I Got Quoted!

Every now and then I Google "Dainty Bones" to see what comes up. And usually there are just links to this blog and various blog entries. No big deal.

Last week I did this and I saw a quote of mine regarding Jazz Guitarists come on a couple other websites I have no connection to. One of them was British. That was nice. (British people are nice when they're NOT butchering or colonizing peoples) Yeah, these 2 other sites barely get any hits either, but it was cool to see some folks I didn't know (unless they were friends trying to boost my self esteem, or an impersonal drone ) enjoy a little rant of mine so much they bothered to put it up on their own pages.

Large amounts of readers would be nice, but I never got into this thankless business of writing blogs (from the heart - to you) for the numbers or money game. If I've moved or changed the path of just one soul, then I've done my job.

Where I've been quoted:
http://coverbandslondon.com/dainty-bones-jazz-guitarists/

http://www.scoop.it/t/jazz-guitar/p/3263218874/dainty-bones-jazz-guitarists

(I don't endorse or condemn these sites)
More information to back up the ultimate truth that I am indeed a pathelic little attention whore.

(Street Football) The Big Banana Cut Back.

At the end of August, we'd put away our baseball gloves in exchange for the pigskin. Most often this would take place in the back alley or a church parking lot. From early on, we were taught to run extremely tight pass routes. Our role model at the time was Steve Largeant who was some slow little white boy wide receiver for the Seahawks who would always manage to get open. Look him up if you're not familiar.

If you didn't run a tight pass route, chances are, you wouldn't get open, and even worse you'd get ridiculed for running a route like a little girl. Nobody wanted this, everybody wanted to get open, everybody wanted to score a touchdown. It was pick up football, in the back alley, but it was taken seriously. Your manhood, at age six or seven was on the line, and it got even more serious as you got older.

This was probably my experience listening to, and trying to follow instructions. My brother would give me specific routes to run. He was the quarterback up until I got into high school when I proved I could be a pretty accurate and consistent, and a serious threat when rolling out of the pocket. (I'm a lefty). When this happened, the roles were reversed, and I was calling the plays, and it progressed to the point where we would run timing patterns. Which means, I would throw the ball before he would make the break/cut in anticipation (the ball would already be in the air before he was ready to catch it). He was faster and ran better pass routes than me, so me becoming the quarterback was mutually beneficial.

The first "serious" pass route I learned to run was the "Big Banana Cut Back." You had to run it quickly otherwise the QB would tits up. You'd run in sort of a curve (see diagram above) to the other side of the field. To sell the route, you had to act as though the ball was on its way, and this would happen after a little pump fake from the QB - which would cause the QB to over commit as you were cutting back the other way. It took a whole afternoon or so to get that one, and eventually I'd half ass the route and hear about as I'd return to the line of scrimmage.

The fact that we could call plays and strategize on a field, in a game, involving people quite captured my imagine. Many times during grade school classes and bullshit lectures, I'd find myself obsessing over designing elaborate plays. It got my head working, and working in a positive way I think. Street Football theory was amazing to me.

Now, in reality, it was rare that an elaborate play call lead to an easy touchdown. In most cases, my team mates were confused (not the defense), didn't care, or I didn't explain it well to them. Many times they'd lead to turnovers or hi jinx.

In conclusion, Street Football and other sports provided an escape from much of the bullshit that went on and I get a little sad that I just don't see pick-up games as much anymore. I would really get lost in such competition. Aside from the fun of designing football plays, there were fights, name calling, taunting, arguments, mom insults and all of this beautiful tension that seemed to make many of us a lot tougher. I received some of it (I was a skinny kid), everybody did. And nobody whined to their god damned parents and cops didn't bother us.

Those days are gone, new memories are being created but not on the makeshift concrete gridiron.

Dear Lord, save us from this generation of sissies.

Ed Emberley

The first thing I can remember being obsessed with, or caught up in, was drawing. There was a nice public library, the first one I remember going to, and despite it's statist sterile institutional vibe, it did have a kid's section that my mother directed me towards. I must have been four or five. There was a rack on the wall with these very thin drawing books.

Up until then I was just making things up in my head, or drawing how I thought things looked like. And, there's nothing wrong with that. But these drawing books, hanging on the wall seemed to grab me and I couldn't put them down. These were, of course, drawing books by Ed Emberely. I had that name in my mind for awhile and his drawing instructions were always being looked at. More importantly, he had a book devoted to trains and trucks which I needed to have, and I got it. (I had a train obsession).

The illustrations seemed to be designed/created for kids that age. They were quite minimal, reducing everything to shape and line (no shading). Everything was put in a step by step way, which at times, I struggled to follow, cause I wanted to get to the end, right away, asap. The beautiful thing about this was you could see the process, and you could see it build. These books kept me busy for house.

I went through many of his books, I remember getting a purple one for my birthday, or Christmas. Jumping from section to section, learning how to draw pirates and ships and vampires. It was empowering in a way, to have these books and feel as though you could draw anything you needed, on the spot, just following the instructions. I liked that.

I eventually moved on from the simplicity of that type of style, and going to other sources (it ran its course), but it served as a good starting point and a lesson in following detailed instructions. I could take these little books and spend hours at the kitchen table drawing trains and faces and trucks.
There was no need to ask anyone for help, it was all in the book.

I'm Okay with Obama's Assasination Policy on US Citizens

Read this if you're unaware:
http://www.salon.com/2010/04/07/assassinations_2/

Maybe we shouldn't care. Maybe it's about time. We've been doing this abroad for so many years now and nobody seems to care. Anyone suggesting our foreign policy is a bit messed up is considered a nut. Few Americans have the brain power to imagine if the tables were turned and if other countries, say China, did the same things to us, that we do in the Middle East.

