"I was sayin let me out of here before I was Even born--it's such a gamble when you get a face It's fascinatin to observe what the mirror does But when I dine it's for the wall that I set a place"
Richard Hell, "Blank Generation"
---------------------------- I had a craptacular, five-day weekend of work and came home in a funk last night. Even the Four Roses was sad. I slept well, though, and didn't have anything pressing this morning, so for the first time in over a year, I got on my bike and rode through Forest Park. My knees have been an issue for months, but I'm back in shape now. I will never be 100%, but I felt fine continuing my ride to University City for lunch at the U-City Grill.
There are delivery truck drivers and passers by making banter with the porter from the bar next door. No piped in music at this diner but that type of street life.
Delicious!
CHARLES MINGUS DOESN'T LIKE IT WHEN YOU JIBBER JABBER IN THE VENUE
“You, my audience, are all a bunch of poppaloppers. A bunch of tumbling weeds, tumbling ’round, running from your subconscious unconscious minds…. Minds? Minds that won’t let you stop to listen to a word of artistic meaningful truth…. So you come to me, you sit in the front row, as noisy as can be. I listen to your millions of conversations, sometimes pulling them all up together and writing a symphony. But you never hear that symphony… You haven’t been told before that you’re phonies. You’re here because jazz is popular, jazz has publicity and you like to associate yourself with this sort of thing. But it doesn’t make you a connoisseur of the art because you follow it around. You’re dilettantes of style. A blind man can go to an exhibition of Picasso and Kline and not even see what works. And comment behind dark glasses. Wow! They’re the swingingest painters ever, crazy! Well, so can you. You’ve got your dark glasses and clogged-up ears…. You become the object you came to see, and you think you’re important and digging jazz when all the time all you’re doing is digging a blind, deaf scene that has nothing to do with any kind of music at all.”
Charles Mingus addressing the audience at the Five Spot in NYC.
SOUTH OF NO NORTH...escaping the war...Charles Bukowski
"He looked at me. I stared down at my feet. He seemed to be reading a sheaf of papers in front of him. It took several minutes. Four, five, six, seven minutes. Then he spoke.