P.S. - Merry Christmas!

May your upcoming weeks and New Year be HAPPY!

To a Peaceful, Safe and Prosperous...

HAPPY HOLIDAYS and a Successful 2016

“Seasoned”, ©Jeff Glovsky

Jeff Glovsky (Words Bye)

"I feel so old.  I wish I was mold!"

- Little Greg (age 10)

Having just "celebrated" -- endured, really -- the one-year-shy-of-my-Big-5-0 day -- my 49th, to be exact -- and presented with the painfully script-titled, "Massacre at San Bernardino" that day... on my day, December 2nd, to live now in infamy...

And after a few months of silence, occasionally suffering, wondering what the continued point is?  My sad whims and heroes, repulsions and rages, important to no one; my caustics, obnoxious ... my poems, increasingly best expressed wordless...

I've decided to end here, "The Fall of Jeff Glovsky".

It was more than five years ago things fell apart ... I've spent almost three now, undoing some damage...

One learns by (un)doing.  One burns to move on.

For anyone reading -- or Googling and looking, then 'stumbling upon' -- my cozy, empty nest in the blogosphere, Thank You.

For reading.

I'll write again soon.

"Done”, ©Jeff Glovsky

* *

Geschloßen

It was a beautiful thing to see and feel ... the warmth of the Willkommen, reach for ideal ...

Reality bites, though.  Has bitten back, seemingly hard, already ...

As the Munich HBF has become increasingly a protected zone -- and too easily, perhaps a target -- the gift-givers and welcome-Sänger advised to stay home, the permanent residents of Stadt München incovenienced and detoured onto their own separate overcrowded and painfully efficient Züge and Wagen just to get where they're going, back home or to work each day ... Reality is biting back.

Seemingly hard.

First of all, there is no more room at the Gasthof.  The borders are now closed.  Munich has "welcomed" (allowed in) more than 13,000 refugees this weekend alone.  Just overnight, from yesterday to today!  Sexy, but not arm, proud München can ...

Luckily.  Since the end of August -- in less than two weeks -- the city herself has seen (and admirably, handled) an influx of 63,000 people.  That's almost 5,000 human beings per day ... pouring in on the trains, into HBF ... to the city, the country and hopefully, the societal fabric.

They're not here for Oktoberfest.  They won't be buying Lederhosen, beer and Trachten hats, and bringing these back with them to Aleppo.  Die Flüchtlinge are here to stay ... and as warmly and efficiently as Munich, Bavaria and Germany have so far rolled out the welcome mats, practical integration must now be applied.

I stop just short of saying "enforced" ... yet that, in fact, is what must be reality.

“Integration Blue(s)”, ©Jeff Glovsky

Hole in the Sky

“Missing (You)”, ©Jeff Glovsky

because it must.

* * *

Human Garbage

Fired Hungarian camerawoman Petra Laszlo

* * *

Szégyen - Shame

Care, and Vigilance

In this summer of our discontent, with shootings and racism, homelessness, shootings and racial insanity, shootings, bad music, the death of Bill Cosby and racial shootings in the United States ... and (im)migrants stealing across borders in Europe, invading, creating encampments of despair, yet boundless hope "over there"-- and Brazil going south -- 

which way do I turn?

When I care but can't help, or can't care to help (can't be bothered) - because after all, what's the point (When I fall in the forest, does anyone hear me?)?  Feeling helpless, without hope myself, I succumb:  to inaction, and try to profess an "indifference" ...

While seismic demographic shifts take place, overtaking the landscapes and bludgeoning hegemony; the Banhofs and Autobahns, shorelines and coastlines awash with a tidal surge of humanity ... Families escaping, in flight -- Flüchtlinge ...

Refugees fleeing -- fugindo -- seek refuge.  The words hang together, saying similar things ... a melting pot of assimilations, sharing a genesis ... Like "those people" pronouncing or spelling them differently.  Borne of the same place, the same etymology, if you will ... We are all of us human.

