Southern Society

Living in the American South is a challenge. Not only is one faced with the history of slavery, white trash, and plantation life there is a colloquial dialect in place that no longer carries the torch for Southern hospitality. Upon hearing the brogue one can only think the people that live in the American South are ignorant and sheltered from the realities of the rest of the world. Take Mike Easley for example. Like his predecessor Jim Hunt Easley looks like a doughboy. Why is it lawyers from North Carolina must resemble Sam Bowden from the movie Cape Fear? That “Old School” southern lawyer stereotype is doing nothing but hurting the image of the South. Traditionally they might fly a Confederate flag, hang a shotgun in the window of the truck, and yell “Yee Hi” at the top of their lungs. Actually that is a description of the lower income bracket in the South by Jeff Foxworthy. Southern lawyers are more likely to go to the country club, play golf, and have lavish parties at their mansions. I was exposed to this way of life early, because Fayetteville, North Carolina, this little cloistered town stuck on Interstate I-95 had a rather large contingency of elite wealthy. I went to school at the University of North Carolina of North Carolina at Chapel Hill where this societal tradition was longstanding. One only has to look at past Chancellor William Friday as the model. When I began playing my first paying “society” gigs, I quickly learned these were the people for whom you would be playing to make money. They had the money and could afford to use a live band. There was a formula involved musically, and it took my bass playing-friend and I a few jobs to learn it. He is now the Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences at UNC. It seems that societal way of life for him was appropriate. I on the other hand learned the formula, played the game, but rebelled against the faction of people that had money. I did this because growing up in Fayetteville, I went to church with this same group of wealthy elite. Their children were delinquents who knew nothing more than to drink, smoke, and behave badly. We did not get along well with them, because we were disciplined middle class students working on a variety tasks. We sang in the Episcopal church Youth Choir. I played the trumpet at almost every Christmas Eve and Easter church service. I was taking piano lessons. There was a variety of things around to keep us occupied. These children were neglected by their “mover and shaker” parents, because they were out making the money. I didn’t like their familial model, and their parents were stuffy and conceited. Playing good music for them went a long way in bridging the gap, and I came to understand and appreciate society. Today I must reject its traditions, because it is based upon the sacrament of marriage. I am not married, so playing music for couples about love is difficult for me. It is a challenge to feel feelings that don’t apply to you. As in the case of most love-themed music, there is a great deal of heartache and heartbreak. I have only had that once in my life, but the time I did was sufficiently strong enough to @#$% me up for almost four years. That is why I went to Ohio State University to pursue my doctorate. I was at a loss for what to do next. I siphoned all that misplaced love into music fully and whole-heartedly. It was not until four years later I was able to move on. It required an emotional profile that changed. I had to dispense with that Southern model of society and become more progressive. That antiquated model is quite capable of providing severe disappointment when one does not fit in with the preexisting society. Not everyone is meant to own a “trophy wife” and say things like, “Yes Jim, would you like to go to the country club and play golf?” leaving your job at midday. To survive the disappointment you do not have these things, you must become rebellious against them based on the reason they are inappropriate for the average person. Simply that is what makes society elite. There are only a privileged few that are worthy of being part of the club. As in the case of SLC Punk you must start your own club. Living in Fayetteville between cruise ship contracts is difficult, because this is that model. At age 44 and being single, there isn’t much to fit in with. My parents ask me why I have no friends here. It is because I graduated from high school in l981, twenty-six years ago. I have lived with them on and off during that period, but not long enough to make any new friends my age. People suggest you go to singles parties at local churches, but what could be more humiliating that broadcasting to the world you are desperate? The Midwest, while it was not a simple transition, offered me a new identity and emotional profile that left the dangerous components of loss of love clearly in the dust. I learned how to have love in an empowering way with none of the doughboy weaknesses that are so evident in the American south. Those emotions are what create Southern hospitality, but at the same time they can ruin you when you do not fit into its strict requirements for life. While the role model of a southern gentleman doesn’t seem unsavory, and it is ensconced rather deeply in my soul, it no longer serves my purpose. I am empty-handed in Southern society. Its tradition has left me alone. When observing that anachronistic model the spineless manipulators of the law seem worthy only of being part of their own boys club. “Can you being me a mint julep while I bribe this judge?” That way of life is is so incredibly selfish, burrowed deep in plantation land hiding from the rest of the world behind Spanish moss laden oak trees and bayou swamp water. “Would you like a cold class of ice tea on your front porch?” The gentil demeanor, weak speech, and worse a weak face suggest homosexuality. It was only recently that the shock of an existence of well-to-do gay society men jolted my existence. These men have power, because they have money. Their obtuse sexuality is empowered by their place in society. Only the money they make could be attractive to a woman. It seems appropriate Max Cady pulled the wool over his counselor’s eyes and taught him a lesson by trying to screwing both his wife and his daughter. In this age you better have passion for what you want, and that means straight men better step up to the plate and begin rejuvenating heterosexuality in America. Let’s dispense with the “Ninja Sluts” and bring back the traditional role model of a sexy woman with vulnerability. Where have all the Marilyns gone? I guess they are all in re-hab. Maybe if they were getting screwed by real men they wouldn’t end up drunk and in jail. “Keep it gay, keep it gay, keep it gay!” Not. “Keep it straight, keep it straight, keep it straight.” Seven brides for seven brothers is the model. Who would think the home of the 82nd Airborne would carry such feminine overtones? “Don’t ask, don’t tell?” While Bill Clinton’s policy may work in the military, the idea of hundreds of men going down on each other on a long C-130 flight to Iraq is disturbing.

O.C.C

It’s funny how symbiotic the United States is. Nothing goes unnoticed. What? Does that mean all those new telephone poles laced with electricity, cable-vision, and telephone have built in Big Brother devices that constantly monitor your personal activity? What would be so appealing about your personal life that could interest the federal government? It seems John Lennon was on the “list” for surveillance, before he was murdered by Mark David Chapman. He was considered a political malcontent, and with an entity like the "Electoral College" power hung in a balance. The transfer of power of Orange County Choppers from The Discovery Channel to The Learning Channel seems to have had a rocky transition. The transformation from “artistry” to “entertainment” never will be a smooth one. Musica Reservata best describes this event, where the needs of the masses exceed the artistic ideals of the few. “That’s Entertainment,” or so we are supposed to believe. That is, “Shuckin’ and Jivin’,” or “Smoke and Mirrors.” The most recent episode of “OCC” documents that process clearly. The “end” circumvents the “means.” The bike has all ready been built, just as Emeril’s casserole has all ready been baked. If compassion, true feeling for the audience, and humanity have been included in the pre-conceived production then the contrived performance will transcend barriers and meet the producer’s and fan’s needs. Is it appropriate to fabricate a mock crowd-produced bike, when in reality the bike has all ready been made in the name of “good entertainment”? In the case of OCC the Paul’s had enough heart and love of their discipline to transcend the “entertainment requirements” superimposed by Simon Cowell. The crowd was not as humane as the one in Europe. They seemed only to want to have a good time. “Was it infatuation?” Evidently the formula worked. Give away a well-built chopper? Prince is doing it. So did drug dealers in the James Bond movies. Giving away a product kills the competition, because prices fall like the Dow Jones did today. We must quit using “smoke and mirrors” to fund the infrastructure of the United States.

The Illustrious Mr. Potter

Most jazz fans know Chris Potter. Whence did the wonder boy come? While I was teaching at the University of South Carolina and playing second trumpet in the USC Left Bank Band, there was a kid playing lead tenor. It seems it was Chris Potter. He was maybe 13 at the time. Rumor had it he picked up an alto saxophone and a few short months later he was playing like Bird. Chris, unlike most of the students in the band, all ready was a seasoned musician and improviser. Talent like that knows no boundaries for key signatures, transpositions, and playing in various styles. There is just something there that allows him to do all those things. After I started my own Jazz/Fusion band, Chris was the only logical choice to play saxophone. I was writing all my own tunes, and they were not always easy for the tenor player. I wrote with different grooves and in different tonal centers. Chris was the only one that could handle the material and make it musical. I’m not sure he enjoyed playing in the band that much, but he did it. His father would drive him around, even when he was sick. We played the Main Street Jazz Festival, the Harbison Jazz Series, and the variety of clubs in Columbia. Chris was under the tutelage of Dr. John Emche, who was the Coordinator of Jazz Studies at USC. He had gotten his doctorate in composition at Ohio State, and that is the sole reason I went there later. John could play good-feeling jazz piano. He was personable, laid-back, and everyone liked him. He was the perfect example of what major universities want in their professors. There is a considerable degree of personality involved with being a jazz instructor. He had a great influence on Chris, and his mentoring I’m sure helped Chris become the player he is today. I entered my band Quintessence in the Hennessy Cognac Jazz Search. We had to have a studio recording, so I paid the guys to go into Eddie Wooten’s house and record three of my tunes. I sent the tape to Hennessy, and a few weeks later I got a call from an elated women wanting us to travel to New Orleans and compete with Doc Severinsen as a judge at Storyville. We went and won and later flew to California to compete in the finals for an appearance at the Playboy Jazz Festival. Our Jazz/Fusion mix did not sit well with the mostly Hennessy- employed patrons at the competition. Also we had to perform first, because our bassist had a fear of flying and had to make his train. That hurt us, and we lost to a very entertaining straight-ahead jazz group from the area. I knew instinctively that this was the time to record an album. I arranged six more tunes and brought the guys back into the studio. It, like most studio work, was a hassle. Eddie’s parent’s house smelled like burnt pot roast. His dad would often wander into the living room and interrupt our sessions, but Eddie had an accurately equalized control room. I knew our final mix would be right on, so it was worth putting up with the hassle. It took about 2 years and 5 grand to finish the recording, of which I am extremely proud. It was completed in l991, so at sixteen it is an interesting representation of Chris Potter's playing at age fifteen. Our rhythm section in particular played well on Crystal Raindrops, and the tunes are all varied and unique in groove. One day maybe the world will get to hear it.

