, some are out on perches. And you can walk right up and pet them or talk to them and sometimes they will crawl right up your arm. I'm talkin' big birds like cockatoos, macaws, african greys--birds with serious plumage and serious beaks. If a bird this size bites you, they can break your finger, so it's important to read the sign next to each bird before reaching out to touch them, but many of them are very friendly.
Out in the aviaries, there was a cockatiel section. I hadn't realized the variety of cockatiel mutations. Most parrot type birds live in flocks and have the usual alpha male thing going on. When they want to show their dominance and/or warn off any intruders, they raise their crest and spread there wings as far as they can and screech at you. A couple of them were doing this to me--sitting right on the front perch and representing. One grey whiteface in particular was letting me know that I'd better not try anything..jpg)
In another cage, there was this lone blue and gold macaw in with a flock of ring neck parakeets. Parrots are social birds and travel in flocks in the wild, so this macaw wanted to be in a flock and, since this was the only flock available, he seemed to want to join the ringnecks.
He sat on a perch towards the back of the aviary, several ringnecks on either side of him, keeping their distance, since he was about four times their size. Every once in awhile, the macaw would sidle over to one end of the perch to visit the ringnecks and the ring necks would scrunch up against the wall. Then, the macaw 
would sidle over to the parakeets one the other end and they too would scrunch up against the wall, clearly wanting nothing to do with this monster. Then, dejected, the macaw would return to the center of the perch, squawk sadly, and stand there alone--the ringnecks on either side remaining huddled together on the extreme ends of the perch.
I had other birdventures as well. All-in-all, a relaxing afternoon.
So I have been trying to do something like this about once a week--just going out and looking at stuff. One place I have gone to a couple of times is this local bird farm where they have lots of parrots, finches, parakeets and canaries. I used to be a bird-owner and have been surprised as to how many varieties are available now. And I guess there have been great strides made in breeding some difficult-to-breed birds. One reason I never got a new bird after my last one died was because many were captured in the wild and shipped to this country in horrific conditions which left many of them sick or dead. Not good.
So I visited this week and walked around for about an hour and looked at the birds.
Many of the larger birds are in this area where people can look at them up close. Some are in cages, some are out on perches. And you can walk right up and pet them or talk to them and sometimes they will crawl right up your arm. I'm talkin' big birds like cockatoos, macaws, african greys--birds with serious plumage and serious beaks. If a bird this size bites you, they can break your finger, so it's important to read the sign next to each bird before reaching out to touch them, but many of them are very friendly.
Out in the aviaries, there was a cockatiel section. I hadn't realized the variety of cockatiel mutations. Most parrot type birds live in flocks and have the usual alpha male thing going on. When they want to show their dominance and/or warn off any intruders, they raise their crest and spread there wings as far as they can and screech at you. A couple of them were doing this to me--sitting right on the front perch and representing. One grey whiteface in particular was letting me know that I'd better not try anything..jpg)
In another cage, there was this lone blue and gold macaw in with a flock of ring neck parakeets. Parrots are social birds and travel in flocks in the wild, so this macaw wanted to be in a flock and, since this was the only flock available, he seemed to want to join the ringnecks.
He sat on a perch towards the back of the aviary, several ringnecks on either side of him, keeping their distance, since he was about four times their size. Every once in awhile, the macaw would sidle over to one end of the perch to visit the ringnecks and the ring necks would scrunch up against the wall. Then, the macaw 
would sidle over to the parakeets one the other end and they too would scrunch up against the wall, clearly wanting nothing to do with this monster. Then, dejected, the macaw would return to the center of the perch, squawk sadly, and stand there alone--the ringnecks on either side remaining huddled together on the extreme ends of the perch.I had other birdventures as well. All-in-all, a relaxing afternoon.
The Dark Knight
When I mentioned the old "Dark Night Returns" Graphic Novel, Nephew Canary was impressed because--well--I am an old guy with no past beyond his 19 years. Before then, I didn't exist.
I explained that, as a teacher, I pride myself on keeping up a passing awareness of pop culture and that, back in the late 80's, I had a gaggle of students who loved that stuff and gave me copies of the graphic novels they had read. In fact, in the '90 yearbook of one particular yearbook, my faculty pic shows me at my desk reading "The Dark Knight Returns," proving to the world that I was a hip young English teacher.
So Nephew Canary allowed me to go see "The Dark Night" with he and his friends. Everything good that has been said about it is true. There were several predictable twists that I was glad to see happen, as sappy as they were. There were also several surprise twists--one of which I was unhappy to see happen. That Heath Ledger re-defined the Joker. Every other portrayal that I know of basically built off the same concept. This one is DIFFERENT. If this character ever returns, it will never be the same.
I'd say more, but I don't want to spoil it for anyone. I'm funny that way.
I explained that, as a teacher, I pride myself on keeping up a passing awareness of pop culture and that, back in the late 80's, I had a gaggle of students who loved that stuff and gave me copies of the graphic novels they had read. In fact, in the '90 yearbook of one particular yearbook, my faculty pic shows me at my desk reading "The Dark Knight Returns," proving to the world that I was a hip young English teacher.
So Nephew Canary allowed me to go see "The Dark Night" with he and his friends. Everything good that has been said about it is true. There were several predictable twists that I was glad to see happen, as sappy as they were. There were also several surprise twists--one of which I was unhappy to see happen. That Heath Ledger re-defined the Joker. Every other portrayal that I know of basically built off the same concept. This one is DIFFERENT. If this character ever returns, it will never be the same.