Having said this, there must be order maintained.  There are laws to abide by, as well as etiquette inherent in the guest / host dynamic.  Everybody has got to eat, and there must be enough jobs to allow all to do so.

While it's "polite" and "correct" to "welcome" an influx of displaced humanity, and humans, sharing genesis, for the most part want to ... On a practical level, the borders should not, cannot, be simply flung open.

Germany's push to disperse the new arrivals is potentially harrowing -- Could families be torn apart, to meet quotas? -- and schönen München's herzerwärmende open arms display does not seem particularly thought-through.  Inspiring, emotional, indeed heartwarming ... Certainly what we, as fellow human beings, aspire to and would want for ourselves in a "do unto others", karmic way.

But despite the country's center stage role, and shining examples of welcome and tolerance -- not to mention the peerless steerage of Angela Merkel, coming from the East herself and no doubt recognizing 1980's scenes of trains and walls and Luftballons ...

 

It's important to keep a practical head on our shoulders.  When the last of the well-intentioned chickens and blueberry pies and high-heeled shoes have been gifted in Willkommen, and a meant-to-be-transitory Zwischenstation for many, devolves into permanent crises in housing, disease, crime or civil unrest ... because in the end, fear of the "other" and hatred, fueled in part by prideful ignorance and an innate desire within any species, human or otherwise, to exist amongst creatures who look and communicate similarly, but not to assimilate ...

will not go away.

Inasmuch, the (im)migrants, refugees, all "those people" seeking asylum and better lives in the West via Germany and other places, aren't the problem.  The problem inherently lies in wait, in a societal home opening its doors to guest strangers ...

Then there lurk larger, much darker, non-human issues, unable ever to be solved practically ... With September 11th approaching, and the world well-aware how things changed since '01, it's not inappropriate to point out that any mass influx of humanity to "the West", unfettered by visa regulations, could -- COULD, it's conceivable -- include a bad apple.

Or two.  Or 1300 ...

The USA's near total laissez-faire on USE's latest migrant drama (the worst since 1992) -- uncharacteristically not butting in, but remaining fairly silent to see how Europe fares -- is surprising, in this regard.  Is a full-bellied Trojan Horse marching westward ... ?

Is "the East", figuratively speaking, 'sending rapists'?

Will Chancellor Merkel, and certainly that idiot from Hungary, be left dumm dastehen, with blood on their hands?

I'd like to think not.  Wouldn't want to believe it ... but sadly, it mustn't be discounted, as we do keep the borders, as well as our arms, hearts and, necessarily, eyes flung open.

Schrei nach Liebe (die Ärzte) - with English lyrics

[ #AktionArschloch! ]

Mind(ing) the Gap

Hope you're having a great

 

AM!

 

C U Soon ...

Bon(ed) Soir

"a musical wasteland of endless bass solos and fart-like runs ... "

 This was all I could muster after seeing Wycliffe.

I don't know if the music was lacking, it was the overall vibe of the Lincoln Center Out-of-Doors crowd (most of them there to see Randy Newman this night) ... younger now, but no less pretentious and trying-too-hard-seeming as when I used to live across the street and (barely) attended auld FU.

Or, have I finally stopped trying too hard to dig jazz?

When I used to immerse in the scene, in the clubs, eating cheeseburgers ... waitresses (swimming in sax!) ... with the crowing, old voices of jazz legends nightly, and Wryly Sardonix demanding I leave ... which I did one night, mid-set, when he yelled from the stage that he sounded "like shit" and the cause of that mess fell on my deaf ears ... WHAT!?

I stormed offstage that night before he did!  There's only one King, bitch, and I left the building!!!

... Where was I?

Oh, right.  So Wycliffe Gordon ...

I went to see James Brown once, back in the day when we lived in America ... and shuffling around the stage at Radio City Music Hall at one point with an RK-100, he launched into a noodling rendition of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" ...

Now don't ever let anyone try and tell you that James Brown, 'the Godfather', was NOT a show-stopper!  He stopped that show dead ... ground to a halt, as he strutted and poked on his shoulder-slung Korg, an eighteenth, nineteenth and twentieth verse.  Of "Take Me Out to the Ballgame".