The EMF Spectrum: Physics

Bad things are happening in the electromagnetic spectrum. While we as a world have tried diligently to circumvent the use of nuclear weapons because of their dire effects on the human body, it seems we are blind to other more subtle effects of overuse of the electromagnetic spectrum. What possible phenomenon could cause the most dangerous form of skin cancer, melanoma, to rise 40% in the last decade? The destruction of the O-Zone layer over the South Pole by the United States Navy may have something to do with it. It hasn’t been proven that the newest 40% of people contracting melanoma lived at the South Pole. Why has the sun not caused this damage before now? Has our food, water, and air supply suddenly become tainted with toxic chemicals causing skin cancer? There is a simple answer to this question which to the human eye is invisible. When something is invisible it tends to be represented by the phrase, “out of sight, our of mind.” It is due time the Environmental Protection Agency took notice since the FCC continues to loosen its regulations on the “licensed for communication” bands of the electromagnetic spectrum. When microwave ovens first came out people speculated they might not be healthy for our food. What effect does electromagnetic radiation have on human tissue? Crank up the frequency to gamma levels and/or take a look at the film footage of the United States’ dropping the bomb on both Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The body simply melts from the heat. There were accounts that said living human beings had nothing but blobs of flesh for heads. There were no orifices, because the soft tissues just melted. Although radio and television signals seem not to have created dire consequences for the human race, it may be prudent for the EPA to take more action monitoring and regulating electromagnetic emissions. Luckily a court in California ruled against the United States’ Navy’s mid frequency SONAR systems. They have been proven to disoriented and beach certain species of whale. The decibel levels the Navy was using certainly could cause harm to marine life, considering sound travels faster through water than through air. If there has been a 40% rise in skin cancer in only the last decade, then one must look at things that have been put into place that were not there a decade ago. One obvious choice is the “wireless communications industry.” With every new product that comes onto the market, there is more electromagnetic energy being transmitted through our air. I haven’t studied physics to know if electromagnetic waves can exist in a vacuum without air or other gases. I assume they can, but we as human beings must share our air with these waves. One thing that clearly suggests bad things are happening in the spectrum is HOW the world looks today. Digital media has changed the way things look because of less use of analog recording media. Does digital photography look as good as tradition film-based photography? Is digital video as aesthetically pleasing as celluloid film? Analog media smears frequencies of sound and image causing them to mix in a way that is pleasing to the eyes and ears. The recording industry found out the hard way upping the resolution of recording systems and eliminating ambient sound produced stark sound that may not be as pleasing to the human ear. How has a similar process occurred in the electromagnetic spectrum? If we are using more and more frequencies that once were deemed inappropriate for use by the FCC, it stands to reason the modulation of these frequencies by one another could be producing ill effects. I feel the world does not look the say it did ten years ago, because the visible spectrum of light is being subtly modulated by other frequencies of the electromagnetic spectrum. Things look more harsh to me, like the result of the bleaching effect used on the film in the sci-fi movie Pitch Black. The once vibrant and pleasing hues found in mother nature are being suitably effected by invisible electromagnetic pollution. This could also account for the 40% rise in melanoma levels in the last ten years. Pundits always have said with substantial medical documentation, electromagnetic energy is not good for human tissue. I bought a case study from the government on low frequency radio wave pollution, and it clearly showed damage to human beings at the cellular level. Because hydrofluorocarbon emissions have not risen that dramatically in the last decade, there must be some other reason these adverse things are happening. Since the advent of the OBDll emissions test for automobiles, the automobile industry has lessened their emissions in the environment. Seeing as I have to spend hundreds of dollars each year to pass my vehicle inspection because of this test, something good must be resulting. Evaporating fuel vapors are being trapped by a charcoal canister later to be injected into your automobile’s intake manifold improving gas mileage. How could it be that the decade of the 70’s did not document more ill health effects when the catalytic converter did not even exist? While I believe the burning of fossil fuels is not good for the environment, I do not think they are the sole cause of Global Warming. Electromagnetic radiation by definition produces as much heat, and it is clear more frequencies of the electromagnetic spectrum are being used than ever before with very little regulation from the FCC.

P.S. Wikipedia: Radio Transmitters- "a broadcast transmitter with a megawatt power stage transferring 98% of that into the antenna can also be viewed as a 20 kilowatt electric heater."

Old School Bluegrass

Kudos to Steve Martin and the “Old School” for a offering a three banjo stew of native Bluegrass soul. It was evident the tenacity of “Old School” would beat down the annoying optimism of “New School” pop. Some things are meant to endure, and Martin’s talent on the instrument along with his low brow and unassuming humor are what have made him a tradition in American film. Let’s hear more whence his David Letterman performance came and from those hearty musicians.

The Producers

While it may disturb some future appreciators of Mel Brooks’ Broadway musical and fairly recent movie, the “gay” factor does provide one level of intimate communication lost in today’s America. You must give credit where credit is due, and not a “credi’ repor’” as the annoying commercial says. Just because you have a speech impediment doesn’t mean you should be on television. A good C-R-E-D-I-T R-E-P-O-R-T should be given to Nathan Lane, Matthew Broderick, and Mel Brooks for producing The Producers. While being gay doesn’t necessarily represent mainstream America, the energy, heart, and sheer bravura of The Producers places it in a class worthy of receiving the 12 or so Toni Awards it did. In this age of “pop” anything that remotely resembles artistry in music and/or theater should be rewarded. I have been studying The Producers since I bought the DVD. Unfortunately I have not seen the Broadway play. Did it close? After buying the documentary of the recording process for the Broadway soundtrack, it seems evident there were some major changes from the play to the movie. Two notable characters were different in the movie. The addition of Will Ferrell and Uma Thurman was successful in my eyes. Why they replaced the original Broadway actors is your guess. Box office draw? The documentary exposing the recording process of the Broadway soundtrack was enlightening. It was evident there were melancholic overtones concerning the play, but upon reading about the differences that is understandable. They, the producers, chose to lighten up the musical for film. It is after all, like a cruise, only a musical. There is no need to bring the seriousness of opera to celluloid. This seems to be a common conundrum in modern entertainment. How much soul should the product have? As in the case of skateboarding, it could be extrapolated that the “New School” could be “pop,” and “Old School” could be rock. That itself is confusing, because with grace and eloquence comes extreme power. When one possesses knowledge of the end, then the means is dictated by the mind as with the book The Inner Game of Tennis. “New School” may not understand the end, because they have never been exposed to “Old School.” The Producers is an “Old School” musical, because it is based upon Mel Brooks’ favorite genre of film R.K.O. l933-1938. Top Hat, Grand Illusion, and Shall We Dance are the movie musicals he lists as his favorites in a depression laden America. With these worthy models Brooks is empowered, and finally his many years in the movie business are rewarded. The Producers is transcendent, because its form is based upon tried and true models. Brooks’ songs quintessentially capture the exact feelings of the characters in the original movie. This is an almost uncanny feat even in light of the Count Basie Orchestra playing in a desert. Brooks’ somehow penned a collection of tunes that will defy time and become standards. It only will be a matter of time and copyright agreement that artists will being re-recording these songs. Nathan Lane and Ferris Bueller uncannily create a chemistry both gay and straight that effectively disguises those boundaries. Their relationship goes beyond gender and approaches the severity and desperation of the human race. A friend is indispensable more so than a lover. It is apparent in the movie Matthew Broderick, while still possessing the ultra-cool characteristics of Ferris Bueller, was well-trained in musical theater. His father was James Broderick, the father on the television series Family that aired in the late 70’s. Who ever knew Ferris could croon? Even with its gay overtones, The Producers speaks to the heart and delivers Hollywood Golden Era musical entertainment unlike anything we see today. They should be applauded for showing the relevance of “Old School.” It is not passé to feel something familiar, when “pop” suggests we are at the mercy of the wind.

