AROUND THE HOUSE

I always like Q &A's so I lifted this one from Myra's blog
It's called Around the House. There's a question for every room.

BEDROOM
What's your sleep schedule?

Sleep? Schedule?? ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha 
I haven't had a sleep schedule since I was in high school. I'm inherently nocturnal and usually get by with as little sleep as possible. Four hours. Six at the most.
Presently, I go to bed at dawn and get up around 9:00 or 10:00 in the morning. Once in awhile I'll nap for an hour in late afternoon.

KITCHEN
Favorite comfort food? 

That's a tough one because it completely depends on my mood. Are we talking snacks?
How about cheese crackers with Cheez Whiz?
Peanut butter on an apple...or on a chocolate bar. Chocolate mint ice cream. Pizza!!! Pizza, any time, anywhere.

WASHROOM
Showers or baths? Bubbles? Bath bombs?

Showers, definitely. I've always maintained that if you take a bath, you're soaking in your own filth.
But
long ago, in California, I used to occasionally indulge in baths - surrounded by scented candles. I can be romantic at unexpected moments.

So - what the hell is a "bath bomb"??
Is that when someone blows a fart in the tub and unexpected bubbles surface?  

CLOSET
Sum up your style in a few words.

Disaster. Not nearly enough space. My house in Texas had huge walk-in closets. Here in the Tennessee boonies my closets are cramped.  

PARLOR
Favorite party or board games?

First of all, I haven't heard the term "parlor" used since F. Scott Fitzgerald was courting Zelda Sayre.

Party games? How about strip poker?
Actually, I haven't played a board game since I was a kid. I loved Monopoly, Why?, and Clue.

LIVING ROOM 
What do you like to do with your family?

A challenging game of Russian Roulette.
.....but seriously - I like to entertain my cats. And they love to drive me crazy.

DINING ROOM
Special occasion food?

Heck, I haven't had a "special occasion" since the Suffragettes were marching in London.  
Can't think of anything clever for this one. Perhaps steak and champagne.
Perhaps....

GARDEN
Favorite tree? Flower?

Maple. Oak. Weeping Willow.
Gardenias. White roses. Honeysuckle.

ATTIC
What's one thing you have a sentimental attachment to and you will never throw away?  

I have to get serious here, which I'm very reluctant to do.
The things I cherished more than anything on earth were my diaries and journals (over forty hand-written volumes) and all the piano music that belonged to my mother and grandmother (over 100 manuscripts).

They were among the many items the movers "lost" when I moved to Tennessee.  

LIBRARY
Favorite book genre?

As a voracious reader, I like anything. But my favorites tend to be biographies and memoirs.
And good old horror stories - - not the crap that's written nowadays.

OFFICE
If you could have any job in the world, what would it be?

I'd like to be the Pope.
I could wear crowns, robes, costly jewels. People would worship me, kiss my hand, kiss my ass.

I could molest choir boys.  

Guest Room
Have you been to a sleep over? If so, when was your first? Do you like them?

Depends on whom I'm sleeping with.
He says with a smile.

Actually I can only remember one sleep over, when I was ten.
We stayed over at the home of a boy named Bernie, who was very effeminate. In the middle of the night, Bernie suggested that we should all get naked. In eager anticipation, he suffered a severe asthma attack and had to be rushed to the hospital.

I swear to God, that's a true story! 

FOYER
Do you prefer small gatherings, large parties, or one-on-one meetings?

One-on-one meetings. I guess.

PANTRY
Favorite meal to make?

Hungry Man TV dinner.
Are they getting smaller? One usually isn't enough to satisfy my appetite.  

LAUNDRY
Favorite and least favorite chores?

Least favorite: cooking, washing dishes, cleaning floors.
Favorite (?): dusting, washing windows.

GARAGE
Favorite mode of transportation?
Favorite car?

Rickshaw. Train. Pack mule.