I'd say more, but I don't want to spoil it for anyone. I'm funny that way.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Song Writing Workshop with Peter Case II
So I took that first songwriting workshop with Peter Case--he formerly of the Plimsouls. The guy knows his stuff. I liked the workshop, but many participants were reluctant to share any songs they had written. I myself am used to writing workshops in prose and poetry, but they are different animules. When the leader asks if anyone wants to read what they have written, there usually is a sort of breathing period before anyone volunteers. In this workshop, you had to be ready to throw down. Billy Canary says that it's a punk thing--or maybe just a musician thing.
So I shared my song at the final meeting. These are a reasonable facsimile of the lyrics:
So take your medication.
Take it every day.
Take your medication,
And your troubles will melt away
Both Billy C and Do took the workshop as well. Billy C wrote a song about the dinosaur's contribution to modern civilization and Do wrote a song called "40-Year-Old Woman with a Teenagers Mind."
Good workshop.
Billy C and I are enrolled in the follow-up workshop. This one meets at night and Case seems to be more in his element, biorhythm-wise. I brought 2/3rd's of a song and played it. Here are the lyrics:
Note that it has a title and chords. It's in 3/4 and I envision it as a country western song.
The assignment this week is to write a teen hit and a B-side. My hit project is called "In the Bleachers at Midnight." I post it when it's ready.
So I shared my song at the final meeting. These are a reasonable facsimile of the lyrics:
I went to see my doctor
He said boy I know what makes you ill
And like with almost everything
There remedy is in a pill
There’s a pill that makes you jittery
There’s a pill that holds you still
There’s a pill that helps you sleep at night
And there’s a pill for that pill.
So take your medication.
Take it every day.
Take your medication,
And your troubles will melt away
There’s a pill that makes you happy
There’s a pill that makes you sad
There’s a pill that I can give you
For the best sex you ever had
I’ve got a pill that makes you tired
So you can take a little nap
There’s a pill to take once after meals
To help you take a crap
So take your medication.
Take it every day.
Take your medication,
And your troubles will melt away.
Both Billy C and Do took the workshop as well. Billy C wrote a song about the dinosaur's contribution to modern civilization and Do wrote a song called "40-Year-Old Woman with a Teenagers Mind."
Good workshop.
Billy C and I are enrolled in the follow-up workshop. This one meets at night and Case seems to be more in his element, biorhythm-wise. I brought 2/3rd's of a song and played it. Here are the lyrics:
A Man without Arms
Verse 1
G Dm
Sometimes I feel like a man without arms
Am G
Pettin’ a dog without any head
G Dm
I can’t feel the fur. He can’t feel my fingers.
Am G
So we both stand there reaching instead.
G Am C G
So take me as I am, I’ve nothing to offer to you.
G
Just come when I whistle
Dm
Or when you get this epistle
Am G
I’ll likely be waiting for you.
Verse2
G Dm
Sometimes I feel like a conductor
Am G
For a band in a land without song
G Dm
I stand in the gazebo, wave my arms and the players just sit there
Am G
In silence in front of the throng.
G Am C G
So take me as I am, I’ve nothing to offer to you.
G
Just listen right there
Dm
As I conduct the air
Am G
I dedicate this silence to you.
Note that it has a title and chords. It's in 3/4 and I envision it as a country western song.
The assignment this week is to write a teen hit and a B-side. My hit project is called "In the Bleachers at Midnight." I post it when it's ready.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
I Did Not Know George Carlin...
... but I saw him once. It was back in 1976 or 77--just after "The Seven Words." He had already started his journey into edgy humor and I believe this was before his hosting of the first episode of Saturday Night Live.
This was back when I was working at the Howard Johnson's Motorlodge on University Avenue. I think he had a concert at UC Rio de Nada up the street and wonder if it may have even been in the famous but now defunct barn.
He was in the restaurant having dinner before the show. I recall he had two hot dogs. I didn't talk to him because, at the time, it was not unusual for celebrities to stop at this Hojos due to the centrality of the location. Rio de Nada, while dumpish, does have several institutions of higher learning and a couple of concert venues--and back then, it had the Rio de Nada Raceway, which was a popular race track, boasting several giant annual races, including the Rio de Nada 500, complete with grand parade and all. As a rule, when celebs stayed at Hojos, I left them alone.
So, George was there enjoying his hot dogs in peace. Given his heart problems, I probably should have warned him.
On the other hand, he lived to be 71 and continued performing about as close to the end as possible.
Other people I saw and/or met while working at Hojo's:
Persis Cambata (the bald-headed woman in Star Trek: the Motion Picture)
George Will
John Shuck
Kyle Petty (lousy tipper)
Ben Kingsley and Patrick Stewart (on the same weekend)
John McCuen
Charlie Deerkopf (of Policewoman, an actor whose face looked like it had been flattened by a mallet)
Gorden Jump
William Christopher (Father Mulcahey on MASH--my sister baby sat for him one night. He has an autistic son. My sister now works with autistic children, as does her two daughters. How about that?
The guy who originally played Lionel Jefferson on All in the Family and The Jeffersons
Esther Rolle (Good Times)
Joe Don Baker
Bo Svenson
The St. Louis Cardinals
There was a host of others. The only time I went berserk was when Kingsley and Stewart stayed there. They had not yet become famous and were touring the UC campuses for the Royal Shakespeare Company. Two actresses were with them, and I had a crush on one of them. I don't remember who she was. I was a college student, majoring in English at the time and just thought it was cool that the Royal Shakespeare Company was there. They used to stand out by the pool and do vocal warm-ups together.