Lydia, the Bronx Woman

Lydia was from Rochester. She was Yankee. After dating a Southern girl for seven years it was refreshing to be with someone from New York. She, like the stereotypical Bronx-born girl, talked up front. There were no shy debutante mannerisms. She liked to have a good time, so she was always planning trips. My first venture to Manhattan was with Lydia our senior year of college. I was constipated most of the time, but she enjoyed the trip. We had Chinese food. We stayed with a music student friend of hers in a studio apartment. We stayed with a family in Brooklyn. They had a trundle bed upon which I was supposed to sleep, whilst Lydia slept above on the real bed. Unlike Gena Lydia didn’t mind having sex when there were other people around. I tried that a few times with Gena, but she was shy about that. We went on a trip to the beach once to visit my sister and brother-in-law. It was late at night and there was no one in the pool. I wanted to fool around in the water like Chevy Chase with Christy Brinkley in the movie Vacation. She would have nothing to do with it. I never told her this sexual reluctance was the reason why we broke up. I loved Gena, but we didn’t have the animal chemistry necessary to make the relationship endure. I enjoyed having sex with her, because she was beautiful, tall, and blond. I needed something more from her, because the relationship was becoming a burden. From the beginning I had treated her like a princess. I knew from past experience how to treat a woman well. Because I was a Graduate Teaching Associate, was playing gigs in the city, and writing original music I had a reputation. Those were the good days. That particular period of time still is troubling. It was the 80’s. The American people lived differently during that decade, as seen in any John Hughes movie. What is interesting is how different we as a country are now. There was a different feeling then, and after 9/11 it is difficult to justify that way of life. There were comedy clubs. There was live music. There, for musicians, was the prospect of “making it big.” I was struggling back then to gain notoriety through jazz/fusion music. I often wonder if this was a self-created neurosis. After losing my adjunct teaching job at the University of South Carolina I had a nervous breakdown. I didn’t know what it was back then, but it appeared as depression. For the first time in seven years I had no academic career. The prestige that accompanies a college teaching position disappeared. I became a local band flunky like everyone else, and as a result Gena did not treat me the same way. It is interesting that to keep a woman’s interest you have to be Superman. I since going through puberty have spent the majority of my time satisfying these requirements. As a result my rewards in the field of music were not as great as they should have been. I had always had a girlfriend, and that was my priority in life. The “look,” the “things-to-do-list,” money, wit, and humor are all necessary in keeping the interest of a woman. What you receive in return for this monumental effort is intimacy, which is necessary for your survival until you learn how to live without it. It was not until later in life I made the decision never to be dependant upon a woman again. If a nervous breakdown is that reward you receive for losing your job and a woman, then it is not worth it. It is difficult enough to handle a break-up resulting in loss, but it is important to go through that process because it educates us about the bereavement process. Bereavement is grieving over the loss of a loved one. Stack clinical depression on top of that process and you have a formula for misery, and not the Stephen King movie. I didn’t understand what was happening at the time, because your brain just shuts down. If you have lived the majority of your adult life based upon instinct, then you may have a difficult time also. You, to be truly self-actualized, must use your brain to control you life, not your emotions and instincts. If you are having fulfilling sex, that can be a good catalyst for instinctual creativity. That is how I operated in Graduate School during the 80’s. I spent two years teaching at a university to earn a Master’s degree in Music, yet I learned very little. I guess that is why they hire you as a TA, because you all ready possess the skills and knowledge to be successful in your vocation. If you spend all your time moving your knowledge to the minds of students, then there is little time left for the acquirement of new knowledge. That is the beauty of the doctoral program, especially when you are not teaching. Teaching music theory at Ohio State University, as stated by a post D.M.A female friend, was grading papers. Somehow I circumvented that responsibility, because the chairman of Theory/Composition thought I was too dynamic for the staid existence of a music theory TA. I was given the job of TA for Arts College 160, which in essence was being a glorified “hall monitor” for the two hundred plus kids enrolled in the course. I did have four recitation classes a week. My lovely cooperating professor saw fit to give me all four of those in a series beginning at eight o’clock on Monday morning. The clincher was what you taught had nothing to do with for what the students were responsible for the tests. They saw the recitation as an unnecessary burden. I was peeved, because I didn’t have my own class like I did at USC as a well-respected teacher of jazz. It took most of the academic year for me to learn the material for which the students were responsible. By that time I all ready had made the fatal mistake of letting my Southern hillbilly roots taint my teaching. I had never dealt with photographer Robert Mapplethorpe, and my inexperience with probably the most controversial artist of our century sealed my fate as a TA for Arts College 160. On a handout I asked what were called “leading” questions. I had phrased then in such a way driven by my own opinion to persuade the students to agree with my point of view. As we all know today this is unacceptable in the public classroom. You can not call George W. Bush Jr. a Nazi. You must present the information arbitrarily. I had never seen a bull whip stuck in a man’s ass, and I didn’t see the artistic merit in a photo of that sort. I was an artist, and to me my opinion was worth while. Fifteen years later finally I have acquired the wisdom and political savvy necessary to survive in academia. I have also solidified my choice as an independent scholar. An incubation period working in ‘real life’ has been indispensable. My question about Mapplethorpe was simply that his photograph of an African-American man sitting with a large erect penis reinforced a stereotype that black men have bigger dicks. In the American South this had always been comical, but at OSU in the Midwest the students didn’t take to kindly to my negative opinion. Who was I anyway compared to the illustrious Mr. Mapplethorpe? It turns out most of my female students liked looking at the penises of homosexual men. My opinion was it was not appropriate for a college level course, and we had no business discussing it. The controversial nature of his work was the sole reason why we had to present it, and because the Department of Art procrastinated informing me whether or not I had the position, I had no time to research and study the predicament. There were less than two weeks left before the start of the autumn quarter, and I was pursuing a doctorate in music composition, not modern art. While I regretted losing the financial support of the job, I didn’t miss being a lacky TA. This didn’t seal my fate in not finishing the D.M.A. degree. Keratoconus did. I had to stop going to school to have cornea transplants in both my eyes. After than I needed to be making money, so I began playing music professionally in Columbus. After a few years doing that and botching my one and only college level job interview, I began working for the cruise lines. I was disconnected from academia for a few years, because I had been working independently. I was extremely musically productive during this period, but my skills as an academic had suffered. Went I went to Cullowhee, North Carolina to interview I did not sleep well. The room I had been assigned in which to dwell was full of “hum.” I had hoped the Appalachian Mountains of North Carolina would provide solstice from the aggravating hum sound some Americans had been talking about. It turns out the paper mill and accompanying Norfolk/Southern trunk line were operating in full force. I tried to sleep on the floor because the mattress was sympathetically vibrating, but I never did fall asleep the few days I was there. As a result I was sleep deprived, which we all know is one of the most severe forms of torture. I was in no mood to tell jokes and be affable, so I just conveyed the information. It was more important to this little school to have a pleasant personality. The chairman of the department also failed to convey to me he was the “Composer in Residence” at Western Carolina University. The job for which I was interviewing was responsible for four classes. They were sight singing, the MIDI Studio, Jazz Ensemble, and Contemporary Music Theory. Although I disagree with the process of solfege in sight singing, I could have taught the course. Before I began the interview I was faced with a decision. Do I humor the committee or do I get the job done? I chose the latter, and it didn’t sit well with the committee. I supposed to Dr. John West I was unqualified to teach at their high school. In reality my discussion of George Russell’s Lydian Chromatic Concept was so far above the level of their perspective students, it was appropriate I didn’t get the job. Plus there was a salary cap at WCU. You started at forty thousand a year and would end that way thirty years later. The only way you could receive the minute raise was to procure an offer from another school. That would mean many hours spent away from your teaching job soliciting jobs at other universities. The capper to it all was when the Chairmen of the Department of Music said, “We don’t go for that bleep bloop music here.” They didn’t even have a Master’s degree in composition much less a doctoral program. The colloquial elements of a small town school in the North Carolina mountains were enough to extinguish my further pursuit of academic jobs. Luckily the cruise lines offer a variety of employment for competent musicians, and completing all the coursework for a Doctoral of Music Arts in Composition gives you the tools necessary to navigate the cruise industry’s cumbersome and clunky music notation. The experience of working on a cruise ship as a musician in no was reflects any tenant of my pre-doctoral graduate work. That period of short-lived musical prestige can be considered a child-like dream state not representative of the real life pursuit of music. That is why I don’t mind not having a girlfriend or wife. That would force me into the antiquated, dilapidated, and anachronistic notion that the American Dream still exists and you must follow that path. The reality is being a greeter at WalMart. I still compose music, because it is the right thing to do. I don’t care if academia, a record company, or Uncle Sam ever hears it. I know after I die someone will discover my music and it will be appreciated posthumously. It is easier to believe this notion than deal with the idea you are a failure in the field of music at the hands of those incapable of valuing music. I know what art is, and my music is art. It represents the life I am not living in America, so I must create it myself. The unfortunate thing about that is exactly what one Polish musician said to me on a ship. “My feelings are only for my music, Heir Mozart!” He of course was joking, but the crux of that statement if true. You have choices. You can invest your emotions in people upon which you do not know you can rely, or you can invest your emotional life in the arts. I know if with my mind I can create a feeling then that which is translated into music, I will have that emotion captured forever like poetry. You can not rely upon a human being for that. This musician was suggesting I was cloistering my feelings in solidarity instead of sharing them with friends. You probably know best when it is appropriate to invest your feelings. With Lydia I loved her, but I was not in love with her. I enjoyed her company, and we made love, yet still I did not love her. This she knew instinctively. She worked hard in bed and was a good lover, but in this case our emotional profiles did not match. Lydia lived in a campus house that was very popular. There were three other women living there too, and that made for a festive atmosphere of which I enjoyed immensely. We made love in her single bed each night, and that didn’t seem to effect anyone else in the house. We were seasoned lovers, and they even made fun of us one Sunday morning when we stayed locked in her room for most of the afternoon making love on the floor. Gena came about a year later. She was inexperienced and damaged goods. That is why I was attracted to her. She was sitting by herself at a band party not fitting into the preexistent social click. It was not easy getting her to talk, but I tried anyway. Was it like the spider and the fly? I had to work on her a month or so, before I could even bring up the idea of making love. I waited until I was going to a gig, and as she lay on the couch I whispered it in her ear, “ I want to make love to you.” Then I left. She had reservations about her own body, but with some coaching I was finally able to get her to submit. The oddest and most surprising thing she ever did was, upon arriving in Columbia home after a school fashion outing in New York city, she gave me a miniature mock fashion show. She announced her clothing and stripped in front of me as I sat on the couch. Needless to say that was enough of a clue of what she really wanted. I took her on the living room floor. One evening later on that same red couch and as we were watching television, I just pulled down my pants exposing my erect penis. For a total of two times in our relationship this being one, she bolted out of my easy chair, down to her knees, and began sucking my penis. It lasted only a few seconds just like the second time. We were staying at her parent’s home in South Carolina. We were both up late, and I was sitting watching television in my boxers. She was asleep on the floor. Slowly and nonchalantly she inched over, until she was in between my legs. Suddenly and unexpectedly she fished out my erect penis in one graceful movement and put it in her mouth. Again this lasted only a few seconds. What was it about a few seconds? What good does that serve? I guess it was supposed to be the precursor to a conversation about giving me a blowjob, because later she asked me if I were going to ask her to give me one. I just kind of expected it, and as a result didn’t get it. I treated Gena like a princess, and that must have been queer to her. Instead of being manly I made her feel like a goddess, and that must have been an insurmountable responsibility. You can’t expect average women to know how to treat a man well. It takes an adult woman to know about the art of love. That unfortunately is why you have to treat them like shit. They like it, because there is no responsibility for them to treat you well. They don’t know how. They respond more effectively to statements such as, “Go fix some supper, bitch,” and “Suck my cock.” I even had one that wanted you to throw her around. I just didn’t know how to do that yet, and this was when the crime of “date rape” was being invented. Force a woman to have sex with you? What a common fantasy for many people that has S&M overtones. It’s the big bad wolf. The U.S. legal system has ruined that prospect. Just like you can make a million from a spilled cup of coffee, better stay away from that sexual harassment. In some cases aggression is what is needed sexually to effect the recipient. Cave man say ,“Come back to cave and @#$%^ me!” It worked in that era. Are we so different now?

Sex, Drugs, and...