Really.

"The hell is he doing?" a guy behind me asked his date.  Something large and thrown fell just short of the stage ... A chorus of "boos" began, like an imagined cliché scene, and rose in cresecendo until filling the theater.

James Brown stripped to his undershorts and started kicking Rockette-like, as the curtain came down and there wasn't an encore.

Just kidding!  Nobody really threw anything.

But I remember that night well ... I hooked up with a girl who thought she had tickets to see Jethro Tull ... and experienced something like it last night seeing Wycliffe.

Or maybe I wasn't in the mood.

Blah Blah (Versions)

About Jeff Glovsky
on ...

LinkedIn (DE)

Dividing his time between München and New York City, Jeff Glovsky is a dedicated business owner / entrepreneur with an ear for writing and an eye for photography; and a multimedia / presentation support specialist with a background in live music and years of hands-on experience in touring, club, festival, hotel, university and Tier 1 financial settings.

 *

XING

Jeff Glovsky offers corporate event services, AV / production support and renewable (solar) energy consultation to an established private client database. He is a photographer / "raw" image content provider and a published writer of exaggerated non-fiction ("faction") short stories and prose poetry.

*

Viadeo

Jeff Glovsky is a corporate event services and executive travel consultant, as well as a boating enthusiast and yacht and private jet charter partner. He has been a jazz and world music booking agent, and currently works with the non-profit Global Music Project® as a regional events director.

 *

Music2Deal

As a live 'Tonmensch' (sound engineer), Jeff Glovsky has mixed sound at the Blue Note, Jazz Standard and Birdland jazz clubs in New York City, and for Sue Mingus and the Mingus Big Band / Mingus Orchestra.

 *

AVglov (Jeff Glovsky)

[ ... is an Audio-Visual technician / operator with a corporate event services skill set and background in live music and sound mixing.  He is a regional events director with Global Music Project®, and a freelance photographer and raw image / content provider.  His portfolio of idiosyncratic Photo(s) by Jglo can be seen on Behance, and across the ongoing "Lo-Fi Project" on Tumblr and WordPress. ]

 *

LinkedIn (U.S.)

Dividing his time between New York City and Munich, Germany, J(eff) Glovsky is a corporate event services and executive travel consultant, as well as a boating enthusiast and yacht and private jet charter partner.

 *

Mickey Mouse Thinking

So far, over the course of my life, I've been known to put my foot in it ...

When I was very young, my mom gave me a watch ... a Mickey Mouse watch with a pleather red band ... and I didn't like it.  I made some face, or remark, of displeasure upon receiving the gift and my mom was disappointed.  Her face fell.

I immediately wished I'd applied a filter ... and spent the rest of my childhood asking my mom, at random, inappropriate hours and often apropos of nothing, "Do you believe I like the watch?" - I sensed she was hurt that I didn't like it, quickly told her that I did ... then spent the next ten years or so trying to convince us both!

In high school, against all odds at the time in northern Wisconsin, I had a friend who was black.  I'd cart her around town, to and from school, we'd drink bottomless cups of coffee (or beer) together ... We danced the Cha-Cha one night in my white tuxedo!

So "Micki", as I'll call her here, and I had Spanish class together.  One day, during another interminable lesson by Señora Lulu, we started fighting over a pluma ...

I like to keep a pen behind both ears.  That's just how I roll!  So I can whip one out in a hurry when inspiration strikes ... or stave off attackers ... and Micki took one of them this day and started using it.  Blatantly reached behind my ear and nicked my Bic!!

We started tussling ... Micki took her shirt off, and was starting to pummel me with both fists when I blurted out something that ended, unfortunately, with the word "black" as a compound noun.  Like, "Oww!  Stop hitting me, Micki!  You black ... "

And then she REALLY hit me.