This was back when I was working at the Howard Johnson's Motorlodge on University Avenue. I think he had a concert at UC Rio de Nada up the street and wonder if it may have even been in the famous but now defunct barn.
He was in the restaurant having dinner before the show. I recall he had two hot dogs. I didn't talk to him because, at the time, it was not unusual for celebrities to stop at this Hojos due to the centrality of the location. Rio de Nada, while dumpish, does have several institutions of higher learning and a couple of concert venues--and back then, it had the Rio de Nada Raceway, which was a popular race track, boasting several giant annual races, including the Rio de Nada 500, complete with grand parade and all. As a rule, when celebs stayed at Hojos, I left them alone.
So, George was there enjoying his hot dogs in peace. Given his heart problems, I probably should have warned him.
On the other hand, he lived to be 71 and continued performing about as close to the end as possible.
Other people I saw and/or met while working at Hojo's:
Persis Cambata (the bald-headed woman in Star Trek: the Motion Picture)
George Will
John Shuck
Kyle Petty (lousy tipper)
Ben Kingsley and Patrick Stewart (on the same weekend)
John McCuen
Charlie Deerkopf (of Policewoman, an actor whose face looked like it had been flattened by a mallet)
Gorden Jump
William Christopher (Father Mulcahey on MASH--my sister baby sat for him one night. He has an autistic son. My sister now works with autistic children, as does her two daughters. How about that?
The guy who originally played Lionel Jefferson on All in the Family and The Jeffersons
Esther Rolle (Good Times)
Joe Don Baker
Bo Svenson
The St. Louis Cardinals
There was a host of others. The only time I went berserk was when Kingsley and Stewart stayed there. They had not yet become famous and were touring the UC campuses for the Royal Shakespeare Company. Two actresses were with them, and I had a crush on one of them. I don't remember who she was. I was a college student, majoring in English at the time and just thought it was cool that the Royal Shakespeare Company was there. They used to stand out by the pool and do vocal warm-ups together.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Adventures in Public Transportation
Just got back from Downingtown, Pennsylvania. I flew back to see my niece and nephew graduate from high school. The niece, whom we will refer to as "Diva," will be attending Temple University, Bill Cosby's Alma Mater. The nephew, whom I will call "Mad Dog," is still undecided about his academic plans, but recently started a lucrative job as a manager at a big theater chain.
So Diva Canary needed to go to Temple to take several placement tests. The Most Right Reverend Canary (my BiL) and I went with her for moral support and for to wander the city, while she tested. The family has three cars and five family members. So, to ease the strain and save money (gas prices, ya know?), we took the train, which has a stop not a quarter of a mile from my sister's house.
MRRC and I took in the Philadelphia Art Museum while Diva took her tests. Quite a day. The museum is huge and has lots of art. The best part was the section with Asian art on display. Some great statuary and recreated temples. The Hindu section was my favorite, because I had read a lot about the deities depicted in much of the statuary. A lot of avatars of Vishnu represented.
My problem with art is that I don't know enough about it. If I take in too much, I go into overload mode.
What I enjoyed most was the train trip. I like the idea of public transportation. Someone else drives, while you get to read the paper, have a cuppa coffee, sleep, or whatever. It would be nice to live in an area where they had decent public transportation.
Later that week, I took a train excursion on my own, to Buck's county to check out a folk music store there. The trip took me through some really beautiful scenery. I actually saw a deer poking its head out from behind the brush at one point.
When I got to my stop, I found myself on a road filled with trees and singing birds. I could swear Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony was being piped in. I had a lovely walk and even walked past the music store. Twice. It didn't advertise itself very well. It looked like just another house.
While on the train, I thought about ways I might live a greener life, and save money on gas too. I decided that I ought to try our city's rapid transit system--no trains just buses.
Today I had to get to my brother's house and pick up my mother's car. I decided that having someone come to get me would be a waste of gas--and gas is about $4.75 a gallon around here. So I decided to take the bus, which I discovered would drop me less than a block from Billy C's house. The ride took about 25 minutes in an air conditioned, natural gas burning vehicle--all for $1.25. I expected I'd get lost, but the route was pretty simple. This probably won't be practical for all of my transportation needs, as I live outside of Rio de Nada, but I am going to try to do this once a week and see what happens.
So Diva Canary needed to go to Temple to take several placement tests. The Most Right Reverend Canary (my BiL) and I went with her for moral support and for to wander the city, while she tested. The family has three cars and five family members. So, to ease the strain and save money (gas prices, ya know?), we took the train, which has a stop not a quarter of a mile from my sister's house.
MRRC and I took in the Philadelphia Art Museum while Diva took her tests. Quite a day. The museum is huge and has lots of art. The best part was the section with Asian art on display. Some great statuary and recreated temples. The Hindu section was my favorite, because I had read a lot about the deities depicted in much of the statuary. A lot of avatars of Vishnu represented.
My problem with art is that I don't know enough about it. If I take in too much, I go into overload mode.
What I enjoyed most was the train trip. I like the idea of public transportation. Someone else drives, while you get to read the paper, have a cuppa coffee, sleep, or whatever. It would be nice to live in an area where they had decent public transportation.
