I used to hitchhike a lot in college. I’d put on jeans, white tennis shoes, a brownish Harris tweed jacket, Oxford shirt, and a tie loose around my neck. I never got molested by any roving cruising homos, or psychopaths. Well, that’s not entirely true.
Once I was hitchhiking from Madison Wisconsin to Omaha Nebraska. Once i got down to the I-80 this guy picked me up. I got in, he looked like he was on drugs, and there was a really funky smell in the car. I looked in the back seat and saw a dog, clearly in pain, struggling on dirty blankets. “She’s about to give birth to puppies. I just beat my wife in Cincinnati and she probably called the cops on me. I don’t know. Shit. I don’t know.”
“Can I drive, you’ve been driving a long way?” I offered. We had all of Iowa to go across, and that is a long state, especially at 10:30 at night.
“Naw, I dropped some acid as I was leaving town, and I’m pretty much down now. I had some coffee at the last truck stop.” I was reassured by that last bit of information but watched the road like a hawk for the next six hours.
I digress. This week I decided I needed to stay in touch with my “inner-kid” and instead of hitchhiking, I’d take public transportation to Palm Springs and leave the car with Daniel. I was so proud that I’d worked out the whole trip.
Packed with my heavy black-wheeled bag, I locked the door and walked to the bus stop. 5 minutes. Waited for the bus. 10 minutes. Bus takes me to Hollywood and Highland across from Grauman’s Movie Theater. 7 minutes. I walk across the street, past the throngs of tourists, and the far too many actors dressed as some movie character, and street musicians and took the escalator down, down, down for my first time into the Los Angeles Subway system (the red line). All very easy to traverse. Clean. Safe. $1.25 to get downtown. I wait for 5 minutes for the subway to whisk me down to Union Station.
15 minutes later I walk into the elegant and well-kept Union Station to get my Amtrak train to Palm Springs. It being 1 pm, I’m hungry. “I’m sure there was some cool restaurant down here.” Determined I zoomed across the marble floor and found Mecca. The place is called Traxx, and I was able to escape for an hour into the lifestyle to which I am normally accustomed and had a Petite Syrah and a Waldorf salad. An hour later, having relaxed and lunched, and dealt with all my emails on my iPhone, I walked to catch my train. I looked at the departure board and was puzzled to not see my train’s number. I went to the information booth asking where I was to go.
I said “I feel as though I’m about to go to Hogwarts and that my platform is not advertised and will just open up before my eyes when the time is right.” She just looked at me not getting the Harry Potter reference. And no such luck. The train doesn’t run on Thursdays. So I had to schlep all the way back home: train to Hollywood, bus home, walk a half mile.
When I took off to go hitchhiking, I had to “let go” of time and expectations. I took on the same attitude today. It was ok, it was an adventure and I had fun even tho I didn’t get to Palm Springs.
Tomorrow, I’ve resolved to rip up my Amtrak ticket into teeny little pieces and drive out to PS with Ronnie in her new Boxter. So there.
The 1960s band, The Small Faces have been subsequently classified as a “psychedelic band.” For this song, the psychedelic part is the cool sound known as flanging. A flange the plastic or metal container used to hold magnetic recording tape, used in recording music. You get the flanging or phasing sound by lining up two identical copies of the same passage, start them simultaneously (which was tricky to do) and then touch one of the flanges to delay it by 20 milliseconds, you then get a whooshing sound. This was the first use of this effect in a pop song according to the Wikipedia source, but I know that the Beatles used it in “Lucy in the Sky with Diamond” (1967) and “I Wasn’t Born to Follow” the Goffin-King song recorded by the Byrds was also from 1967.
Early July seems to be party time for many of our friends. We had to turn down attending the Roving Church of Fun’s Harry Potter day in order to see R&P whom we had not seen in a long time. P, an internationally known interior designer, had just finished a big job and was given a handsome bonus and felt compelled to treat us all to a fabulous dinner at Hotel Bel Air. P and I shared some terrific wine, had fois gras and a rack of lamb. The cognac ended up giving us both a hangover the next day, but it was a great time.