“What Did I Say??”, ©Jeff Glovsky

Years later, I was working on this show with the lovely actress Leila Martin.  She and her husband, or collaborator (writer/director), John, I think, were doing this cabaret tribute to Gertrude Lawrence ... and already disillusioned with the strange, internecine theater world I had gone to school to be a part of, I began recounting one day all the diva nutjobs I had thus far worked with (and/or dated or was lucky (or drunk) enough to 'get with' ;) ...

There was Luba, who lost a glove and burst into tears; Mary Kate, who lost a goldfish and burst into tears ... Scott and Debra, who used to call me "Biff" (don't ask) ... and all these people prancing around, overfull of themselves, obnoxiously so ... and this was well before our present day world of selfie whores, delusional "Idols" and narcissistic self-absorption.

Today, all the world really is a stage ... but this was just theater folk back then.

And I started opining to Leila Martin that every diva "has their little favorite" ... their little celeb célèbre that they celebrate ... imitating ... or in worse-case scenarios, becoming (or trying) ... backstage one day, while she was putting on make-up, at work at 'becoming' Gertrude Lawrence.

Completely clueless, yet compelled, I went on ... trashing the "conceit" of theater in general, theater people especially -- and most especially, "diva nutjobs" -- while indirectly trashing the performer who was paying me!  Neither Leila Martin nor John (Meyer) ever thanked me for my work on their lovingly crafted and reverent tribute ... nor spoke to me again during the run of that show.

It's in this spirit of occasionally speaking too much or too loudly, of saying wrong things at worst possible moments, and eventually regretting (or not) what you realize too late you may have been stupid in saying ... that I throw my support into the ring for Donald Trump in 2016.

Like him or not, Trump gets things done - and says things, unscripted, which he doesn't regret.  There are few more "presidential" traits I can think of, that would actually seem to be requirements for the job of president of the United States, than track record, accomplishment and a firm sense of commitment ... which is exactly the trait which spurs accomplishment and creates track record ... On and on.

(And Mom:  I really did like the watch :)

My Baggage Thanks You

I'm always amazed when individuals "in charge" -- those wearing clothing emblazoned with company logos ... In uniform, running the shows, ostensibly, and holding down forts in exchange for their paychecks -- engage that representative power to help ...

You'd think this is something that should go without saying ... and in Europe, across much of the airline, food service, banking, car rental, hotel and other hospitality sectors, it does.

There is pride in a uniform "over there", still ... A sense of contributing to the common goals of a shared community as much as an overriding ... if not desire, than at least, obligation, to represent their company logos appropriately, and make an effort -- in a pleasant way -- to provide assistance, if and as needed, to other human beings.

In the States, this is often sorely lacking.  There is laziness.  Indolence.  Pushback.  Sore attitude.

All of the above being preferable, arguably, to stark indifference:  the apathetic numbness shown by employees too bored to give a shit.

Thus, happily, did I arrive to depart recently at one of New York's better known "third world" airports ...

For some reason, my flight was being "operated by" another airline - not the airline whose website I visited, and which collected my payment.

A different airline.

... Ergo, a different airport terminal than the one in front of which a taxi deposited me and my baggage.

To my further dismay, I realized I was already about 45 minutes from my scheduled departure; and walking (or running!) between hugely spaced, unconnected terminals at this particular third world airport would not be an option.

So I flailed around trying to find a ride for a minute ... then fumed as I heard a harried shuttle driver bark into a dispatcher's radio, "Ten minutes!  Be there in five to ten minutes!"

I waited.  I fumed.  A shuttle finally arrived, and I climbed aboard with a pilot or two ... a baggage handler ... and sped off toward the correct terminal ... which again, for some reason, did not belong to the airline I was supposedly flying!

Praying this wasn't some sort of mistake (or a sick prank ... Deceived again!) ... I climbed over the pilots, the baggage handler ... Did a lap dance with an elderly couple ... and leapt from the shuttle van.  Ran into the airport and up to the kiosk ... Swiped this, and entered that ...

NO!

My flight, by this point departing in only thirty minutes, was already closed.  As instructed on-screen, I went to 'see attendant' ..