Later that week, I took a train excursion on my own, to Buck's county to check out a folk music store there. The trip took me through some really beautiful scenery. I actually saw a deer poking its head out from behind the brush at one point.
When I got to my stop, I found myself on a road filled with trees and singing birds. I could swear Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony was being piped in. I had a lovely walk and even walked past the music store. Twice. It didn't advertise itself very well. It looked like just another house.
While on the train, I thought about ways I might live a greener life, and save money on gas too. I decided that I ought to try our city's rapid transit system--no trains just buses.
Today I had to get to my brother's house and pick up my mother's car. I decided that having someone come to get me would be a waste of gas--and gas is about $4.75 a gallon around here. So I decided to take the bus, which I discovered would drop me less than a block from Billy C's house. The ride took about 25 minutes in an air conditioned, natural gas burning vehicle--all for $1.25. I expected I'd get lost, but the route was pretty simple. This probably won't be practical for all of my transportation needs, as I live outside of Rio de Nada, but I am going to try to do this once a week and see what happens.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
The Man in the Hat
I forgot to mention that I saw the Indiana Jones movie. What can I say? I laughed out loud and had a great time. Like Roger Ebert said (and I paraphrase) those of you who like that sort of thing will love it and those who don't--there's no talking to you.
This was old-school Spielberg, with several self-indulgent references to other films--like Raiders of the Lost Ark and Close Encounters. And there was some stock scream that apparently Spielberg, Lucas, and every other film maker try to work into every film they make. Or maybe it's the sound editors who do that.
There were a couple of sight gags that I know were sight gags, but I didn't quite follow them. Harrison looks too old for this sort of thing at first, but then works that into the story very well. The chemistry between him and Karen Allen made me wonder why Spielberg and Lucas ever dropped her from the series. Her character was much more interesting than the others Indiana Jones women.
The character plot twist at the end was not the plot twist I had expected. I expected the special effects plot twist. When you think about it, all of the Indiana Jones films have the same ending: basically that for all of our human curiosity, there is such a thing as too much knowledge and we should accept that.
But this series is a cartoon in essence and should be taken as such. As I left the theater, I realized that I hadn't had a single thought for the whole two hours and that's as it should be.
This was old-school Spielberg, with several self-indulgent references to other films--like Raiders of the Lost Ark and Close Encounters. And there was some stock scream that apparently Spielberg, Lucas, and every other film maker try to work into every film they make. Or maybe it's the sound editors who do that.
There were a couple of sight gags that I know were sight gags, but I didn't quite follow them. Harrison looks too old for this sort of thing at first, but then works that into the story very well. The chemistry between him and Karen Allen made me wonder why Spielberg and Lucas ever dropped her from the series. Her character was much more interesting than the others Indiana Jones women.
The character plot twist at the end was not the plot twist I had expected. I expected the special effects plot twist. When you think about it, all of the Indiana Jones films have the same ending: basically that for all of our human curiosity, there is such a thing as too much knowledge and we should accept that.
But this series is a cartoon in essence and should be taken as such. As I left the theater, I realized that I hadn't had a single thought for the whole two hours and that's as it should be.
Dangerous Driving
Yesterday, Billy C, Do, and I were to accompany Princess Canary at a concert put on by her High School's vocal music program. We had a sound check at 11 AM. On my way there, I had to take a busy street congested by due to ongoing construction. I was stopped behind a line of cars for a red light, when this Ford Expedition rear-ended me. I was pissed, but mostly calm when I took down the information from this stupid lady who hit me, but I missed the sound check. My point is, what a crappy way to begin the day. I wanted to kill the woman.
So, performance time. Princess Canary sang beautifully. It is on film somewhere. She sang the Beatles' "I Will," which is the first difficult song I ever attempted. Never really learned it until now because it didn't really fit my voice. It's a cool song with chord changes about every two beats.
Princess has a sweet voice. She's not yet comfortable with it, but once she develops it, will be a fine singer.
Many other students sang solos, duets, and other conglomerations. One thing I felt (and this isn't a commentary on the quality of performances) was that song writing can't be as hard as I seem to think. So many of the songs sung were utter crap. And hits for someone.
Even some of the choral music wasn't that good. Zoe's group, the chambers singers, did some really great stuff, but the other groups did mostly pop tunes. And there was a whole lot of churchy music. Not GOOD churchy music. But current pop, sappy churchy music. Jesus, "Take the Wheel," about a woman in turmoil driving back home and deciding to let Jesus take over. She decides to let go of the steering wheel and I'm thinking, given my morning accident, that's a pretty dangerous thing to do.
This school is located in the middle of a highly conservative Christian community, so I guess many people feel it's ok to have that much religion at a public school. But I just wonder whether a student who wants to do a song about another religious or political view would be allowed to do so.
So, performance time. Princess Canary sang beautifully. It is on film somewhere. She sang the Beatles' "I Will," which is the first difficult song I ever attempted. Never really learned it until now because it didn't really fit my voice. It's a cool song with chord changes about every two beats.
Princess has a sweet voice. She's not yet comfortable with it, but once she develops it, will be a fine singer.
Many other students sang solos, duets, and other conglomerations. One thing I felt (and this isn't a commentary on the quality of performances) was that song writing can't be as hard as I seem to think. So many of the songs sung were utter crap. And hits for someone.