My second girlfriend came in college. After seven years of dating the same person, it became a necessity to have someone, anyone! I’ll never forget how difficult it was to realize the work it was going to take to get some arse. It takes you out of your comfort zone. You have to be aggressive. There is no room for doubt. There is no room for failure. “Seek and conquer” as the cave men must have known. Please remember this was before the advent of “Date Rape.” This was the 80’s. This was an era where there was more beer consumed per capita in Chapel Hill, North Carolina than anywhere in the entire country. People on the “Hill” were serious about their beer consumption. It was not that different on most college campuses. Unfortunately past Governor Jim Hunt stopped that. He was trying to stop DUI fatalities which later became DWI’s. What’s the difference? An acronym is an acronym even with PC. Driving Under the Influence. Driving While Impaired. Changing the name of the law isn’t going to effect it’s perpetrators. What did though was it’s consequences. Once in the United States you could drive with an open beer. After Jim Hunt became governor you went to jail for getting stopped for a DUI. Jail! That is a stark contrast to what was happening before. Hunt raised the legal drinking age. In North Carolina you could drink beer and wine at age 18. That seems reasonable seeing as you can get carted off to war at that age. Die for your country, drink a beer. Governor Hunt changed that and made the legal age 21 for everything. That bit of legislation changed the 80’s forever. You could no longer drink freely and recreationally like hundreds of thousands of students had been doing at UNC for decades. Bars and clubs could not get the same patrons. In Fayetteville they even went as far as making all bars membership only if they sold less food than alcohol. That meant on a burning hot summer day you could not walk into a bar and buy cold suds unless the establishment set up a kitchen and sold more than 50% food. Mom and Pop bar owner were out of business. Imagine not being able to walk into a pub and have a cold beer without the auspices of a restaurateur. Some folk don’t want a restaurant like the people in Scotland and England. What is going to happen to all those pub owners when the people realize they can’t smoke? Unconstitutional? Great Britain doesn’t adhere to the U.S. Constitution. We forged this country to get out from under the tyrannical rule of the British replete with their conservative values. Still smoking is being outlawed on a massive level infringing upon the freedom of the American people. If private businesses are going to be choked financially by government, then the people eventually will turn to their private homes. If business is the way that freedom is going to be curtailed, then the people surely will unite and do what they like to do anyway. Who cares if there isn’t money exchanging hands under the scrutiny of Uncle Sam. Oh, this is called Socialism! Peoples' needs and desires are met in a humanistic way. This makes them happy. They endure. So what if there is no Coca Cola, chocolate, and bubble gum as the movies depict? The Russians had vodka, and it went a long way in keeping the people happy in the midst of bitter cold, food shortages, and poverty. If your government provides the basic things people need to be happy, then commerce isn’t necessary unless you want to be the next gadzillionaire. What would you do with all that money? Free coffee. Free clean and nutritious drinking water. Free booze. Let the good times roll! In that era the American people knew it took something other than real life to provide good times, because the bitter reality of survival was not that far away at any moment. Remember the Indians, our Native Americans? Remember the Lost Colony? Plague, famine, and freezing? It seems the Republicans know nothing of this. It seems millions of dollars is all it takes to feel good. The memory that you will never be wanting is enough to keep your pleasure center titillated. For the rest of us, we need anodynes. An anodyne is something that deadens suffering. Sex is an anodyne. Crystal Meth is an anodyne. Crack is an anodyne. Cigarettes are an anodyne. Alcohol is an anodyne. Most people are not happy, so it take a little work to feel good. The Republican party is not making that easy. Black people know how to feel good. They listen to good music. They drink a couple of 40’s in a brown paper bag. They dance to Hip/Hop music. Basics like jazz. The internet and video games have become the newest drugs. Television with its Reality programming and shock nightmaria certainly isn’t an anodyne. Who feels good when watching people scream at each other? Sex may be the best anodyne of all, and I had to have it. It was time. I picked up the phone and called a girl. I asked her to see a play at our college. We went and had a good time. A week later we were having good sex. It makes you happy. It completes you. It reinforces our most basic but integral animal desires. It is Sigmund Freud. Crack and Meth are not good drugs, but the American people deserve to feel good. With our polluted environment, diesel trains blasting away 24/7, aircraft patrolling our blue sky, and little clean air to breathe, drugs become a must.

The President Elect

When Americans venture to the polls in November if 2008, the future of the United States is at stake. While it was gratifying to see our youth population rally recently and vote the Democrats back into power in the House and Senate, the presidential election of 2008 is more important. It is unfortunate such a limited amount of candidates are available. What are we looking for as a president? One primary characteristic that seems to be important to the American people is looking “presidential”. There is a norm here, and politically savvy candidates should be aware of it. J.F.K. was unsuccessful in his early years vying for election, because he did not look the part. It was not until he began taking drugs his emaciated body expanded making him look “more presidential.” The people tend to want a man who looks fit, although we know from history this has nothing to do with being an effective president. It looks good on television. A black suit and a red “power tie” complete the package. Debonair graying hair is a plus combed neatly in a short doo. Bill Clinton had these characteristics and successfully used them in his campaign. The President should be a good speaker, because in times of distress he can unite the people in a common cause. He can also rally the people to action, although in this day and age politicians need no part of the American people. This was John F. Kennedy’s strong suit. He was an intelligent man with little small talk like Richard Nixon. Although he was from an affluent and politically influential family, he was educated. Speaking from the heart about issues one has studied in school and learned about in real life politics is effective in earning the voters’ trust. The current process of a political party devising characteristics for the would be president based upon polls will no longer suffice. If the American people wanted a man that looks nice in a suit, holds hands with his wife, goes to church on Sunday, and has reared children, then they may be suitably disappointed by their president’s qualifications to do the job. One thing that James Carvel continually said about Bill Clinton was he was always up in the morning to “do the job.” Let me repeat that. “Do the job.” Being president is a job. It is a political office that is elected by the American people, but it is not just to be a figure head as in the case of George Bush Jr. We have found out the difficult way George was unqualified for the job of President. Why was that? It is because to be a truly effective president one has to be an intellectual. George would be more comfortable running a ranch in Texas. What is an intellectual? An intellectual is one that reads, thinks, and continues to learn in life. There is no comfort level. Everyday you are faced with a different set of problems that must be solved. Without intellectual knowledge this is not possible. An intellectual has wisdom. Wisdom is the effective use of knowledge. One must have had many experiences at different ages to become wise. This is the definition of education. Education differs from schooling in that it comes from wisdom obtained from real life experiences. If you experience something and fail, you are more likely to amend the process to complete the task successfully. That is the philosophy behind letting a child burn his finger on a hot stove. When they experience pain, it will literally burn a memory in their soul that will guide them in the future. Schooling attempts to teach a series of lessons that attempt to bring about successful results without necessarily having had the true life experiences. Both processes are necessary in a well-rounded president. An intellectual best can be represented by an academic. Academics are required to publish. That means they must stay on top of their game. An academic can also be called an ” independent scholar.” Madeline Albright was an academic making her well qualified for the position of Secretary of State. Condoleezza Rice is also an academic having been a Dean many years. Diplomacy is another characteristic needed to be an effective president. Kofi Annan, the former Secretary General of the United Nations, was an effective diplomat. A diplomat knows how to talk to people peacefully to solve world problems. Washington or the beltway has evolved into a playground for Democrats and Republicans. It has reduced politics in the United States to bargaining between two major parties. When these parties become divided and unwilling to yield in their opinions, we have what we have now in politics, a stalemate. They are stymied. America needs to replace this group of antiquated men and begin anew with a fresh batch of intellectuals. Looking at the current group of presidential hopefuls who best qualifies as an academic, a diplomat, an effective speaker, and looks presidential? Colloquialism hurts a candidate. When men and women speak in a dialect, they alienate people from varying regions of the United States. There was a Civil War in America’s past, and sentiments of the division between North and South still exist. Speaking like a Southerner or a Yankee may isolate a particular candidate. That has been proven in electoral history. Phil Gram may be the best example. Speaking relies upon the proper use of the English language. American English is a dialect of the King’s English. While many Americans may not enjoy hearing a British accent, William Shakespeare can be considered the best writing example of the King’s English. Grammar and usage are necessary. Slang is taboo. Catch phrases or “sound bites” are also unacceptable. Nicknames are inappropriate. Only if the ADHD of the country has become so severe would these things be necessary. Presidents merely are men, so they desserve forgiveness. One should look at a President’s record of achievement and decide accordingly if their mistakes merit forgiveness. Impeaching a President Bill Clinton for infidelity was improper, because his private life is and should have been separate from his professional life. For the Rebublican Party to make a generalization about the president’s professional ability based upon infidelity is ridiculous. Many president’s had highly publicized extramarital affairs including John F. Kennedy. In a situation such as his who better than his cuckold wife could want her husband dead, especially if he had sex with America’s greatest sex symbol in tghe public eye? Bill Clinton’s record of efficiency in the presidency should have served as his reputation, not the media-produced spectacle, “That woman Ms. Lewinsky.” Likewise Richard Nixon’s ending of the Vietnam War also should be remembered moreso than the Watergate Scandal. He unlike George Jr. resigned the presidency. Life and politics are a compromise, and the most effective candidates know this. CEO's ike attorneys are not necessarily the best choices as political leaders. Is running the United States like running a corporation? One could say so only in the case of a successful company in the public’s eye. Lee Ioacca is an example of this. Former Secretary of the Treasury John Snow at one time was CEO of more than one major corporation at the same time, yet he was ineffective in that position. The president should be interested in government, of which there are many forms. Knowledge of other systems of government is enlightening. As we as a young country are learning today, the United States is the new kid on the block. How we rose to a world superpower in a few centuries is perplexing. It is being proven on a daily basis in Washington, spoiled rich children are not qualified to run the country. Our founding fathers earned this right considering the multitude of strife they survived to win independence from Great Britain. The ideals of the country were never far from mind. Today one must search long and hard to find any recollection of what America stands.

