June 30, 2008
IMPERIAL
...in about sixty years they'll look like this...
yesterday I put a set of grover imperials on the new ibanez...they're the same tuners that ship stock on d'angelico's and other such archtop models...definitely an upgrade on the stock ibanez tuners, and I must say that this being my first venture into replacing gold parts (instead of the usual chrome or nickel), they sure do look snazzy...
before/after pics to follow shortly...
also on order: tv jones classic for the bridge position...and I'm replacing all the pots...but after that, I promise, the guitar will remain absolutely stock...
that is, until I get disenchanted with the neck pickup....
(pictures fixed: too many audio files being stored, maxed out my allotment--I took some off the server last night and things are better now...see tuners [above] and tigers [below]...)
............................................
day later appraisal: do tuners make a difference in sound? well, as one of the two endpoints for the stretched string, they certainly do, and when I plugged it into an amp last night I really thought I could hear and feel the difference...I guess because instead of a spindly piece of metal attached to a fabricated plastic knob, it's a thick metal cylinder being controlled by a rather large metal tuner...it feels more solid--the note sustain certainly hasn't suffered, and aside from the other intangibles the dang thing stays in tune better--which is the whole idea! ... definitely a significant improvement ... now I can't wait for the new bridge pickup to arrive. I'm going to swap out the potentiometers at the same time that I install the new pickup.
also, I put a set of roundwounds on the guitar since that's all I had, and I'm liking them more than I expected. but I'll set aside my flatwounds vs. roundwounds debate for another day....
...
June 27, 2008
SUMMER IN THE CITY
Novel
by Arthur Rimbaud
Translated by Wyatt Mason
I.
No one's serious at seventeen.
--On beautiful nights when beer and lemonade
And loud, blinding cafés are the last thing you need
--You stroll beneath green lindens on the promenade.
Lindens smell fine on fine June nights!
Sometimes the air is so sweet that you close your eyes;
The wind brings sounds--the town is near--
And carries scents of vineyards and beer. . .
II.
--Over there, framed by a branch
You can see a little patch of dark blue
Stung by a sinister star that fades
With faint quiverings, so small and white. . .
June nights! Seventeen!--Drink it in.
Sap is champagne, it goes to your head. . .
The mind wanders, you feel a kiss
On your lips, quivering like a living thing. . .
III.
The wild heart Crusoes through a thousand novels
--And when a young girl walks alluringly
Through a streetlamp's pale light, beneath the ominous shadow
Of her father's starched collar. . .
Because as she passes by, boot heels tapping,
She turns on a dime, eyes wide,
Finding you too sweet to resist. . .
--And cavatinas die on your lips.
IV.
You're in love. Off the market till August.
You're in love.--Your sonnets make Her laugh.
Your friends are gone, you're bad news.
--Then, one night, your beloved, writes. . .!
That night. . .you return to the blinding cafés;
You order beer or lemonade. . .
--No one's serious at seventeen
When lindens line the promenade.
29 September 1870
[for all the young (and not so young) lovers out there...]
...
June 24, 2008
ON STUPIDITY
I see no reason not to spend this entire week enjoying a retrospective of the great George Carlin...
similar riff (from dumb to fat) a few years later:
and some fine observations on the disposition of white folks:
....
June 23, 2008
CARLIN
George Carlin 1937-2008
If you don't know by now I can't help you...but here's a quick review...
and here are the seven words you (still) can't say on TV:
Shit
Piss
Fuck
Cunt
Cocksucker
Motherfucker
Tits
and here's the transcription of the entire bit:
"I love words. I thank you for hearing my words. I want to tell you something about words that I uh, I think is important. I love..as I say, they're my work, they're my play, they're my passion. Words are all we have really.
We have thoughts, but thoughts are fluid. You know, [humming]. And, then we assign a word to a thought, [clicks tongue]. And we're stuck with that word for that thought. So be careful with words. I like to think, yeah, the same words that hurt can heal. It's a matter of how you pick them.
There are some people that aren't into all the words. There are some people who would have you not use certain words. Yeah, there are 400,000 words in the English language, and there are seven of them that you can't say on television. What a ratio that is. 399,993 to seven. They must really be bad. They'd have to be outrageous, to be separated from a group that large. All of you over here, you seven. Bad words. That's what they told us they were, remember? 'That's a bad word.' 'Awwww.' There are no bad words. Bad thoughts. Bad Intentions.
And words, you know the seven don't you? Shit, Piss, Fuck, Cunt, Cocksucker, Motherfucker, and Tits, huh? Those are the heavy seven. Those are the ones that will infect your soul, curve your spine and keep the country from winning the war.