Even some of the choral music wasn't that good. Zoe's group, the chambers singers, did some really great stuff, but the other groups did mostly pop tunes. And there was a whole lot of churchy music. Not GOOD churchy music. But current pop, sappy churchy music. Jesus, "Take the Wheel," about a woman in turmoil driving back home and deciding to let Jesus take over. She decides to let go of the steering wheel and I'm thinking, given my morning accident, that's a pretty dangerous thing to do.
This school is located in the middle of a highly conservative Christian community, so I guess many people feel it's ok to have that much religion at a public school. But I just wonder whether a student who wants to do a song about another religious or political view would be allowed to do so.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Is Anybody Home?
Okay, I haven't written anything for awhile. I will probably blog about some of the happenings in the hear future.
Today, I started the first day of a songwriting workshop run by Peter Case, he of the Plimsouls. My only complaint would be that we could have written more. He gave us several writing assignments for the week, but we only tried one of them during the class. But he gave us a lot of ideas.
After class, Billy C, Do, and I ate at this Indian restaurant up the street. As we waited for our food, Billy C and I worked on "The Nipple Song," just throwing out ideas as they came to us. I wrote most of them down on my place mat. It's kind of a sequel to Do's "Bosom Song," which is a big hit in these parts.
I have written poetry. I have not written songs. When I try my hand at song lyrics, they become perhaps too dense with imagery. I think one has to hold back on that sort of thing in songwriting.
I have a couple of ideas. So, we'll see.
Today, I started the first day of a songwriting workshop run by Peter Case, he of the Plimsouls. My only complaint would be that we could have written more. He gave us several writing assignments for the week, but we only tried one of them during the class. But he gave us a lot of ideas.
After class, Billy C, Do, and I ate at this Indian restaurant up the street. As we waited for our food, Billy C and I worked on "The Nipple Song," just throwing out ideas as they came to us. I wrote most of them down on my place mat. It's kind of a sequel to Do's "Bosom Song," which is a big hit in these parts.
I have written poetry. I have not written songs. When I try my hand at song lyrics, they become perhaps too dense with imagery. I think one has to hold back on that sort of thing in songwriting.
I have a couple of ideas. So, we'll see.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
More Fun with O'Possums
I tried to walk my two dogs, Ruby and Pearl, the other night. They aren't getting it though.
I have had other dogs (Gloria, Joey, and Roscoe) who, upon first being walked, got right into it. All I had to do was teach them to keep up with me. Even Mama C's late, great Gracie--who had never been walked until I dog-sat her while Mama was on vacation--even she would walk with me--and she was like 19 years old!
I had even had each dog's bowel movement synchronized so that we could complete the walk without decorating the neighbors' lawns.
So, when I put either Ruby or Pearl on a leash, their first impulse is to drop to the ground.
As with my other dogs, I try to walk them one-at-a-time. The first time with Pearl, she would drop, I would walk ahead and call to her, she would scurry close to the ground like a cockroach and drop again. We repeated this for almost a block, when she finally got spooked and just wouldn't move. I had to carry her home.
Ruby's first time was the same, except I took her in a different direction and she didn't make me carry her.
The other night I tried a different approach. I took each separately to my front lawn. Sat with each for awhile and petted, letting them get used to wearing a leash while having one-on-one time with me. After about ten minutes of this, I actually got Ruby to walk with me. Pearl wasn't quite that cooperative, so we spent most of the time just sitting on my stoop.
Later, long after we were done, I was sitting on my couch reading, when I could hear the two of them making a racket like no other I had ever heard. It was about midnight. I went out to see what was going on. They were hidden behind a large bush near their dog run, yapping like mofo's.
I couldn't see anything but the bush, so I returned to the mouse for a flashlight. I went into the dog run and turned on the flashlight and there lay a huge possum. It was either dead or playing dead. So, once they saw the light, both dogs came out and, one-by-one, I got them in the house and went back out to check out the possum, who had already left. So I guess he wasn't dead.
I have had other dogs (Gloria, Joey, and Roscoe) who, upon first being walked, got right into it. All I had to do was teach them to keep up with me. Even Mama C's late, great Gracie--who had never been walked until I dog-sat her while Mama was on vacation--even she would walk with me--and she was like 19 years old!
I had even had each dog's bowel movement synchronized so that we could complete the walk without decorating the neighbors' lawns.
So, when I put either Ruby or Pearl on a leash, their first impulse is to drop to the ground.
As with my other dogs, I try to walk them one-at-a-time. The first time with Pearl, she would drop, I would walk ahead and call to her, she would scurry close to the ground like a cockroach and drop again. We repeated this for almost a block, when she finally got spooked and just wouldn't move. I had to carry her home.
Ruby's first time was the same, except I took her in a different direction and she didn't make me carry her.
The other night I tried a different approach. I took each separately to my front lawn. Sat with each for awhile and petted, letting them get used to wearing a leash while having one-on-one time with me. After about ten minutes of this, I actually got Ruby to walk with me. Pearl wasn't quite that cooperative, so we spent most of the time just sitting on my stoop.
Later, long after we were done, I was sitting on my couch reading, when I could hear the two of them making a racket like no other I had ever heard. It was about midnight. I went out to see what was going on. They were hidden behind a large bush near their dog run, yapping like mofo's.