Favorite car is this 1929 Packard. Yes!!!
I'm in love!!!

   
POWDER ROOM
Do you wear make-up? If so, what item can't you live without?

Are you jesting? Hell, I don't need make-up. I need an embalmer.

PANIC ROOM
What was the most nerve wracking experience you've ever had?

I've had so many nerve-wracking experiences that I get panic attacks just thinking of them.
When I was unconscious and almost died from a SEVERE reaction to Penicillin.
When I worked the midnight shift  ALL ALONE with a man who turned out to be a serial killer (no joke - I wrote a blog post about it).
When I came face-to-face with a mountain lion in Nevada.   

My life is worthy of a book. And I'm working on it..... 

    

        
    

 

Hot Hot Hot

Is it hot enough for you, Jon?

No, I like it hotter. I can't wait 'till I burn in hell.

It has been excruciatingly hot with killer humidity. The air is liquid. The 95 degree weather seems cool compared to the 495 degree inferno in the house. The ceiling fans and floor fans are useless. Clothing is optional. I've worn nothing but underwear all week.
Jockey briefs, in case you're curious.

The muggy mornings are heavy with fog.

 The front edge of my property where the road runs by. Or walks by.

It hadn't rained here in four days - which is considered a severe drought in Tennessee. Last night at sunset there was a weird thunderstorm. Mucho thunder but not much rain. The storm intensified the humidity.

 Storm viewed from front porch

I sometimes let my cats out on the front porch to get air. I keep it blocked off so they can't get down the steps and escape (the porch isn't ground-level, it's way up high). 

Just as the storm started, Scruffy escaped (which proves she's feeling better). I initially thought she went back in the house but I couldn't find her anywhere.....

.....so I braved the Biblical bolts of lightning and went outside to embark on an intense feline search. 

It didn't take long. She came running when I called her - wet and disheveled but safe.

Did I ever mention the weeds?

...he says with a smirk....

It's impossible to control them because of the constant rain. They're not exactly weeds. They're more like mega monsters.

You don't believe me? Check these out.

   Two acres of them. Many of the weeds are taller than myself, and I'm 6' 1".

So - despite my bad back and acute lethargy - I took advantage of the recent "dry" days and tackled the weeds. Solo and by hand. 

I only have one tiny lawn mower, which looks like it was made by Mattel. It took one glance at the weeds and hid under some pansies.

I used to have a much bigger mower but one of the wheels was broken so I left it in Texas.

I had absolutely nothing to assault the weeds with but an old rusty pair of shears.

 Every morning before dawn, I went out and assaulted the weeds. The humidity was devastating and - even at that ungodly hour - the wasps relentlessly attacked me.

I somehow managed to chop most of them down to about two feet. Late in the day, when the moisture dried up, I sprayed mercilessly with weed killer. 

 The front part of the property after my first assault.

It doesn't look great by any means, but it's sure as hell better than it was with

six-foot monsters. If it wasn't for the constant rain, I'd eventually be able to get the weeds under control.  

This post is too long. 

If only I could get my blogging under control..... 

LIBERACE WITHOUT ME

For many years I'll Be Seeing You was Liberace's theme song. Personally, I was never particularly fond of the song but I wrote this shoddy arrangement to add to my midnight cafe repertoire (see previous post). It's definitely not one of my best arrangements.
Liberace used to sing while he played this song, which (in my opinion) made the song even more unappealing.
You can listen to my version with the complete assurance that I won't be singing.....
(this is an old recording - - audio quality is poor) 


I was never a Liberace fan. There's something about him that always turned me off. Maybe it was that sickeningly saccharine effeminate stereotypical pansy-boy persona that he proudly exuded.
Maybe it was the fact that someone with minimal musical talent could rake in millions of bucks while true artists were starving. 

I wasn't jealous. Just slightly annoyed.

By the time I was fourteen people were telling me "Wow, you play the piano better than Liberace".