Allah and the Judge

When Americans venture to the polls in November of 2008, for whom are they likely to vote? The most amazing magic act in America’s history, the election of George Bush Jr., was devised by the Republican party. Unlike many other countries that favor occupations other than law of their elected officials, America’s government mostly is comprised of attorneys. Attorneys are more qualified than other professionals to manipulate the legal system, because this is the basis of their job. Attorneys, if they are to succeed in their profession, must be savvy in politics and law. Politics is a major component of the judicial system, because attorneys must mastermind plea bargains with sitting court judges. It is in their best interest to know something about whom they are relying upon for favorable decisions. With this in mind, are attorneys the best choice as leaders and legislators of our country? When Appellate Court Judge Samuel Alito was in the process of being confirmed for his nomination to the Supreme Court, his hearings were broadcast publicly. Upon watching these it was instantly clear what his thought process was. Lawyers, after they become judges, still use the law and its history to make decisions. If the law has become corrupt what process upon which are they going to rely to make difficult moral and ethical decisions? When the law no longer serves as the base upon which to render just decisions, whence will they come? It seems the separation of church and state in this situation may not be appropriate. If a justice cannot rely upon a higher power for spiritual guidance, then we as Americans are at the mercy of man. We all know of what man is capable. Sodom and Gomorrah was destroyed by hellfire and brimstone sent from God as penitence for man’s sins. When a country systematically attempts to dismantle the fundamental belief system governing the moral and ethical behavior of man, then man is free to do as he pleases without constraint. The hypocrisy of the Ralph Reed-led Christian Coalition and other religious organizations vying for political power should be held at bay by the clause “Separation of Church and State.” It was invented for just this reason. Any political movement that invokes religion to further their cause is in error. Conversely using religion to fairly govern and legislate a country once a political faction has risen to power is appropriate. Using religion hypocritically to become elected is criminal resting assured to God it all ready is. The Moslem religion is the second largest in the world behind Christianity. Until violent Arab terrorists inappropriately began using Islam as a rationale for their violent, selfish, criminal acts, Islam went mostly unnoticed. Americans may have been aware of the continued conflict between Israel and Palestine over the much sought after Gaza Strip. Unfortunately Jews and Moslems have been living on and battling over their same native soil for centuries. At the most basic level and comically this has been translated into real estate’s popular slogan, “Location, location, location.” President Bush’s War on Terror began this Gaza Strip- influenced imperialistic idea in Iraq which has spread like the Black Plague. It promulgated a sectarian schism that has escalated into more violence. Mistakenly this violence has been miscast as an Iraqi civil war. In actuality many peaceful Moslem families have fled their country to pursue normalcy in life. Iraq has become a “Dead Zone” devolving to the level of other all ready existing genocide-like war zones in Africa. The United States has yet to make a successful example of Iraq. If it was intended to become a Middle Eastern democracy, scholars easily would have shown because of the preexisting sectarian divisions this was unlikely to occur. President Bush maliciously, spontaneously, and without forethought created a war that has destroyed two countries, Iraq and the United States. Until the he concedes the land that belongs to the Iraqi people, terrorism will continue soon to become rampant on our native soil. When men are stripped of their dignity and of higher aesthetics, what is left but the flowing blood of religion? This is why the terror force in Iraq has become so violent. There is nothing to lose. Is it the wrath of Allah or the United States which is more looming?

The IRA

Gena was a real woman. She had a flair for fashion, because her husband worked for a notable clothing store chain. She was able to buy clothes at a substantial discount. Not far in the distant past in America, fashion was in. The venue of pop music was the stage upon which fashion statements were broadcast. Fashion was and has been a major tenant of the music business, because without an appealing image people have difficulty relating to you. They need a tangible image to connect them with your music. This is why advertising has always been important in America. Cheers to the forthcoming movie “Ad Men” for recreating some of that nostalgic Americana. A “logo” is important for selling a product, because it becomes part of the product. Music the same way cannot exist alone. It needs things to augment its message. Whether it is an “Achey Breaky Heart,” “Friends in Low Places,” or a “Billie Jean,” music needs a stage upon which to present its drama. This drama is a necessary part of music’s existence. The shallow sexual imagery of today’s pop music is nothing but an aural suggestion for partying. Is this an accurate representation of our youth culture, or is it like television has done in the past influencing our youth? No matter what anyone says television like no other public medium has influenced our children. It has set trends. It has made stars. It has provided inspiration and fellowship. Today it is breeding Generation Jihad. If an ad agency wasted a minute summing up the client of Al Qaeda, it would be represented by towel-headed, AKG toting, lunatic fanatics. American culture and music is at a loss understanding, integrating, or representing these Extreme Islam ideals. It is more difficult than Viet Nam, because of the higher likelihood of getting killed. For this reason popular music is being stymied, because even if it wanted to, it would be difficult to characterize Jihad. Until an artistic medium confronts this bizarre movement, we will continue to be its prey. Although Hip Hop originally dealt with urban violence, it pales in comparison to the extremist movement of the Iraq. Even the sonic angst of Speed Metal can not compete. For popular music to continue it has to get its head out of the native American sand and approach issues that face everyday Americans globally. In this way only shallow, self-serving, glam escapism will have relevance. How can citizens continue to watch children produce soft core pornography in a vacuum? Folk music was bred in the l960’s when sociopolitical movements were powerful and volatile. If anyone took the time to look around, these times are becoming every bit as volatile. The firm groundwork that was laid in the Clinton administration has been systematically dismantled by a nihilist presence that is operating on two levels. One is Extreme Islam, because it is attempting to overthrow U.S. world domination by rejecting our value system using terrorist acts. Consequently this dramatically has effected our entire country’s belief system. What used to be solid, tangible, philosophies are being torn apart by self doubt. If Time magazine ventures far enough to publish an article questioning the existence of God, then there is a nihilist philosophy at work. When a major corporation mounts an advertising campaign to contradict global warming, then there is a nihilist philosophy at work. If media continues to capitalize on Extremism, then we as a country will move further away from our own ideals which constantly need to be reinforced by being seen and heard. The culprits of Extremism are all ready embedded in corporate America and our government, and The War on Terror has become a smoke screen to divert our attention. Why else would corporations continue trying to buy the country? Citizens must organize and protest publicly what we demand in our country from our government, and elected officials must begin legislating policies to ensure these demands are met. Its seems a coup is imminent. Americans like the Irish just need to be briefed on who the enemy really is.

Confused Extremism

As you grow older the availability of women becomes more complex. In many other countries that are more liberal than the foundling United States, tribal customs allow more diverse relationships. The puritan rules of our conservative society pale in comparison. Grandparent-aged men and women are allowed to court and wed teenagers. The prospect of an older man marrying a younger woman in the United States today still remains a high profile media extravaganza. Why is it America has cast its roots in such limiting philosophies, and the models of Victorian England still stand? Society replete with its Cotillion and emerging debutants casts its looming shadow over the freedoms of our people. European traditions of court mandate parents choose their children’s spouses based on the prospect of economic wealth. The rewarding element of experience in romance is that over the years you have had the opportunity to enjoy many types of relationships. The key is time. When one looks back and remembers love, each incident occurred in a different time period and at a different age. Who is to say which type of relationship is best? Can the feelings in an adolescent relationship sustain into adulthood? Is there a specific age when one becomes an adult, so that frivolous mannerisms in adolescence become extinct? Can an adult relationship be based upon the animal chemistry of young love? When becoming an adult does the mind take over and decide cognitively when to allow the physical body to be in love? Many seem to think a soul mate, one with a similar emotional profile, is the basis of love. Because someone feels what you do doesn’t necessarily mean you have to love them. As a man becomes older all of these factors are at play in acquiring a mate. An older man should be more adept adjusting to different women, because he has had experience with a variety of age groups over the years. Is the thought of resuscitation of adolescent “puppy love” a forbidden fruit? Is this the allure of youthfulness? Depending upon your personal experiences one could have had pleasing and satisfying relationships or dysfunctional ones. Certainly the thought of budding young nubile women suggests sexual bliss, but is this really love? As in Christina Aguilera’s case how can a woman of so few years suggest she knows anything about the art of love? Her proclamation a few years ago accompanied by a sordid magazine pictorial did nothing but harm her career, because a proclamation of infidelity ultimately is perceived as a character flaw. Who cares if you are loose? Many young female singers have tried this ploy to promote their careers, and unfortunately this has become most important in pop music. Mariah Carey started as a shy girl from a burrow in New York barely showing any skin in her early videos. After her divorce from Tommy Lipuma she became liberated, had breast implants, and let it all hang out. Tony Braxton chose a particular dress to wear on the Grammy’s that shocked the nation. She looked beautiful and sexy, but those characteristics can not substitute for professional song-writing, a crack sound engineer, talented musicians, and a savvy producer. Although the recent trend of female sexual abstinence until marriage is a little over the top, conservation of one’s sexuality for personal enjoyment is wise. Why would any family dress their child up in a cowboy outfit with make up and send them into the pageant arena? With stiff penalties for pedafiles and much of that being fueled by the internet, why would a family want to contribute to the delinquency of depraved men? Recently when a guest aboard a cruise ship upon which I was working began taking pictures of a shop keeper’s buxom cleavage, she was surprised. The only reason you wear such clothing is so people will notice you. If you have stellar physical attributes people can’t help but notice. If you don’t want people to look, than don’t dress that way. The courtship ritual in America has become tainted with immaturity. Television’s bad examples are not helping our youth’s morality. The steady decline of our public education system is a contributing factor. With either a single parent or two parents working, our youth have been abandoned to the internet as a guide in growing up. This is not an acceptable method of rearing children, because analysts all ready have said if new jobs did appear, there would be no work force available to take the jobs. Dick and Jane are too busy text messaging, playing video games, and watching television shows which offers a false hope of becoming America’s next pop star. It seems the Republican party is incapable of beginning to empower a new generation of Americans. Old money is proving to be a stumbling block for the survival of our country. As our economy has turned away from a stable and substantial manufacturing base and toward moving money around in the market, who is going to carry the torch for the traditional infrastructure of the United States? All our youth have is predictions of when Social Security will be bankrupt. Daily television news can only report on which next mega merger will blow a stock market bubble which will surely pop in a few weeks. Have we become a country of only smoke and mirrors? Is this a responsible representation of the world’s greatest superpower? The guilds of the Middle Ages once were influential to the infrastructure of America. Why have these and other viable traditions been abandoned? Is it that we are too lazy to value our own products manufactured with integrity, pride, and the Protestant work ethic? Is it that cheap Chinese imports replaced our need to produce goods? We are experiencing the downside of that onslaught of unsupervised importation with tainted dog food, lead-ridden paint, and diseased produce. “Can you ask for anything more,” as George Gershwin’s song says? I think we can and we should, and other periods of prosperity can serve a guide to a more fruitful and enlightened society. I am having a hard time justifying the continued pursuit of music, because the Extreme Islam terrorist faction is spreading vitriol laden with guilt. Anytime someone in the Iraq tells a joke, listens to music, or dances they are tortured or shot. We can not continue to allow Extreme Islam rituals to influence our culture. Gabriel blew the trumpet in exaltation of God’s presence. Time and time again in the Bible, not the Coran, Jesus said dance for joy. The arts are meant to lead us away from ignorance, violence, and immorality. There is no reason our society should feel guilt for pursuing enlightened subjects of the humanities and sciences. They represent God and the Renaissance and were provided for us as such. A focus upon such things will strengthen the idea of God, because no scientist could be so vain to proclaim these miraculous disciplines were created by man. They were created for man by our God. Any religion that erroneously prophecies suicide as a vehicle for sexual bliss with virgins is depraved, and its followers should be treated as criminals. Historically our world has suffered from these atrocities before. The fall of the Holy Roman Empire and the Great Schism are examples. How is it that religion, that which through Christianity offers brotherly love, mistakenly has been cast as corrupt? Maybe a religious pilgrimage is imminent in the United States, citizens marching in search of a more appropriate representation of our Deity. It is time God made a second coming and put man in his place.