I couldn't see anything but the bush, so I returned to the mouse for a flashlight. I went into the dog run and turned on the flashlight and there lay a huge possum. It was either dead or playing dead. So, once they saw the light, both dogs came out and, one-by-one, I got them in the house and went back out to check out the possum, who had already left. So I guess he wasn't dead.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Talk to Your Mother While She Is High
A while back, Mama C had a problem getting her Parkinson's meds. This problem had occurred before, but this time, we couldn't get the neurologist to OK the prescription before her supply ran out. So, by the time we got her more pills, she had gone without for a couple of days.
So, once we finally got the prescription filled, we--Billy C, Pammy C, the care-giver, and yours truly--all just figured we'd better put her back on the meds.
Soon, she became loopy: getting confused, hallucinating. This has happened before and was, as far as I can tell, meds-related. But Parkinson's can cause dementia, so each time this happened, we all wondered if we'd get her back. After a visit with her general phyzish, we'd get the meds cleared up and she'd eventually come down.
Brief Editorial: Yes, both Parkinson's and our health-care system are terrible.
Billy C and I take her to Doc Lars and, once again she gets things straightened out and instructs us to gradually re-introduce Mama C's meds just as if she were taking them for the first time.
Afterwards, I take Mama C out for a steak. But she's still kind of loopy, see. She's coming down, but she's loopy. We'd sit there talking, when her attention would suddenly focus on a large, illusionary spider crawling along the wall of our booth. Of course, I'd tell her it wasn't there and she'd come back into focus.
So she brought up the pictures of Officer Bertino at dinner.
Officer Bertino was the father of her boyfriend Kenny Bertino. She dated him before WWII. Officer Bertino died in the line of duty answering a routine domestic disturbance call that took him to the home of this guy he had arrested many times before in the "Mexican" part of town. This guy get drunk, get into a fight with his wife, maybe hit her a couple of times, and Officer Bertino would drive down and arrest him. While this guy sat in the jail cell, Officer Bertino and the other cops would get him cigarettes and play cards with him.
Except for this one night. The guy had a gun. He shot off a couple of rounds, one of which hit Officer Bertino in the head.
I learned about this one day while Mama C still lived in her house. She had been going through all of her old pictures. I came over and saw these three pictures of this middle-aged man in his police uniform: one with him just standing there, one with him and a little neighbor girl, and one with him posing on his motorcycle.
Apparently when she had found these pictures and contacted Kenny, whom she hadn't seen in about 60 years or so. She told him of the pictures. He told her that he didn't have a single picture of his father.
So, she promised to send these to Kenny. The next day one of the ladies that came in every other day to help Mama C around the house "put them away" and we couldn't find them anywhere. We knew they were in a manila envelope, but there were so many manila envelopes in every corner of Mama C's house. Everyone had kind of written them off as being thrown out with the trash.
Fast forward a couple of years. As I am taking out the last few boxes of keepsakes from Mama C's house, I find a manila envelope just sitting on top of one of the boxes of pictures that has been sitting out in the open in the same spot for the last two years. Yep, it held Officer Bertino's pictures.
This was just before Mama C's latest medication hub-bub. I had just mailed them to her Kenny. She has been very anxious about them and had asked me again if they got to him. And wondered why he hadn't called to say he had gotten them.
Knowing old people as I do now, I realize that the answer to that question, my friend, is blowing in the wind.
So she tells me her memories of Officer Bertino's funeral procession. She desribed how the entire Rio de Nada Police Department came out in their dress uniforms and lined Orange street as she sang "Ave Maria." She finished, saying "I was just never sure he cared about me."
"Mom," I said. "Are you saying that dad was your second choice?"
"No," she said. "It's just that Kenny was such a good-looking kid and all the girls just loved him."
Then she went on.
"I broke up with him during the war, while he was overseas. I wrote him a letter."
The things you don't know about your mother could fill a book, couldn't they? And if we were all given that book early on, we'd understand the so much better.
So, once we finally got the prescription filled, we--Billy C, Pammy C, the care-giver, and yours truly--all just figured we'd better put her back on the meds.
Soon, she became loopy: getting confused, hallucinating. This has happened before and was, as far as I can tell, meds-related. But Parkinson's can cause dementia, so each time this happened, we all wondered if we'd get her back. After a visit with her general phyzish, we'd get the meds cleared up and she'd eventually come down.
Brief Editorial: Yes, both Parkinson's and our health-care system are terrible.
Billy C and I take her to Doc Lars and, once again she gets things straightened out and instructs us to gradually re-introduce Mama C's meds just as if she were taking them for the first time.
Afterwards, I take Mama C out for a steak. But she's still kind of loopy, see. She's coming down, but she's loopy. We'd sit there talking, when her attention would suddenly focus on a large, illusionary spider crawling along the wall of our booth. Of course, I'd tell her it wasn't there and she'd come back into focus.
So she brought up the pictures of Officer Bertino at dinner.
Officer Bertino was the father of her boyfriend Kenny Bertino. She dated him before WWII. Officer Bertino died in the line of duty answering a routine domestic disturbance call that took him to the home of this guy he had arrested many times before in the "Mexican" part of town. This guy get drunk, get into a fight with his wife, maybe hit her a couple of times, and Officer Bertino would drive down and arrest him. While this guy sat in the jail cell, Officer Bertino and the other cops would get him cigarettes and play cards with him.
Except for this one night. The guy had a gun. He shot off a couple of rounds, one of which hit Officer Bertino in the head.
I learned about this one day while Mama C still lived in her house. She had been going through all of her old pictures. I came over and saw these three pictures of this middle-aged man in his police uniform: one with him just standing there, one with him and a little neighbor girl, and one with him posing on his motorcycle.