The next evening we went to RC’s party. RC did art direction for a number of big blockbuster films and is just back from the arctic having found a perfect place to shoot the next Star Trek film. His last party ended with his back porch collapsing with a few people on it (no one was hurt). The porch is now rebuilt and he called his party “The Big Deck Party” to celebrate the larger, stronger version now firmly in place. Actors, old friends and other Hollywood people chatted the night away. A couple of brave gals stripped and jumped in the pool. We left early, but I’m sure more joined in.
On Sunday, Josie, Julia, Joe, Daniel and I went to see the new Harry Potter film. We enjoyed it a lot. Joe (who does special effects, now doing the new Get Smart) thought it was one of the best. I felt the music was effective although not at all memorable. The music was expertly done, but doesn’t draw attention to itself in the same way John Williams drops in unforgettable tunes for us to take home.
On Thursday, I’ll return to Palm Springs to work more on my chamber opera and musical while Angie comes from NYC to stay with Daniel who must stay in LA. I’ve ordered the British adult version of the new Harry Potter book from Amazon.uk which will be arriving a day before the US gets its version mailed.
Alix sent me this depressing article about the decline of our oil based economy over the upcoming decades. It makes me appreciate the golden times we live in right now.
My ex used to sing this all the time, with a silly look on his face, and very out of tune. Wow, to think I remember when this song came out. Was there ever a sequel to this? For you music theory students, how many chords in this song?
An incredible find! From gypsy musician to legend, Django Reinhardt and planetary violinist, Stephane Grappelli and their band, “Quintette du Hot Club de France” deliver a riveting performance of “J’Attendrai.” Note that Django plays with only two fingers. He was in a fire as a young man and received 1st and 2nd degree burns all over his body. He lost control of this 3rd and 4th fingers but still used them in a chord occasionally. His doctor had told him that he would likely lose his leg, but within a year, Django walked with a cane. So not only a great musician, but a real survivor.
This is the music video of the title song for the French animated feature “Les triplettes de Belleville” written by M (Mathieu Chedid). If you don’t know this song, I’ll warn you: it’s very catchy. I can’t sit still listening to this song — my body HAS to move. And that sexy three part vocal slide is irresistible. I saw the film but hadn’t seen this video, so seeing M (and his heads!) all over the place was quite entertaining.
For those of you brave enough to learn about how your brain distorts and deceives reality (that’s right: YOUR reality) I can’t recommend highly enough Cordelia Fine’s “a mind of its own” [Norton]. I am actually the Wizard of Oz, or I think I am, and behind the scenes is this busy little man huffing and puffing and creating a big scene, hoping you won’t discover what’s really going on. The chapter titles speak for themselves: The Vain Brain; The Emotional Brain; The Immoral Brain; The Deluded Brain; The Pig-headed Brain; The Secretive Brain; The Weak-Willed Brain; The Bigoted Brain; and The Vulnerable Brain.
For someone who truly wishes to “know thyself” this is a must read.
“Salty Dog” has one of the most sophisticated and powerful chord progressions in rock n roll history. The progression has very little to do with rock, blues, country, gospel, or soul, but seems more neo-Baroque than anything. The shape carved in my mind by the melody climbs ever upward. The sound of the voice is itself “salty.” To me, his tone evokes that of someone who survived to tell the tale. There is a passionate insanity in his delivery.
And then, suddenly, in the middle, it’s as if a little fairy appears and flutters with a little lydian intermezzo, an interruptive reverie. And then back to the tale. And then the lydian bit returns at the end, and the final chord is that juicy C# F G chord that set the song in motion.
The drummer has beautiful moves; the kinetic energy of his stick work is magical.
Finally, an antidote to Hallmark Cards sentimentality: ReelGreetings.com. Pop in an take a look at a whole variety of hilarious video postcards from different points of view. Take Grumpy Grandpa here, gee this dude looks familiar. I could swear this is John Hall, but, well, you never know. The website tells us: “Grumpy Grandpa has had his fair share of birthdays and wants to pass down some wisdom as you grow older.” I joined and have a year subscription for $19.95. Perfect for your inner Scrooge.
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