Monday, February 20, 2017


Remember the bitchy post that I wrote a few weeks ago complaining that every Monday is a holiday? Well, it wasn't much of an exaggeration. Today is yet another holiday. President's Day.

I dare not mention anything about presidents....or politics. The last time I did a post on that subject, over a dozen people permanently fled my blog. I also received a blitz of hate mail and even one death wish (I kid you not).

So much for free speech and American patriotism. Express it and you might be burned at a stake.

Do I sound bitter? That was my intention.

I'll wander into neutral territory and offer a video. Don't panic - it's not another one of my piano music videos. This recent creation is called Remember with music by California musician Richard Buckner. 

The original title of this song is Willow. It was later used in the 2008 movie Dream Boy, based on the novel by Jim Grimsley.

In the film version, the song is performed by Richard Buckner and Patty Griffin, and has (erroneously) been known as Remember ever since.

I chose the title Remember for my video, simply because it seems more appropriate for my thoughts and intention. 

Wednesday, February 15, 2017


So, who is the beauty....and who's the beast?

The beauty is the lovely sunset that enchanted me a few evenings ago. I went out on the front porch to capture it with my El Cheapo camera.
Trust me, I don't enchant easily. 

And who's the beast?
The beast is myself, of course. The other day, for no specific reason whatsoever, I took a quasi-selfie (with my El Cheapo camera) on the front porch.

This photo isn't particularly enchanting. In order to capture myself, I had to set the 10-second timer on the camera, then run away (actually, I limped away because of my bad back) - then I had to pose and try to look good - - all in ten frigging seconds.
Trust me - it usually takes a few hours and a generous application of embalming fluid for me to look good.

I'm exaggerating, of course. I'm actually adorable.

Here's something you're really going to like (I jest, of course).
This is an extremely rare piano recording that I made in Los Angeles when I was eighteen years old. It's one of my own compositions - the prelude in D minor, op. 5  #24.

The audio quality is poor, at best, but it's only a minute long. I have no doubt that you'll survive. 

And just to set the record straight - - this was not recorded on an Edison Phonograph Cylinder.....ha, ha.....


Tuesday, February 14, 2017


It's a cold, rainy, dreary Valentine's Day - one of those raw, colorless winter days when you want to crawl into bed, immerse yourself in the blissful shelter of deep sleep, and never wake up until spring.

You wanna win my heart forever?
Just send me a huge box of chocolates (and omit the arsenic, please). I want to eat chocolate until my teeth fall out and I go into a diabetic coma. To hell with love.

I'm suddenly remembering those rainy February afternoons in grade school when we kids were compelled to make hearts out of red construction paper with glued white lace trim around the edges.....

.....and when we were required to bring a stash of those little penny Valentines to school and give one to each of our classmates (and to our teacher, of course). Things were so simple and innocent then. Love was an innocuous word and Valentines weren't gender-conscious.

All the grim realities of "love" start to germinate soon after puberty and quickly escalate into a nightmarish network of agonizing complications during adulthood. 

My first endeavors into the realms of romance were highly idyllic and mercilessly sentimentalized. I was always a hardcore romantic and often paid the bitter price.

When I was eighteen, I fell in love with a preacher's daughter. Pamela was from a Hungarian family that had been close friends with my parents since Pam and I were very small children. My ardor for her grew as we both blossomed into teenhood (I just made that word up).

I eventually wrote her a long letter, declaring my love and strongly hinting at the possible prospect of a future marriage.

Pam responded with a kind but tactful dissolution of my amorous endeavors. She intended to dedicate her heart to the Lord and was too young to consider a serious romantic relationship.

Yea, okay. The bitch dumped me before I even warmed up. Several years later she married. The last I heard, she was a fat old lady with four grown kids.

When I was nineteen, I was (very willingly) seduced by someone ten years older than myself. Let's not go into gender or sexuality. Let your nasty imaginations go rampant.....
This blissful but brief relationship only lasted three months. When it ended I was so devastated that I left California and flew (by plane, of course) to New York to lick my wounds and attempt to recover.

When I returned to California, I went to Hollywood and eventually became a promiscuous slut. The rest is history. I'm not bragging. I'm merely telling it like it was.

So, was I ever in love?
Yes. Hundreds of times.

To be serious, infatuation and lust are most often mistaken for love. True love is something so special and so rare that it might not even be experienced in one's lifetime. Many aspects of the concept of love are psychological....but I'm not Freud so I won't go there.

I have definitely been deeply, unequivocally in love - and no realms of human emotion can be higher or more satisfying. 

The person I loved the most is now dead, but love itself never dies.

Random, useless thoughts on a rainy Valentine's Day.....

I removed my previous post, Bizarre Valentine Gifts, solely because it was too long with too many photos. It was clogging my blog.
I saved all of your comments (and I didn't get any death threats this time.....*smile*)