To make a long story medium-length, this lovely lady loved her job.   Respected the uniform she wore, and the corporate logo she represented, and skillfully, helpfully, whisked me to the front of the security line ... Rock star-like bypassing the holiday throngs, with a hastily printed standby ticket for any random later flight (This lovely lady knew things! ;) ... so I was able to get to the gate and catch my flight.  Against the clock, and against all odds.

I'm on that flight now ... and as the sun sets above the clouds, it dawns:

We Americans ... Hectic, obnoxious, harried, demanding, rude, preferring to be left alone; inconveniencing others when we're inconvenienced (often through nobody's fault but our own) ...

Or I, in any case; ME, American ... get the service and treatment too often deserved.

"Freedom, Struggle", ©Jeff Glovsky

(Who Will) Go There

49,999 views on Google+

50K ... Will it be YOU?

We, The Internet

"A marketplace has emerged where shame is a commodity and public humiliation an industry" - Monica Lewinsky

*

As those who know me (and that one person who reads me here) will attest, I started this blog two years ago, in an effort to reclaim and restore the health of my name ...

Today, if you search me by name online -- Google or otherwise, the name "Jeff Glovsky" -- you may be confused, a little bit ...

but you won't be alarmed.

You won't be "advised" or "warned" about me.  It won't be opined that I'm a "fraud" or running a "scam" ... egregiously reported I've 'changed my name' or "disappeared" (?, ?! and ??).

Instead, you'll see what I do, where I am and who ... What I think about you, if you try to exploit the professional, then needlessly public, resultingly personal failure in my life five years ago;

if you try to cash in on that, as some have, without even knowing me, let alone knowing the full and accurate picture back in 2010, or the context of public accusations and their actual circumstances ... Instead, just piling on hysterically, flailing in response to the damaging, (thus far) permanent online "yelps" which remain -- those few that I haven't (yet) been able to remove from the internet -- you'll end up frustrated.  And/or legally thwarted.

As some have.

There is nothing that's worse than the fears, paranoias, mistrusts and mistakes that the internet, in its ease-of-use ubiquitousness and far-flung global reach, can breed.  The righteousness, the indignations, Schadenfreude and misplaced anger it creates ... the fanning of flames, the men and women it blames ...

The damages that YOU -- "the internet" -- can too easily cause.

In some cases (too many!), your harshing and judging and chiding and "owning" ... Your relentless attacking, name-calling, abusing if you feel aggrieved or inconvenienced, or because things can't be "instant" and you're impatient ... or just.because. ... can end in tragedy.

In my case, after several years of shell-shock subsided and I was finally able to rise from the dead and fight back -- in part, by calling out new aggressors while unequivocally identifying crimes of theft of reputation -- I find, in my favor, I'm not alone.

Online shaming by kangaroo court is increasingly recognized as the bullying and intimidation that it is ... and every website that provides a one-sided, unbalanced, often unmoderated public forum for such ranting and venting:  opinions, "reviews" or accusations without verification -- guilt before innocence -- should be taken down.

Just as we -- "the internet" -- are for some reason required to "opt out" of things, as opposed to being asked to opt in ...

We, The Internet, have got everything else wrong also.  Nobody should be required to "sign up" to view a website. Nobody should need to use Facebook for "verification".  Nobody should ever accept being charged -- sorry, "authorized" -- on a credit card before making a purchase ...

And nobody should ever be blindsided online ... harassed and insulted, and forced to "fight back".

The public displays can be embarrassing.

*

“Well Hung”, ©Jeff Glovsky

"Rages" ... Quoi?

I have NO IDEA why such a sensationalistic, nonsense headline?  Seriously, CNN ...

(of course she "rages" ... She's just batshit cray cray, ain't she??)

Anyway, my own protest against the unneeded, unlicensed, untrained and unwanted is far more sedate.

“Uber Aus”, ©Jeff Glovsky

Sad Father Land

I give up.

I've been fairly vocal about race in America:  trying desperately to keep perspective while all about me were losing theirs.