Apparently when she had found these pictures and contacted Kenny, whom she hadn't seen in about 60 years or so. She told him of the pictures. He told her that he didn't have a single picture of his father.
So, she promised to send these to Kenny. The next day one of the ladies that came in every other day to help Mama C around the house "put them away" and we couldn't find them anywhere. We knew they were in a manila envelope, but there were so many manila envelopes in every corner of Mama C's house. Everyone had kind of written them off as being thrown out with the trash.
Fast forward a couple of years. As I am taking out the last few boxes of keepsakes from Mama C's house, I find a manila envelope just sitting on top of one of the boxes of pictures that has been sitting out in the open in the same spot for the last two years. Yep, it held Officer Bertino's pictures.
This was just before Mama C's latest medication hub-bub. I had just mailed them to her Kenny. She has been very anxious about them and had asked me again if they got to him. And wondered why he hadn't called to say he had gotten them.
Knowing old people as I do now, I realize that the answer to that question, my friend, is blowing in the wind.
So she tells me her memories of Officer Bertino's funeral procession. She desribed how the entire Rio de Nada Police Department came out in their dress uniforms and lined Orange street as she sang "Ave Maria." She finished, saying "I was just never sure he cared about me."
"Mom," I said. "Are you saying that dad was your second choice?"
"No," she said. "It's just that Kenny was such a good-looking kid and all the girls just loved him."
Then she went on.
"I broke up with him during the war, while he was overseas. I wrote him a letter."
The things you don't know about your mother could fill a book, couldn't they? And if we were all given that book early on, we'd understand the so much better.
Monday, October 22, 2007
As the Day Begins
You never know where the day will take you.
I teach with another teacher four periods a day and we share a big double-sized classroom. We also each teach a class alone. His single class is first period.
So I walk into our classroom during his first period, smile (or scowl--it IS 7:45 AM) at his students--many of whom I know well. My colleague is instructing his students to start an assignment while they wait for the bell to ring.
So, I sit at my computer and log on, when I hear a girl sobbing hysterically. I turn around, and this girl has her hands over her face and, as I said, is sobbing. A couple of students get up to comfort her, but she says nothing and just keeps sobbing. My colleague walks over and starts patting her on the back and tells her it's ok, but gives me a look that shows he has no idea what's going on either.
And she keeps sobbing. Usually, you can expect high school girls to begin crying like this at a moment's notice, but they usually calm down. This poor girl was heaving and sobbing and clearly unable to talk.
We both realize that she's not crying but is having problems breathing. So, I quietly tell my colleague that I'm going to call the school nurse and I do so.
The nurse walks in, very calmly, and goes to the girl. She knew who this girl was when I gave her our room number and begins telling her in a calm voice "It's ok Christy. Breath. Just breath."
The girl starts breathing and gasping and soon sobs "My body hurts! My body hurts!"
The bell rings and I shepherd the students out. I tell my colleague that I'm going to keep the students outside, thinking at the time that the girl will be alright once the crowd leaves.
So the class and I sit over at the lunch tables and wait. By the way, it's very windy outside, so dust is blowing everywhere.
Soon administrators come. Then the girls mother comes. Then the paramedics come.
I take the students to the library to get out of the wind and because I don't know what's happening or how long it will take.
Meanwhile, my colleague is in there with the girl, the nurse, the girl's mother, and several administrators. Tells me later how the girl went into seizure five times and actually turned blue. All the while, the nurse gently reminded the girl to breath.
The paramedics took her to the hospital and I don't know how she is but I haven't heard from my colleague or anyone else, so I hope that's a good sign.
But what a day.
I teach with another teacher four periods a day and we share a big double-sized classroom. We also each teach a class alone. His single class is first period.
So I walk into our classroom during his first period, smile (or scowl--it IS 7:45 AM) at his students--many of whom I know well. My colleague is instructing his students to start an assignment while they wait for the bell to ring.
So, I sit at my computer and log on, when I hear a girl sobbing hysterically. I turn around, and this girl has her hands over her face and, as I said, is sobbing. A couple of students get up to comfort her, but she says nothing and just keeps sobbing. My colleague walks over and starts patting her on the back and tells her it's ok, but gives me a look that shows he has no idea what's going on either.
And she keeps sobbing. Usually, you can expect high school girls to begin crying like this at a moment's notice, but they usually calm down. This poor girl was heaving and sobbing and clearly unable to talk.
We both realize that she's not crying but is having problems breathing. So, I quietly tell my colleague that I'm going to call the school nurse and I do so.
The nurse walks in, very calmly, and goes to the girl. She knew who this girl was when I gave her our room number and begins telling her in a calm voice "It's ok Christy. Breath. Just breath."
The girl starts breathing and gasping and soon sobs "My body hurts! My body hurts!"
The bell rings and I shepherd the students out. I tell my colleague that I'm going to keep the students outside, thinking at the time that the girl will be alright once the crowd leaves.
So the class and I sit over at the lunch tables and wait. By the way, it's very windy outside, so dust is blowing everywhere.
Soon administrators come. Then the girls mother comes. Then the paramedics come.
I take the students to the library to get out of the wind and because I don't know what's happening or how long it will take.
Meanwhile, my colleague is in there with the girl, the nurse, the girl's mother, and several administrators. Tells me later how the girl went into seizure five times and actually turned blue. All the while, the nurse gently reminded the girl to breath.