Gena

I first met Gena when auditioning for a society band in Columbus, Ohio while working on my doctorate. I received a telephone call from a woman musician who was seeking a good keyboard player for a band. Somehow she had gotten my name through the grapevine from a few other Ohio State musicians. The voice of a woman seeking a musician has always been far more powerful in persuading me to want to be a part of the band. In some situations it has been the only reason I have become involved in a musical project. Music is romance, and without the male/female relationship represented, the band experience is shallow. The prospect of getting laid is always an added incentive. I knew from the beginning something was going to transpire. The chemistry was right, and I knew it. Because she was married she did not readily admit there was going to be an affair. It took a little persuasion, but with patience, love, and true fondness a relationship was founded that lasted over a year. Not surprisingly the qualities that provide a good foundation for a romance were present. There were common interests among one which was the love of music. This we shared, and its common bond fueled the romance like good music should. Gena was a better reader of written piano music than I was. She was classically trained both in voice and piano and began at an early age. She had a masters degree in vocal pedagogy, and consequently was articulate in defining the physical processes necessary to produce a good singing voice. She knew about the various muscular groups, breath support, and vowel and consonant pronunciation. It was a turn on to hear her talk about this musical process and even more of a turn on that she knew how the vocal cords and oral cavity worked. Later it turned out she had a fetish for use of the oral cavity in a variety of situations. Fellatio was our first foray into intimacy, and it was instigated by her. One morning when she dropped by at nine a.m. with good coffee, orange juice, and croissants my penis ended up being her desert. Suddenly and without warning simply she pulled down my white pee-stained sweat pants and began sucking on my penis. Who could complain? She seemed to enjoy having my manhood in her mouth, and although she wouldn’t swallow my ejaculate, she did allow me to expel it in her mouth. Comically and with some disapproval, she then would stagger to the bathroom where she would empty her mouth of my morning protein shake. I thought this was odd seeing as most women say semen has little or no taste. Conversely many porno movies have been made about traveling semen. Allegedly in urban mythology rocker Elvis Costello and his extremely sexual jazz singer/pianist wife have engaged in the somewhat depraved act of “feltching.” When Gena and I were involved I had no idea what this was, because to me sex had always been the expression of love. It was only later with Melanie I learned “love” is an unnecessary burden. Only then such things come to mind. In a “puppy love” relationship feelings of jealousy and insecurity far outweigh the interesting prospect of sexual diversity. If the internet were to become an example of teenage sexuality it would seem any tenant of love was absent. I suppose that defeats the purpose of a pornographic site, viewing a couple who really are in love and expressing such through the act of sexual intercourse. In traditional video-based pornography you used to be able to find a gamut of sexual experiences. I have always felt the best videos were where there was chemistry between the man and the woman. These exhibited passion or animal desire, and that makes for good sex. It has only been recently that on a DVD I purchased in Nassau I discovered a pornographic movie with this element. The few videos I have bought in the last decade have been lacking in this emotion. It is better to watch this than a young man with a web-cam sexually exploiting underage teens for money. At least with a commercially produced video there is a mechanism in place other than just juvenile, adolescent, sexual angst. There is also a maturity and respect for the business aspect of pornography. Much like the personal computer has diluted the process of making music, it has also diluted the art of making love. Watching the women alone or with each other is pleasing, but viewing a self-absorbed web master video-taping himself fucking women while he coos mindless childish phrases is sickening. “Baby is doing good.” “Very nice.” I would almost rather hear something manly and aggressive. If you are performing for the public it is in your best interest to keep your personal intimate moments stealth. A paid prostitute would not show feelings toward her john. Teenage girls having sex with a videographer also should not. They are being exploited, and this can only result in the same kinds of sexual dysfunction that occur in abusive familial relationships. Likewise the perverse acts of mature adults operating outside the theatre of traditional “puppy love” should be reserved until later years. A young couple destined to marry couldn’t be thinking about passing semen from mouth to mouth. I happily partook of Gena’s offerings, and over time they developed into a full bred sexual relationship. Along with her musical talent Gena had an acute awareness of her own sexuality. She knew about her clitoris. When she was becoming sexually aroused she would inadvertently touch her clitoris like a black man fondling his junk. It was queer, but not in a homosexual aspect. It was strange to see a grown woman touching herself like a tough man would. Maybe that is what made her sexually attractive. She had a confidence with her sexuality, and her intent on exploring it. This later I found out came from her first marriage that never was consummated. Gena was hell bent on having those experiences she had missed early as a bride. She was not the first woman musician I have met that missed that boat so to speak. I have another one living next door. Our relationship came to a close after I had eye surgery. I became a “gimp” of sorts, and that was no longer attractive to her. I also made the fatal mistake of telling her I loved her on New Year’s Eve after a gig. All along I had been that one that kept my hand outstretched with no prospect of destroying a marriage. We had kept it objective, and I am the one that yielded the shotgun. In a moment of weakness I passed the torch to her, and she did the right thing. Our last time of making love was unsatisfactorily after our New Year’s Eve gig. We had traveled out of town, and the group had provided hotel rooms for us. Unfortunately the gig turned into a rock concert, and Gena did not get to sing much. She became despondent and tired and was ready to drive home. It was New Year’s Eve, and we had a room alone. What transpired was the prequel to Melanie’s dead fish lesson, except in this scenario the dead fish was not turned on but mostly asleep. I had to roll her on her stomach and physically spread her legs to get my penis in her vagina. I am not sure if she knew what had happened or not. Later she only remarked that it was wet down there. This was not a great send off to a fulfilling year long romance, and as a result I had a small amount of recurrent depression. Goodbyes are important, and everyone should try to remember good experiences, especially those involving love and intimacy. They could be the last ones you ever have. Gena was the last best kisser I have ever had, because we could “suck face” for minutes at a time both standing and lying down. Melanie was a better lover, but music was the guiding force in this particular romance.