I've acknowledged my shortcomings, on par with yours ... yet endeavored to point out that "racism" is not, nor should it be, the automatic knee-jerk, go-to response to every frustration that comes down the pike.

It isn't always cut and dried ... It's certainly not always black and white;

I've empathized with Donald Sterling ... not because he was "right", but because he's old.  I was inclined, and still am, to step back and recognize an old man's f(l)ailings ... as I might recognize the increasingly churlish, not wholly appropriate remarks of my own 'old man' - born not of hatred, but of longing:  for another era, another body, another lifetime to be able to choose more wisely ...

I 'got' Donald Sterling.  And I get you, Dad.  Happy Father's Day.

Though at times, the things you say are not right, I can't police your thoughts ... and your actions have always spoken louder than any petulant, unfunny words you might utter.

You and Mom taught me well ... but I will also get old ... and toward that end, I get you.

Just like I 'got' Donald Sterling ...

I'm on record on a social network arguing, in terms of race relations, that "in the United States, there has been VAST progress. Yes, there are still pockets of ignorance (and unwarranted 'fear') ... but they are shallower pockets, at this juncture in history, than in many other countries" and,

"To refute this, or keep trying to suggest otherwise, is as irresponsible as it is inaccurate" (December 2014).

Now, six months later, in the wake, and midst still, of Treyvon Martin, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Walter Scott, Freddie Gray and Baltimore ... New York City cop killings, Texas chainsaw pool parties ...

This Stooge of the South, showering pure racial hatred ... my revised verdict is in:

The U.S. seems no further along than the early/mid-20th century, if not the 19th, in its white and black dynamic:  its overall preference for segregation, its deep-rooted fear and mistrust of 'the other'; the tangible efforts that have been made, too often couched in a language of equality ... "affirmative action" and fulfilling of quotas, if not demands ... instead of, and at the expense of, inclusion or actual integration.

Americans don't seem to want to be integrated.  U.S. institutions, societal fabrics, don't -- in fact, won't, and refuse to -- support it.

Awareness -- thoughts, recognition -- are one thing.  Action, and actual change, are another.  As with Old Man Sterling (or Stormin' Norm Glovsky), these must go hand in hand before premature judgments get handed down.  I don't believe Donald Sterling is "racist".

I no longer believe the United States has made substantive progress in terms of race.

If You Dig

S U P P O R T  n  J O I N

(Blue) Noted Passing

"I don't care much about music.  What I like is sounds." - Dizzy Gillespie

"Clouds float in the same pattern only once." - Wayne Shorter

"When people believe in boundaries, they become part of them." - Don Cherry

"Play what you want and let the public pick up on what you are doing, even if it takes them fifteen or twenty years." - Thelonious Monk

"Don't play the saxophone.  Let it play you." - Charlie Parker

"I'll play it and tell you what it is later." - Miles Davis

"You can have tone and technique and a lot of other things but without originality, you ain't really nowhere."

Lester Young

*

Without being hip to the fact at the time, each of the cats quoted above, in his own way, blew a eulogy for Ornette Coleman.

Ornette was "out".  He was different.  He 'couldn't play', yet "rewrote the language of jazz" (no small feat in a musical landscape of perpetual innovation (once), and the ethereal dissipation of improvised note bursts nightly, on a 'moment's notice').  Maynard Ferguson thought O.C. had "bad intonation, bad technique".  Miles Davis, judging by the sounds Ornette's axe made, concluded that "talking psychologically", he must be "all screwed up inside."  Another trumpeter (oddly), Roy Eldridge, thought Ornette Coleman was "jiving, baby."  And even kindred free musical spirit, Thelonious Monk, likewise known for "playing wrong right", was heard to exclaim, "Man, that cat is nuts!".

One of the few who seemed to 'get' Ornette was Charlie Mingus, who, another kindred musical spirit, was able to recognize the "organized disorganization" of Coleman's (non)playing ... yet at some point complained, "he can't play it straight."