Americans, even bleeding heart/sensitive lefties, seem to be quite silent when it comes to these things, due to blind party loyalty (as if it were infallible religion). Consistency/objectivity seems to be tossed out the window in favor of a lust for power and entitlement ("we want our stuffs"). That's what really matters in America. Violence is okay here.

If we dish it out, we should be able to take it. Right?

So, what would happen if a few Americans were assassinated (assuming the media would report it). The real threat to liberty might be exposed. Some of us soon might be able to understand a bit of violence others have been going through in far off places. It could possible bring people together who otherwise wouldn't be united.

Those 3 Words I Can't Say.

Okay, maybe I said them once to someone years ago, we won't speak of. Maybe I did. I can't remember and I was probably under the influence (probably covered in body sweat), it was late, and it was dark. If it happened. And I probably shouldn't have said that at that time. And, I did in fact end up taking them back, a couple years afterwards. Maybe for that brief instant I meant it, but at that I time I didn't seem to have control or understanding of what was going on. They were just words.

The point is, I have a block. Something won't allow me to speak them. I'm mid thirties and it's still literally painful for me to try to say them. Can't bring myself to it. I'm not even talking about romantic bullshit because I've successfully avoided that for years. I'm just talking about expressing that genuinely to people who have been tolerant enough to be around me, support me, and take care of me. It's no easy task and all of them have been graceful.

Understandably, most people don't want to hear it cause it makes everything weird and serious but it's probably the best thing you can tell someone. I don't like hearing those words being thrown at me. But there are people I literally owe those words too. And every time I get a chance I can't. I can say "thank you" quite easily, but that doesn't compare.

I need to get over this obstacle. I have a fear eventually some of these people will die not knowing my feelings. I need to force myself out of the comfort zone. Before it's too late.

The Good Time Charlie

(What a weird expression.)

Maybe Charlie really knows what's going. He was probably hurt in the past, found it a drain, and decided to live life in a fun casual way. He realizes the fragility of relationships and wishes not to partake, for the deeper they grow, the greater chance of larger destruction. Not worth it. He just wants to free but not necessarily alone. Charlie has "no skin in the game."

He may have some mental quirks and at times be off putting to most of the civilized world but he keeps going, in search of a good time. No commitment. He doesn't want to harm himself seriously by partaking in big fun, but at the same time, he doesn't see himself going much past fifty years old, if that.

He's happy to be alive and delighted he didn't start a family because most of his offspring would probably be fucked in one or more ways, like he is. He doesn't want to have to deal or take care of that (he probably couldn't have a dog for more than three weeks). He's content in solitude and likes his bed best and sleep.

He was given a lot, which allows him a little security and more space to make semi-reckless decisions, but on the downside he isn't creating any wealth or a future, like most Americans. It's more of a "taking" approach, as opposed to "giving" or "building" or "creating."

He tries to be a help, in his own minor way, but generally his biggest concern is his own comfort and well-being and getting enough sleep - and he knows this. He has his bars/taverns and his group of people he can repeat obscene juvenile homo-erotic humor to on regular basis and this never seems to get old.

He knows himself well, and knows what he wants. Which is very little from anyone else.

Life can be hard, when you're livin easy.

How does Yacht Rock make me feel.

Music is the ultimate tool to tinker with emotions and create the mood. Some people lift weights and train to metal music for added intensity. Coffee shops will sometimes play jazz to help relax everyone. Pornography will sometimes play music with tribal percussion and "raunchy funk" bass lines to make the situation even more sexual. If I happen to bring someone back to my place I usually Pandora some post-punk band before balls go completely to the wall (that "game on" moment - if you will - yeah, that rarely happens/life's hard). All it is is just notes n rhythms at various frequencies played with different instruments, together, in a pattern sort of. Right? I think.

Then one day a man stumbles upon the genre of Yacht Rock. Or, maybe you've heard since childhood, dismissed it like me, or even mocked it, only to give it a second look. A more open and non judgemental look, freely, allowing it to move you. What does it do? Why do I do I now have a Yachtrock section on my IPod? How did I get beyond the laughter and obvious insults?

Before I explain, I should probably tell uninformed people what Yacht Rock is. Here's how the urbandictionary.com describes it:

"Another name for the adult-contemporary musical movement in the late 1970's and the early 1980's. It was defined mostly by its smooth sound. Popular Yacht Rockers include: Kenny Loggins, the Doobie Brothers, and Steely Dan."

Other names I might included would be Christopher Cross and Michael MacDonald (I know they mentioned DBros, but MM needs to be singled out). Youtube these bands/artists to get a good feel of exactly what I'm talking about.

So how does it make me feel? Let's list some emotional words/phrases that apply to how I feel when I listen to Yachtrock.

1)Smooth
2)Refined and polished
3)Emotionally moved, but not overboard, in a rather controlled sense
4)Luke-warm
5)Like I want to move a bit, but not much, again, stable enjoyment
6)Like management in a corporation
7)Like I should be wearing loafers without any socks, and dress in white
8)Free, but in the most responsible way, like I just left a church service
9)Cool but not rebellious, rather respectful
10)Clean, like washing your face.

Most people aren't looking to feel this way, but if you wish to share in these vibes, pop in "Sailing" by Christopher Cross, or, "I Keep Forgettn" by Mr. Michael MacDonald. Please list your own description of how Yacht Rock feels to you....and refer to my other blog post on the Top 10 Yacht Rock songs for more in depth descriptions of my personal favorite Yacht Rock songs.

dB