Shit, Piss, Fuck, Cunt, Cocksucker, Motherfucker, and Tits, wow. Tits doesn't even belong on the list, you know. It's such a friendly sounding word. It sounds like a nickname. 'Hey, Tits, come here. Tits, meet Toots, Toots, Tits, Tits, Toots.' It sounds like a snack doesn't it? Yes, I know, it is, right. But I don't mean the sexist snack, I mean, New Nabisco Tits. The new Cheese Tits, and Corn Tits and Pizza Tits, Sesame Tits Onion Tits, Tater Tits, Yeah. Betcha can't eat just one. That's true I usually switch off . But I mean that word does not belong on the list.
Actually, none of the words belong on the list, but you can understand why some of them are there. I am not completely insensitive to people's feelings. You know, I can dig why some of those words got on the list...like cocksucker and motherfucker. Those are...those are heavy-weight words. There's a lot going on there, man. Besides the literal translation and the emotional feeling. They're just busy words. There's a lot of syllables to contend with. And those K's. Those are aggressive sounds, they jump out at you. CocksuckerMotherfuckerCocksucker. It's like an assault, on you. So I can dig that.
And we mentioned shit earlier, of course. Two of the other 4-letter Anglo-Saxon words are Piss and Cunt, which go together of course. But forget about that. A little accidental humor there. Piss and Cunt. The reason Piss and Cunt are on the list is that a long time ago certain ladies said 'Those are the two I am not going to say. I don't mind Fuck and Shit, but P and C are out. P and C are out.' Which led to such stupid sentences as 'OK, you fuckers, I am going to tinkle now.'
And of course the word Fuck. The word Fuck, I don't really...well, this is some more accidental humor, but I don't really want to get into that now. Because I think it takes too long. But I do mean that. I mean, I think the word fuck is an important word. It's the beginning of life, and, yet it's a word we use to hurt one other, quite often. And uh, people much wiser than I have said, I'd rather have my son watch a film with two people making love than two people trying to kill one other. And I of course agree. I wish I know who said it first, and I agree with that. But I would like to take it a step further. I would like to substitute the word fuck, for the word kill in all those movie cliches we grew up with. 'Okay Sheriff, we're gonna fuck ya now. But we're gonna fuck ya slow.' So maybe next year I'll have a whole fuckin' rap on that word. I hope so.
Uh, there are two-way words, but those are the seven you can never say on television. Under any circumstances you just can not say them ever, ever ever, not even clinically. You can not weave them in the panel with Doc and Ed and Johnny, I mean it's just impossible, forget those seven, they're out.
But, there are some two-way words. There are double-meaning words. Remember the ones your giggled at in sixth grade? 'And the cock crowed three times.''Hey, the cock the cock crowed three times. It's in the bible.' There are some Two-way words, like it's okay for Curt Gowdy [mis-spelled in original transcription. -ed.] to say 'Roberto Clemente has two balls on him.' But he can't say, 'I think he hurt his balls on that play Tony, don't you? He's holding them. He must have hurt them by God.' And the other two-way word that goes with that one is prick. It's okay if it happens to your finger. Yes, you can prick your finger, but don't finger your prick. No, no."
...
June 20, 2008
FRIDAY LAMENTATION
the sonnet-ballad
by Gwendolyn Brooks
Oh mother, mother, where is happiness?
They took my lover's tallness off to war,
Left me lamenting. Now I cannot guess
What I can use an empty heart-cup for.
He won't be coming back here any more.
Some day the war will end, but, oh, I knew
When he went walking grandly out that door
That my sweet love would have to be untrue.
Would have to be untrue. Would have to court
Coquettish death, whose impudent and strange
Possessive arms and beauty (of a sort)
Can make a hard man hesitate--and change.
And he will be the one to stammer, "Yes."
Oh mother, mother, where is happiness?
...
June 18, 2008
TWAAAAAAANG!!!
...for the bridge position...
could be a whole new chapter...a little gretsch tone for the hollowbody....stay tuned...
...
June 17, 2008
I'D RATHER HAVE A THREE-DAY MEDIA BLACKOUT OVER THIS GUY...
Esbjorn Svensson
1964-2008
...and I had only recently become aware of the music of E.S.T. tremendous group. Esbjorn was a motherfucker...
...
June 16, 2008
STORMY WEATHER
...the house behind my house...
as it happened, the electricity and internet service were on so intermittently since last tuesday that I have yet to have much opportunity to upload the pictures I took on my block of felled trees and storm damage. but I think this one shot ought to speak volumes. that is a very big tree. and it fell on the house I look at when I'm in my backyard. it's not a flood in iowa or a tornado in kentucky. this is my block, in new jersey.
storms are predicted again for tonight. saturday night's thundershowers produced 11 hours with no electricity. now they're saying we're to have more thunder and lightning...we seem to be entering an era of no guaranteed power from our most significant power utility for an entire season of the year. this strikes me as a very significant development affecting millions of people. perhaps when the 5-day media blackout/Russert wake is concluded the news folks can wipe their collective noses (inside and out) and look into delivering relevant information on the current infrastructure crisis in Essex County...