Now as everyone acknowledges, and some admit (vehemently), there is a lot of jazz garbage out there.  There are the Spoogers, just gacking out notes for no reason ... the Noodlers, annoyingly poking, inserting ... the Vocalists (most of them), entirely disrespecting the "songbooks" they pillage (not to mention audiences' time, patience, money) ... There are literally people "performing" who shouldn't be.

"Hell is full of musical amateurs."  - George Bernard Shaw

I myself am no musician.  I don't capably play any instruments (yet?  One of my biggest regrets in life, so far), and I'm no authority.  But I do know well and appreciate jazz:  its humor, its sense of chaos, its combustible spontaneity ... and above all, its take it or leave it, 'is what it is' ethos, too often exploited because, Hey! It's Jazz!

"Jazz is the type of music that can absorb so many things & still be Jazz."- Sonny Rollins

... For better or worse.

Unlike many (rabid) fans of the genre, I am not hagiographic.

But I don't get the sense that Ornette Coleman was spooging (or noodling, or ever "jiving").  I think he was onto something bigger than jazz ... Not only taking the invisible music -- silences and "mistakes" -- received and famously transmitted by Monk, to inevitable next levels (albeit on every tune!) ... but also culturally prescient, in foreshadowing our present day aversion to "labels" - to being labelled, (mis)categorized, (mis)identified ... this rejection of easy, or 'normal', classifications, indeed a 'shape of jazz to come';

and in being cool with imperfections -- perhaps, limitations -- yet rightfully expecting to be accepted, at least heard.

*
"It was when I found out I could make mistakes that I knew I was on to something."

"I think that every person, whether they play music or don't play music, has a sound - their own sound, that thing that you're talking about." - Ornette Coleman
1930 - 2015

Are You Hearing Me?

For many years, I have had the good fortune to be a live sound engineer - mixing bands that can play actual musical instruments ... so that I, as any actual live "sound engineer" should be able to do, can discern between the varied sounds and tones of each instrument (the human "vox" included) ... as opposed to, say, sitting behind a computer (a digital sound console) and lazily babysitting "presets" (watching the faders zoom up and down together).

writes Mr. Nice Legz

As any self-respecting musician (or opinionated windbag in the business) will tell you, there is nothing worse than a lazy sound guy.

That said, there are clearly advantages to going digital in a live sound environment.  Because digital processing is self-contained -- that is, all of the effects, equalization, compression, etc., can be accessed from within the sound console itself -- there is no longer any need for racks, and stacks of "outboard" gear cluttering the tech. table or mixing area ... so when babysitting digital presets myself, I can at least put my feet up.

Once I was doing this hotel gig, and we started discussing the lunch that was going to be served that day.  As we were finishing breakfast, waiting for the morning's first presentation ... the in-house sound guy I was working with blurted, "Salmon!  Never been much of a salmon guy.  Just give me a nice piece of friggin' swordfish!"

And then he fell mountainously asleep at the sound board.

See, that's what I'm talking about!

That's the main difference between analog and digital audio mixing.  It's apples and oranges ... salmon and swordfish!

... Its Ugly Head

This unhappy fella

began whistling this

when he found himself riding the bus

with ... "THESE PEOPLE".

Racism

... comes in many colors.

It isn't always black and white.

To be honest, I question whether some of this, as reported, actually happened ("No Diet Coke for you"? Really?? Someone said that?  Was Pepsi okay? :).

Things are often embellished, blown out of proportion, (conveniently) misremembered or misheard ... and "The Internet", where the Tahera Ahmad / United Airlines discrimination story is the virus du jour, is simply not the barometer of truth that ... well, "The Internet" ... tries WAY.TOO.HARD to make us believe.

But the sad, New York asshole, above and below, whistling "America" from West Side Story as a Mexican (not Puerto Rican, mind you) family sat down on the bus beside him, IS truth.  You do exist, dude ... Saw and heard you behave that way!

You should be ashamed of yourself.

Indictments and Pure Class

It doesn't take a genius to realize -- nor should acknowledgement be particularly "grudging" in this regard -- that "rampant, systemic, and deep-rooted" corruption, graft, cheating and subterfuge triumph in sports.