The paramedics took her to the hospital and I don't know how she is but I haven't heard from my colleague or anyone else, so I hope that's a good sign.
But what a day.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Designed for Dogs by Dogs
I got two puppies in August. I named them Ruby and Pearl. They are the mongrel offspring of my brother's latest dog, who is herself one of the ugliest dogs I have ever seen. Someone found her as a stray and somehow, Billy C got bamboozled into adopting it. Turned out she was pregnant to boot.
For mutts, they are quite beautiful. If I can get a picture of them where they don't jump up and try to eat the camera lens, I'll post them.
Anyway, when I moved into this house, the dog run out in back had an old dilapidated dog house, ripe with termites and other vermin. Gloria wouldn't go near it, but Joey would. It was so unsightly that I dismantled it (actually, it just sort of collpapsed when I touched it) and got one of those Dogloo things. Neither dog ever went inside it that I know of. It didn't matter if it rained, if the wind was blowing, or it was cold outside. Whenever I put a mattress in it, they would pull it out and sleep outside the Dogloo.
Roscoe, Gloria's replacement, would go inside either.
When I brought Ruby and Pearl home, I cleaned out the dog run and tried to give it some feng shui. I cleaned out the Dogloo and put in a mattress. At first, they'd go inside once in awhile. But, like their predecessors, they'd take the mattress out and sleep outside.
There was this old plastic garbage can on wheels that I got before the city started providing receptacles for the various grades of garbage. It's been sitting in my back yard for the past years--only being used when I had extra garbage. Ruby and Pearl knocked it over one day and discovered that it made a great doggie fort. They would use it to play hide-and-seek, king of the mountain, and some doggie games for which I don't know the rules.
The morning after the rain last week, I went outside and found that, instead of using the Dogloo for shelter, Pearl had used the garbage can. Then I thought, hey, it's big, durable, and the wheels make it easy to move around--the perfect dog house.
So I cleaned the thing out and put it right next to the Dogloo. They love it.
The only problem is that, when they are playing king of the mountain, the think makes a racket like a cannon every time one of them jumps on top of it.
I hope they don't play at night.
For mutts, they are quite beautiful. If I can get a picture of them where they don't jump up and try to eat the camera lens, I'll post them.
Anyway, when I moved into this house, the dog run out in back had an old dilapidated dog house, ripe with termites and other vermin. Gloria wouldn't go near it, but Joey would. It was so unsightly that I dismantled it (actually, it just sort of collpapsed when I touched it) and got one of those Dogloo things. Neither dog ever went inside it that I know of. It didn't matter if it rained, if the wind was blowing, or it was cold outside. Whenever I put a mattress in it, they would pull it out and sleep outside the Dogloo.
Roscoe, Gloria's replacement, would go inside either.
When I brought Ruby and Pearl home, I cleaned out the dog run and tried to give it some feng shui. I cleaned out the Dogloo and put in a mattress. At first, they'd go inside once in awhile. But, like their predecessors, they'd take the mattress out and sleep outside.
There was this old plastic garbage can on wheels that I got before the city started providing receptacles for the various grades of garbage. It's been sitting in my back yard for the past years--only being used when I had extra garbage. Ruby and Pearl knocked it over one day and discovered that it made a great doggie fort. They would use it to play hide-and-seek, king of the mountain, and some doggie games for which I don't know the rules.
The morning after the rain last week, I went outside and found that, instead of using the Dogloo for shelter, Pearl had used the garbage can. Then I thought, hey, it's big, durable, and the wheels make it easy to move around--the perfect dog house.
So I cleaned the thing out and put it right next to the Dogloo. They love it.
The only problem is that, when they are playing king of the mountain, the think makes a racket like a cannon every time one of them jumps on top of it.
I hope they don't play at night.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Riverside Ukulele Liberation Front in the News and the Meeting that Wasn't Going To Happen but Did
Here's a link to the Press Enterprise article on the Riverside Ukulele Liberation Front:
http://www.pe.com/lifestyles/stories/PE_Fea_Daily_D_ukes0901.36221dc.html
If you scroll down to just below the byline to where it says "Interactive: The Riverside Ukulele Liberation Front" and click on the "Riverside Ukulele Liberation Front" part of it, you'll see a cool slide show featuring me taking to much time tuning my ukulele, as well as some f the circles musical stylings.
Last month, we had decided to postpone this month's meeting until the weekend after labor day. Big mistake. The article appeared and pretty soon, people were calling and asking about it. So, Do and I showed up just in case any newbies came.
There were seven.
So, we met some new folk and played a little. Not everyone stayed because it was so hot in the basement (today's temp was a round 110). Do sent home for a fan, so that helped a lot. Next week, we all bring fans.
http://www.pe.com/lifestyles/stories/PE_Fea_Daily_D_ukes0901.36221dc.html
If you scroll down to just below the byline to where it says "Interactive: The Riverside Ukulele Liberation Front" and click on the "Riverside Ukulele Liberation Front" part of it, you'll see a cool slide show featuring me taking to much time tuning my ukulele, as well as some f the circles musical stylings.
Last month, we had decided to postpone this month's meeting until the weekend after labor day. Big mistake. The article appeared and pretty soon, people were calling and asking about it. So, Do and I showed up just in case any newbies came.
There were seven.
So, we met some new folk and played a little. Not everyone stayed because it was so hot in the basement (today's temp was a round 110). Do sent home for a fan, so that helped a lot. Next week, we all bring fans.
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