Sonic Youth

Nobody has really stopped to think about the impact the MP3 has had on the music business. While college students may have embraced the compressed file format with open arms allowing them to up and download free audio files, the effect it has had on the modern music industry is robust. What possible negative consequence could the MP3 imposed on the recording industry? Less than a decade ago recording studios were responsible for quality sound. Everyone knew without a great sound no one was going to want to listen to your music much less buy it. Music after all is sound. There are aesthetics that use cacophonous sound in achieving a desired result. The Avant-Garde in the genre of jazz music pushed the envelope of sound to this extreme. To this day many people don’t get it. They don’t understand why Ornette Coleman, Eric Dolphy, and Cecil Taylor remain viable artists and trendsetters in the field of jazz music. The Avant-Garde abstracts traditional processes in music without abandoning their structure. It also uses the sheer power of sound as a device itself. While the organization of the music may seem obscured to some listeners, if you allow your senses to be effected this is no longer a requirement. Many jazz artists have said you don’t have to understand complex harmony to be able to enjoy their music. You just need to be open to being effected by the music emotionally. If you don’t allow yourself to be moved by the music, than it loses it purpose. This element is what is absent from today’s pop music. Either by choice or consequences this element has been removed from the music like an empty shelf in a stocked cupboard. Why would anyone want to remove the key element that defines art? Is it that we don’t think pop music should contain tenants of art? Is it because the industry doesn’t want the responsibility of having to deal with music at the artistic level? Is it that the music industry has devolved to a level rendering them incapable of being artistic? Artistic music doesn’t necessarily have to be non-commercial. Andy Warhol defined pop art in modern America. He showed art can be appealing and thoughtful without being overbearing and high brow. Many consider the music of J.S. Bach such, because it uses the subject of the worshipping of God as its main theme. Bach was a church organist, and during his era church was a major component of society. Some feel his music is not approachable, because the loftiness of God is intimidating. Certainly to music theorists species counterpoint has always carried this stigma. It is a regimen of intense proportions and rules. Pop simply may be the diluting of such content to reach the common person. In doing so if the idea of feeling or effecting the listener in some way has been lost, what viability does the music retain? Does it not must become a shallow device for making money? I don’t think most musicians have ever succumbed to such a low level where they were not concerned about presenting ideas through music. The venue of music has always been that, a platform upon which you can express ideas. The notion that music somehow has been reduced to a level of something else is unacceptable. Who did this? There can be no logical explanation of this phenomenon, much like there is no logical explanation for the acts of Extreme Islam. It is undefined. It only can be a product of ignorance, selfishness, and self promotion. A recent personal music experience can serve as an example of this shallow behavior. Upon embarking a particular vessel for work, the environment eerily was reminiscent of the movie “Night of the Living Dead.” Instead of encountering live, breathing, feeling human beings, I encountered an army of clones, of seeming brain-washed droids demanding your reciprocation of their army-like behavioral mannerisms. Little thoughtful reflection, thinking, or feeling was to be found with interest in finding new experiences. Instead there was callus, rude, and aggressive behavior instigated by the rote indoctrination of principles of which to be mindlessly followed. The clincher was this army was defensive, mounting an offense to defeat any aberration from their norm. There was a threshold of existence that difficultly would be broken, subconsciously representing a blind allegiance to a sectarian-like interest found in Extreme Islam. Survival reliant upon religious-like fanaticism has spread to many cultures, effecting the way people live and behave. If the world continues to fail in providing proper models of civilized behavior, surely we will succumb to the evil forces of Jihad. Increasingly the mis-education and therefore controlling of our youth is serving a nihilist philosophy, being propagated by people unknowing of their own flaws. What mass tool could be spreading this ideology? One only has to look at the TV screen to find an answer. The “reality” TV program is extreme in that it negates contemplative thought and wisdom for the immediate effect of shock. After years of influence upon the American public, children are beginning to beleive this behavior is appropriate for everyday life. This would explain the primitive mindless pursuit of immediate gratification, because we are not investing in anything to promote their welfare in the future. Unlike the “baby boomer” generation which was transfixed with accumulating money, “generation jihad” is only concerned with today because ultimately and extremely there may be no tomorrow. With over fifty percent of Americans believing the second coming of Jesus Christ will occur in their lifetime, there must be sufficient instability in the political world to merit this extreme behavior. We have all ready lost the “War of Terror,” because the roots of our country have been violated. Until a more educated generation dispenses with the childish pursuits of video gaming, cell phoning, and “behaving badly” on television, there will be few viable examples of civil life left to lead society. Are apartheid, civil war, sectarian violence, and mass genocide destined to come to America? The creation of a Department of Homeland Security was one small step in the direction of a police state. If we do not continue to be the country we once were, America is destined to become every other third world country. It’s too bad the guillotine never made it to North America, because the thought of the French Revolution should frighten the wealthy-elite into realizing someone must be responsible for the common man. We are created equal. Music throughout history has provided reason, wisdom, history, and foreshadowing. With this aesthetic and a sonic platform upon which to perform, music can provide solstice from unwanted movements such as Islamic Extremism. The advent of the MP3 effectively rendered impotent the art of music, because its compression scheme dispenses with the very medium necessary to effect its listeners. It’s funny how broadband has robbed music of its power. The bandwidth of music has been reduced with the MP3, in favor of a broadband of communications ability. How can it be that the FCC “broadbanded” the electro-magnetic spectrum to include microwave frequencies for communication, but the bandwidth of music became reduced? The traditional effective means of broadcast of full spectrum music is being abandoned for novelty! What purpose can reducing the sonic impact of music to a communicator-sized MP3 player serve? Why has there been a marked trend toward reducing the size of electronic components when size really does matter? Like the recording industry have manufacturers become too cheap to continue producing quality audio components? How can a deck-of-cards-sized music player come close to replicating the experience of live music, when formerly it took a symphony orchestra, a rock band, and a host of high fidelity audio components? Not to far in the distant past music connousieurs took pride in assembling stereo systems that rivaled NASA control panels. For such a system to provide audio enjoyment, the environment in which you listened must be quiet. That means your home must be resistant to infrasonic pollution. American homeowners must not have the money to purchase the complex systems of noise abatement necessary to shield their living environments from infrasonic noise. One particular manufacturer on the web offers a complex array of sheet steel, cinder blocks, and acoustical treatment. With this in mind it is easier to “retreat” to a contained environment such as an iPod and earbuds. In the early years of television monophonic sound was used exclusively to convey dialog and music. Many people to this day prefer and enjoy monophonic sound, because it is resistant to the phase-shifting caused by low frequency modulation. It seems for a variety of reasons quality music and their counterpart systems of conveyance have been out-sourced for a seemingly more effective means of listening to music. Just as pop music has taken over the existing airwaves, an instinct of survival has necessitated the development of alternative methods of music listening pleasure. In the process many of the core components of the power of music have been lost. Simply put without bandwidth, the ability to recreate these diverse frequencies, and a quiet environment in which to listen, the traditional method of enjoying music has been lost. Our bodies can no longer be “moved” by waves of quality sound, but rather our brains are indoctrinated by sound without a purpose. The consequent result is a populace of music listeners that are denied sensory reactions to the subject matter. We have been taught to “un-feel.” Feeling music is no longer cool, because the onslaught of ensuing feelings modulated by pollution are too complex to fathom. Hollywood celebrities have used the acronym “F-I-N-E” to sum up their now current emotional states. “Freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional.” If these are the choices our current environment have provided us, then it is plausible our youthful generation began searching for and finding their own choices. To allow an underprivileged and needy generation to “school” America in their emotional choices is ludicrous. It defeats the whole purpose of education, the experiencing of the gamut of emotions through music, from which they can draw their own conclusions. In this way the MP3 has become a stumbling block for the musical education of America. As a result everyone in the food chain is suffering, including the record labels, consumers, and artists. The MP3 and the internet are effective tools for exchanging and marketing music, but in the process the very purpose of music is being lost.

The Rolling Stones, Stone Hinge, Kidney Beans, and Rice

Dear Santa,

This year for Christmas I would like for you to bring me FOUR THOUSAND DOLLARS worth of debt for having gone to the Emergency Room for passing a kidney stone. I would like a CT scan, a shot of Dialated, an IV drip, and a clean room for two hours.
As a matter of fact a room at the local Motel 6, a hooker, and a shot of heroin would have only cost $300.00. On second thought bring me that instead.

Love,

Sicko

Today's Top Ten Kudos List

Steve Jobs and Apple Computers for introducing a humanistic and fun product into the saturated but highly diluted cellular phone market.

Greenpeace for carrying the torch for honest environmental political activism.

The television show Maximum Exposure for wisely shifting their focus, presenting a telling expose of political protesting in other countries.

TLC’s effort in taking American Chopper to Europe to meet thousands of adoring fans.

Kurt Cobain for bringing the “Seattle Sound” into the forefront of American popular music.

Conan O’Brien for resurrecting his character the” Pimpbot 5000” on Late Night with Conan O’Brien.

Craig Ferguson for resigning from CBS, joining the BBC and redirecting his show to a crack house in Liverpool.

The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation for donating 2 billion dollars to the National Parks Service in the Department of the Interior for the building of public skateparks all over America.

Phillips for inventing High Definition Direct Internet.

The North Carolina Symphony for a perfect 4th of July Celebration Concert in Fayetteville, North Carolina. (Cheers to composer Terry Mizesko)

Bob and Milo

I have had four cats in my lifetime. Molly was the first, and she was a gift from my then girlfriend Geraldine. Molly was a kitten when I got her, so she liked to sleep in my lap. I liked that, a “lap kitty.” Rodney was my second cat, and he took the place of Molly. Molly got hit by a car and died of cardio-thrombosis. The muscle around her heart hardened after she was hit. One of her claws was also torn out in the process. They set her claw, patched her up a best possible, and I watched her die over the next week or so. She couldn’t breathe, because her heart wasn’t pumping enough blood. That was painful to watch, her in distress sitting on my chair. A blood clot formed and moved through her arteries to her back leg. When I saw it go limp from under her, I knew the time was near. We had her euthanized at our neighborhood veterinarian. He was a nice, good-looking man with a curly black afro. He wore a biker’s jacket, and I think he drove a motorcycle. I cried a lot over Molly’s death. There was another cat living in his office among many they had saved. Rodney used to greet us from the lobby desk when we sent to see Molly. He was black and white and looked like a skunk. He too had been hit by a car as a kitten and his pelvis had been broken. He was slew-footed, so he walked or rather waddled around the room. He was a happy cat, but upon trying to get him home when we agreed to adopt him, out of fright he clawed the be-Jesus out of me. Rodney lived a long time, the latter part of his years as my parents cat, since I left Fayetteville to attend Ohio State. He lived over fifteen years in my parents home and died my parent’s upstairs bedroom of kidney failure. He was weak and couldn’t eat, but he wasn’t in pain. I suggested we let him die naturally, because the process with Molly and two of my dad’s other dogs was difficult. Baron had a tumorous bladder, and Maxine had heart worms. Both had to be put down, and Baron somehow became my responsibility. I took him to an emergency clinic while my parents attended a church dinner. I felt it fitting that my dad take care of Rodney’s death. He buried him out in the backyard. Bob was my third cat, and I acquired her from a set of twin kittens abandoned in a field beside a Suburban Lodge in Columbus, Ohio. I came home one night late after playing a gig. It was raining. As I tried to get into the lodge, I heard this quiet meowing. She was wet and miserable and looked like a drowned rat. The next day I bought food and fed what turned out to be almost identical twins everyday for a month and a half until I found a place to live. I named the twins Milo and Bob. Bob was the girl, and she was the less feral of the two. Milo was a madman and wouldn’t let you touch him. Bob on the other hand I enticed to crawl in my lap. I knew she would be the one I would take. I tried painstakingly for several months to ‘catch’ the two of them. I built traps out of cardboard boxes, string, and duct tape. The blustery March wind all but filibustered that process as my box trap was blown all over the parking lot. I drove up there everyday and fed the two kittens, even while I lived in another part of town. Finally I got smart enough and made a solid trap out of chicken wire. Upon entering it Milo freaked out and began hurtling himself against the sides of the cage. I had to let him go. It was sad, because I wanted to save both of them. I gently placed Bob in the car and covered the trap with a blanket. I drove extremely slowly on the interstate back to my townhouse, so she wouldn’t be upset. She meowed most of the way, but it wasn’t an alarming sound. I think instinctively she knew she was being saved. I carried the trap gingerly into the basement, put a plate of food and a bowl of water on the ground in front of her, turned off the light and left. After several days of boredom she reared her head at the door at the top of the steps. I let her in her own time find her way around and come to trust me. I didn’t force myself on her. She was still feral you see, and had been living in a field since her birth. That field was beautiful. It had a stream at the bottom of a gully and many pretty flowers. I don’t think the kittens were unhappy or lonely, because there was always activity in the parking lots adjacent to the field. Bob was also black and white. She only lived to be two years old, but I knew that would happen. Any kitten you rescue from the wild will never really become your lifelong pet. She was a chapter, a beautiful satisfying story of trust and love, that I saved from the wilderness. We had a bond, and Bob loved me. She often would sleep on my chest purring so loudly my neighbors could hear it. The only harsh moment we had, was when another cat, her first stranger, peeked into the picture window of my townhouse. She let out such an awful howl, I had to throw a shoe at her. She became afraid, but I think she knew I would never hurt her. I moved in with Melanie, and the house we had rented smelled like pets. I knew this would be hard for Bob, but this was my choice. I had a chance at a woman, so Bob would have to become second fiddle. I think she could have dealt with Melanie, but the smell of the other pets and move was too much for her. She disappeared for a few days, and we found her in the basement sitting on the couch with a piece of insulation stuck to her nose. She was almost comatose with fright. I did not realize she had a fever of almost 104. It was a holiday, and my veterinarian was closed. Help could not wait, so I had to take her to a strange place, another veterinarian at Mill Pond. I went in with a a live cat and came out with a dead one. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to feel, but I made the decision not to delay her euthanasia. She was in dire pain and never would recover. I did not want to watch her die, so I asked them to do it. That I think was a mistake, but there was no other choice. I was in a foreign place, Bob was dying, and I had to do something. I think it would have been okay had they simply just injected her in the neck without preparation. Instead they chose to shave her arm, which was a lengthy process and signaled to her there was something to come. I was not sure if she needed comfort or not, or if touching her would cause more pain. I did finally hold her, but it was a shallow effort. She died in a heap in my arms. I put her in the carrier I had brought her in alive, and drove her back to our home. Melanie was not home, so in emotional distress I buried her in the back yard in a plastic bag. After I came to my senses I decided I wanted Melanie to be able to say goodbye to her, so I dug her up. I took her out of the plastic bag, put her in a nice box with a towel lining, and found all of her play toy mice scattered widely in the house. I put them along with the remaining cans of her food in the box and waited for Melanie to come home. I made a nice cross out of broken branches in the yard and dug her a new grave nearer to the back door next to Mable’s grapevine. When Melanie arrived I explained to her that I had planned a respectful wake, let her look at Bob one last time, and placed her in the ground. Amongst a thousand tears I covered her up with dirt from the yard. That yard would be the yard in which Pedro would come to play.