...
June 13, 2008
ABBA, FATHER
1
by Stéphane Mallarmé
Translated by Paul Auster
child sprung from
the two of us — showing
us our ideal, the way
— ours! father
and mother who
sadly existing
survive him as
the two extremes —
badly coupled in him
and sundered
— from whence hi death — o-
bliterating this little child "self"
...
happy fathers day to all you mothers...
...
June 12, 2008
WHEN THE LEVEE BREAKS
...watch this space tomorrow...by then I hope to have internet service returned at home...will post some pictures of my neighborhood...big giant trees falling down on houses...scary storm stuff...essex county nj is in rough shape...
...
June 10, 2008
FOUR YEARS
I am four years sober today.
We are not given much time. To spend so much of it drinking booze, to no good effect, is absolutely pointless. To become such a crashing bore was the absolute antithesis of what I had hoped for in my life. So now I greet each day grateful to be out of that life. My brother coached me, my wife stubbornly kept me to my promises, and some (not all) forgave me. To them I owe deep and abiding gratitude.
So now I pat myself on the back and quietly get back to the business of life. There's no diploma. We keep on.
Stay strong.
...
WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL THE FAT ITALIAN GUYS?
...see me I am the stubblemost...
this is andreas oberg. some of us think that he is simply far too good-looking to be a serious jazz guitarist. he should be out in L.A. making those horrible smooth jazz joints with chris botti and kenny g...but it turns out he is more than just a pretty face. this golden-haired pretty boy wrote a chart that is kicking my unpretty ass this week. and I can't make fun of him until I master the darn thing. damn.
...
June 09, 2008
HEAT WAVE
... forget about "heat wave"... this is exhaust fumes from the incendiary wrath of Hillary ...
Whenever I'm with you
Something inside starts burning
and my heart's filled with fire
Stop this - it's got a hold on me
I said this ain't the way it's supposed to be
It's like a heatwave burning in my heart
I can't keep from crying
Tearing me apart
Whenever he calls my name
Sounds so soft sweet and plain
Right then, right there
I feel this burning pain
This high blood pressure's got a hold on me
I said this ain't the way love's supposed to be
It's like a heatwave burning in my heart
I can't keep from crying
Tearing me apart
Whenever I'm with you
Something inside starts burning
And my hearts filled with fire
Something's got me amazed
Don't know what to do
My head's in a haze
It's like a heatwave burning in my heart
I can't keep from crying
Tearing me apart
1963 Holland-Dozier-Holland (composers)
1964 Martha & the Vandellas
1979 The Jam
...
June 06, 2008
VAMPIRE OUTLAW OF THE MILKY WAY
I Am a Cowboy in the Boat of Ra
by Ishmael Reed
'The devil must be forced to reveal any such physical evil
(potions, charms, fetishes, etc.) still outside the body
and these must be burned.' (Rituale Romanum, published
1947, endorsed by the coat-of-arms and introductory
letter from Francis cardinal Spellman)
I am a cowboy in the boat of Ra,
sidewinders in the saloons of fools
bit my forehead like O
the untrustworthiness of Egyptologists
who do not know their trips. Who was that
dog-faced man? they asked, the day I rode
from town.
School marms with halitosis cannot see
the Nefertiti fake chipped on the run by slick
germans, the hawk behind Sonny Rollins' head or
the ritual beard of his axe; a longhorn winding
its bells thru the Field of Reeds.
I am a cowboy in the boat of Ra. I bedded
down with Isis, Lady of the Boogaloo, dove
deep down in her horny, stuck up her Wells-Far-ago
in daring midday getaway. 'Start grabbing the
blue,' I said from top of my double crown.
I am a cowboy in the boat of Ra. Ezzard Charles
of the Chisholm Trail. Took up the bass but they
blew off my thumb. Alchemist in ringmanship but a
sucker for the right cross.
I am a cowboy in the boat of Ra. Vamoosed from
the temple i bide my time. The price on the wanted
poster was a-going down, outlaw alias copped my stance
and moody greenhorns were making me dance;
while my mouth's
shooting iron got its chambers jammed.
I am a cowboy in the boat of Ra. Boning-up in
the ol' West i bide my time. You should see
me pick off these tin cans whippersnappers. I
write the motown long plays for the comeback of
Osiris. Make them up when stars stare at sleeping
steer out here near the campfire. Women arrive
on the backs of goats and throw themselves on
my Bowie.