From the littlest league to the global arena, the only real competitions are those waged trying to game the system ... and usually, these plays are not televised.

Nobody has broadcast rights, exclusive or otherwise, to the internecine maneuverings and greed-fueled strategies of the Mad Men-style executives posing as "chairmen" ... "commissioners" ... "coaches" and "athletes" ... of sundry "leagues" across every country.

It's business.  As usual, behind closed doors ...

It's nobody's business when all goes well.  When teams are winning and revenue's flowing, like Krug or the summer dresses of models, the Players (with a capital 'P') -- those chairmen, commissioners, coaches and athletes -- reap benefits worthy of high stakes "winning".

When one cog in this wheel, though, "forgets" to file his tax returns ... or a codger, seemingly divorced from reality -- running around with his visor-wearing younger "girlfriend", much to the chagrin and mortification, but ultimately, vindication, of his wife -- pops off ...

and the world, in its self-righteous Schadenfreude, piles on ... there is no surcease from hell raining down!

Along similar lines -- the rarefied worlds of loose money, fast women and scheming sports / business moves churning away behind closed, global doors (and colorful visors) --

a dear friend of mine was impolitely asked to leave the 6th Annual Better World Awards in Monte Carlo a few weeks ago.

A quite noble endeavor (according to its website), the BWA "salute(s) philanthropic prominent celebrities, athletes, entrepreneurs and corporations who are making the world a better place."

My friend is a journalist -- who will eventually tell this story, much better than I -- and was invited to participate in covering the BWA from their little "red carpet" on May 16, 2015.  Smack in the middle of the much larger, far more accessible and Press-friendly Cannes Film Festival -- but not seeming to give a shit about its 'second class' status on the Cote d'Azur during the third week in May -- the Better World Awards proceeded apace ... this year to a largely empty house, and virtually zero "star power".

The lovely Eva Longoria did show up (as did Guy in the Plaid Pants), to accept her Global Philanthropist of the Year award - following in the footsteps of previous Better World Award winners and honorees including Boris Becker and Julian Lennon.

My friend, though, the reporter, for reasons still not entirely (made) clear, was asked to leave, and through the back door, by International Luxury Media, the company that organizes this lofty annual event.

I was not there, and am simply responding based on what I've been told by several sources who were ... but by all accounts, there transpired quite a disgusting public display by the ILM CEO, and my stunned friend (and writing colleague) was shown the back door.

So far, that's all I know.  More will be written about this grotesque kerfuffle ...

In the meantime, I'll try and

keep things classy.

Hello, Sailor!

Happy U.S. Memorial Day 2015

 * * *

(Don't let it happen to you!)

Calloo! Callay!

I did it!  I did it, Mother!  I really did it!

Whoooooooooooo ...

"Leave It", ©Jeff Glovsky

Postcard(s) at Night

"To mourn a mischief that is past and gone

is the next way to draw new mischief on" - Mr. Shakespeare

*

Recently, for the first time in nearly five years ... Why, since literally being run out of town back in '10 ... I spent an enjoyable extended stay in Miami.

Miami ... Where a young(ish) man's dreams turned to ash, along with the molt of his reputation.

Miami!  Death of name and pride ... The violent starvation of anything lovely, the horror of shame-given life, told to hide ...

Made to feel horrendous.  A loser inside.

Watch the wife feed the loser ... half-believing the lies ...

Having nowhere to turn, or herself run and hide, she can only reluctantly flail and pile on; not wanting to feel her love for The Loser, she can only hold tight to her furies, resentments and 20-year grudges, and dredging these up to protect herself when she feels the way she's supposed to feel:  in love and supportive, not wanting to harm ...

Not wanting to wound him and kill anymore than he's already crippled and dying inside ... her defense is to do exactly that:  wound and kill, any love she feels might be alive still.

Protecting herself, because Loser's disabled ...

“Gone Skyline (Night)”, ©Jeff Glovsky