Texas Instruments

In the immortal quest for new hip cell phone design it might make since to take a look at a Best Products or Sam Soloman catalog from the l980's. What does that new phone really look like? A Texas Instruments TI-33 calculator from the late l970's! That was a pretty amazing device in its day. You couldn't get through the SAT without it. Can you say that about a cell phone?

Melanie

Whilst living in an Upper Arlington Townhouse in David Letterman’s home state of Ohio, I was contacted by a woman via the internet. It seems she was moved by a series of letters I had written to the editor. She was an editor herself and an intellectual. After a sequence of correspondence she appeared at my front doorstep in a long, cowgirl-like skirt, boots, with flowing blond hair. She looked a lot like Annie Oakley. Before I knew what was happening she entered my home and hugged me around the neck. It was a good hug, not a modern hug of control and disconnection. There was full body contact, and I could feel the contours of her thighs upon mine. I asked her out on a “date” as one should. I worried about the date quite a bit and dressed up in brown wide-wale corduroy pants, a pink Oxford-cloth shirt, and pulled my long hair back with an Indian-styled piece of leather and stick. I had long hair back then, and because it was so thick I cut it short in the back and pulled my long bangs back Samurai styled. She drove us to dinner in her dark gray Toyota Camry. I’m not sure why she volunteered to drive, but it was nice being driven around. I owned a Toyota Tercel unibody four-door wagon. It was not the pinnacle of luxury, but it was rock solid and carried my musical gear. We may have listened to the droning of New Age Monk music, and I don’t mean Thelonious. It was rather soothing music, and it was nice to be dressed up and on a date with an attractive older woman. Melanie it turns out was the only real woman I have ever been involved with. She had an Oedipus complex as well as schizophrenia, but that made her interesting. The only reason we broke up was because I didn’t make enough money. I chose to leave the house we both inhabited, because the neighbors got funky and I no longer could work in my studio on the second floor. We both had our problems, and that was one reason we were drawn to each other. Her father, a psychologist, had died of alcoholism having spilt his liver on the living room rug. Her mother died when she was fifteen of Leukemia. Melanie had pain and soul, and I liked her. She loved me, but would not let herself be in love with me because I was still a Mama’s boy taking money from my parents for rent. We had a reasonable life together for over two years. With all its ups and downs and with her inclination to verbally harass me upon acute tiredness, I still loved her. I’m not sure why I left. One reason is because I had an interview for a college level teaching job in North Carolina. She had been pushing me to do more with my life, so I thought moving back to North Carolina and getting this job would look good to her. Because she used to always talk about “going back to school,” I figured if I got the job she could move there and go back to school for free. Isn’t that a noble thought? Her take on it was “You want me to move there so you can @#$% me?” As I expressed in one of my earlier posts, this kind of erroneous projection of intent and feeling is death to a relationship. I guess that sealed out fate right there. I kept in touch with her for a while over the phone and with E-Mail. Because I could be a complainer, and because E-Mail is such an intimate type of communication, she decided no longer to answer my E-Mails. I have never tried to call her, because what would we say? It has been my experience women have difficulty with long distance relationships. When I was in college my first love of seven years strayed. She completely was dismayed when I announced I would be attending the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She had not been accepted there. My thought was, “This was college and your future, so you have to do what you have to do. The rest will fall in place. We can see each other on weekends.’’ That did not fare so well with her or my own mother. Prancing back in the house on weekends all up on your high horse as not what my mother had in mind. This was a shock to me. My parents have always been demonstrative in keeping the children in their place, and that continues to this day. While we were able to keep in touch on the phone and with letters, little did I know that continual sex in high school was destined to be replaced by her somehow. For some reason I did not think about it. Strange, I guess. After a few months without her lover, she strayed and put me through hell on earth. Instead of having the decency to break up with me, she allowed her infidelity to continue treating me badly in the meantime. I had a bonafide cold fish on my hands, but I made her make love to me anyway. It is after all your responsibility in a relationship. When you are married, it does not matter that you grow apart from your spouse. When you take those vows that your beloved will be the only person you have sex with for the rest of your life, then you must give it to them whether you want to or not. That’s the deal. She would not explain to me what was going and would not break up with me. It is ironic her philandering gave her a smelly yeast infection. It was only after forcing a visit upon her at her college, that I was able to discover the problem. I found a postcard in her top desk drawer from another man that said, “I love you.” I gave her a tongue lashing, and we proceeded to make up. Later she transferred to my college as a Junior, and as she still tells me, it was the best thing she ever did. UNC was a reputable school, better then the homosexual-laden debauchery that was taking place in Greenville. It was only a few years ago that I figured out those experiences at ECU changed her, and that was the reason we could not be married. These “diverse” sexual experiences including lesbianism changed her into a different person, and I was not involved. We grew apart, and as adults we both knew. We had a teary but peaceful divorce. With that experience in mind it was easier to let Melanie go. She was working for an older man that wanted to marry and have sex with her. While she adamantly resisted his attempts, I can’t be positive he didn’t resume full frontal contact the second I left. I have not kept up with her out of respect, but I still think about her. It is often easier to cut something off clean during a break up. Emotionally it is easier that way, but when a lover is the most recent chapter of your life I think people tend to hold the torch for a while. I did, but as a sane adult realized there was no point in nurturing those memories. You must move on. In this situation our relationship was tied to musical creativity. Living with Melanie allowed me to have a music studio on the second floor of our house. Her love and affection and willingness to have sex with me gave me the fulfillment I needed to be extremely musically productive. While living with her in that house on Billingsworth Avenue, I produced eleven CD’s. In two years of dedicated artistic and intellectual achievement, I cranked out saleable musical product. I will always have her to thank for that possibility. This cowgirl, this waif, this Dolly knew the deal with sex. She was liberal, more liberal than I was, and she forced me to learn things. I had never had a woman suggest I masturbate in front of her. I had never met anyone with self-esteem high enough to take the responsibility to admit they liked certain things. I used to think allowing the other person to be “who they were” was what love was. That is a noble effort and worthy of praise. Taking gratification from another person wanting you? Holy shit man! That is an antiquated concept. Are Scarlett and Rhett in the house? Now I fully believe recognizing someone’s desire for you and channeling that in a positive way is key. Instead of scorning love like we are all conditioned to do out of contempt, we recognize and are turned on by someone’s interest in you. Wow, that is truly romantic. That turned me on, her knowing I liked her and being turned on by that. “Old School.” We had Old School love, and I learned a lot from it. That was the virtue of being with an older woman. Melanie was not shy about stimulating herself, and I respected that. I had never met a woman that was willing to even admit they knew what masturbation was. Most women deny it exists to a man, much less being privy to trying it. Melanie performed better fellatio than anyone I had ever been with, because she enjoyed it. She knew the difference between a man and a woman and was not afraid to use that as a turn on. She would verbally ask me things like, “If you put the chair up in the attic I will give you a blowjob.” She also, in one of the biggest turn ons of my life, said to me, “You can @#$% me, but I am not going to do anything. I am too tired to engage, but I am turned on and you can have me.” This gave new meaning to the term dead fish, and that stereotype was gone from my mind forever. Of course partially through the session, she found her energy! Melanie was not one for small talk or foreplay. While our love-making was deep and long lasting, it did not have to be precursored by adolescent high jinx. Her routine was to shower to clean her body, brush her teeth, lotion her skin and lie down naked in the bed. That was it. Upon having her period she would place a towel on the bed beneath us. It never was a hindrance but instead was an aphrodisiac. More to come.