I am a cowboy in the boat of Ra. Lord of the lash,
the Loup Garou Kid. Half breed son of Pisces and
Aquarius. I hold the souls of men in my pot. I do
the dirty boogie with scorpions. I make the bulls
keep still and was the first swinger to grape the taste.
I am a cowboy in his boat. Pope Joan of the
Ptah Ra. C/mere a minute willya doll?
Be a good girl and
bring me my Buffalo horn of black powder
bring me my headdress of black feathers
bring me my bones of Ju-Ju snake
go get my eyelids of red paint.
Hand me my shadow
I'm going into town after Set
I am a cowboy in the boat of Ra
look out Set here i come Set
to get Set to sunset Set
to unseat Set to Set down Set
usurper of the Royal couch
imposter RAdio of Moses' bush
party pooper O hater of dance
vampire outlaw of the milky way
...
June 05, 2008
BOBBY
...Robert Kennedy campaigning on the boardwalk at Rockaway, 1964...
from a reminiscence in today's NYT by Kathleen Kennedy Townshend, on the 40th anniversary of her father's assassination...
" ...he was returning late from a trip to the Mississippi Delta, where he’d been conducting Senate hearings on hunger. It was 1967, and I was 15.
After the bell rang, I got to the dining room before the others. The long table was set with linen, silver and crystal. Painted portraits of my brothers and sisters hung on the walls. And suddenly, my father entered. He looked haunted and started talking to me, shaking his head in distress as he described the people he’d met in the Delta. “I was with a family who live in a shack the size of this dining room,” he told me. “The children’s stomachs were distended and had sores all over them. They were starving.” He was outraged that this could happen in the world’s richest country.
“Do you know how lucky you are?” he asked me, and then repeated, “Do you know how lucky you are? You have a great responsibility. Do something for these children. Do something for our country.”
"
...........................................................................
He also said:
All of us might wish at times that we lived in a more tranquil world, but we don't. And if our times are difficult and perplexing, so are they challenging and filled with opportunity.
Every society gets the kind of criminal it deserves. What is equally true is that every community gets the kind of law enforcement it insists on.
Few will have the greatness to bend history itself; but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total; of all those acts will be written the history of this generation.
I believe that, as long as there is plenty, poverty is evil.
If any man claims the Negro should be content... let him say he would willingly change the color of his skin and go to live in the Negro section of a large city. Then and only then has he a right to such a claim.
It is not enough to understand, or to see clearly. The future will be shaped in the arena of human activity, by those willing to commit their minds and their bodies to the task.
Let us dedicate ourselves to what the Greeks wrote so many years ago: to tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world.
One-fifth of the people are against everything all the time.
Only those who dare to fail greatly can ever achieve greatly.
Progress is a nice word. But change is its motivator. And change has its enemies.
The free way of life proposes ends, but it does not prescribe means.
There are those who look at things the way they are, and ask why... I dream of things that never were, and ask why not?
Ultimately, America's answer to the intolerant man is diversity, the very diversity which our heritage of religious freedom has inspired.
What is objectionable, what is dangerous about extremists, is not that they are extreme, but that they are intolerant. The evil is not what they say about their cause, but what they say about their opponents.
.....................................................................................
My only memory of Bobby Kennedy is that he was the first man I ever saw on the tv who had been shot. They broadcast film of him after the shooting on the evening news, images that are now as famous as any from that dark decade. I also remember my mother's loving admiration of him. I read these words and admire their prescience, if only because they remind us that the human condition is still as deeply flawed and in need of perfecting as the world we live in. RFK's guiding principles originated in this simple belief--that all of us have a responsibility to each other to continually perfect ourselves, and if we do that, then the aggregate result will be a better and more compassionate world for all.
Now, 40 years later, a negro is a candidate for president of the country he died in trying to perfect. and despite any negative rhetoric his political opponents still might still send in his direction, his words live on.
because they are true. and now, it would seem, Bobby has won. Bobby won!
...
June 04, 2008
SI SU PUEDE
MOTHER-FUCKING-A!!!!
....................................................................................
didja hear about this?
the appropriate response is very simple, effective and deserved: TAX HIM.
...
June 02, 2008
HARVEY KORMAN, R.I.P.
I grew up with The Carol Burnett Show, and one of its key comedic devices, unintended I'm sure, was the spectacle of watching Harvey Korman turn red and teary, trying not to laugh...here's a classic example, the legendary "dentist sketch"...watch as harvey fights unsuccessfully to keep from laughing at tim conway's bumbling dentist...
...