Heck, I thought, I played better than Liberace when I was twelve.
Hey, I'm being facetious. 

When I was sixteen, I saw Liberace give a live performance at the Garden State Arts Center in New Jersey (now the PNC Banks Arts Center).
My cousin Nancy and her (then) boyfriend George took me there. 
BTW, that was the same summer that I had the wild adventure on the runaway horse which I wrote about on a previous post.

Liberace was a fabulous entertainer and put on a spectacular show. It was then that I realized what a fantastic showman he was. It wasn't his musical virtuosity that made him famous. It was his personality and stunning flair for showmanship.

As a courtesy to those of you getting bored, I'll attempt to Fast Forward. 

I was twenty years old: perfecting my musical abilities, and slumming around Hollywood.

A Hollywood insider, whom I met at a club, told me:
"Why don't you send a music tape to Liberace? You're a talented pianist. Besides, you're exactly his type."

His type????

It's no Hollywood secret that Liberace enjoyed collecting Boy Toys. He was always looking for "talent", but most often wound up taking young - and hopelessly untalented - guys under his wing, showering them with gifts, and sometimes incorporating them into his Vegas shows.

It's also no secret that Liberace's sweet, innocuous public image was a farce. He was truly a nice guy - but in reality he was also somewhat of an aggressive wolf and a sexual predator.

Although contacting Liberace initially seemed like a good idea, my second thoughts were weighed down with heavy doubts.

For one thing, I definitely wasn't the Boy Toy type. I loathed Hollywood showmanship. I hated Vegas. And - even though I was admittedly a slut - the thought of ever having sex with Liberace was (to me) beyond the realms of revolting. 

 Liberace....and Me

Despite my misgivings, the encouragement of my friends inspired me to bring a tape of my music to Liberace's agent. 

Seymour Heller's office was on Sunset Boulevard. After reinforcing myself with a few drinks, I went there one afternoon. The grim secretary was a staunch and effective barrier between me and Lee.

"Liberace never accepts tapes from anyone," she told me. 

That was bullshit.

I knew of a young woman who nabbed Liberace after one of his shows. She gave him a tape of her music and he in turn got her a job as a pianist in an Atlantic City casino. My Aunt Ann (cousin Nancy's mother) met her and confirmed the story.

Having no success with Liberace's agent, I decided to contact his brother George. George Liberace had an office on Hollywood Boulevard where he presided over a rather shady music publishing business. To be blunt, I soon found out that George wasn't exactly kosher. He had duped people out of money with false promises of fame, and was in legal hot water up to his nose.

Let's Fast Forward. Again. 

It's several years later. An actor friend of mine invited me to a Beverly Hills party where Liberace was supposedly going to be one of the guests. I could bring a piano tape of my music and present it to him personally.

This potentially golden opportunity suddenly seemed more like a brash and tawdry exhibition. The more I thought about the idea, the more I was against it.

I didn't go to the party.
I missed my Big Liberace opportunity.
Do I have regrets? 

I occasionally think about what might have been.....
but to be absolutely truthful, I'm glad I didn't go. 

There's a lot more to these stories but I drastically condensed for this blog. 

 

MUSINGS ON A HOT AFTERNOON

Sometimes you're really mean, Jon.

I should be. I was taught by masters.

People who know me well, know that my bark is worse than my bite. Sometimes. 
I actually prefer to purr - - but occasionally a bark is necessary.
WOOF! 

Major Tennessee heat wave has arrived. Accompanied by humidity. 90 degrees outside (Fahrenheit). 475 degrees in the house. The luxury of having central air is gone. I now have three ceiling fans and two floor fans.

There were two window air conditioners here when I purchased the place, but I removed them because they're so ugly and cumbersome. One of them weighed about three tons. 

Flashback Summer Photo:

 Keansburg, New Jersey, 1918

The woman on the right is my maternal grandmother Anna. The other two women were friends. 

Flashback Summer Photo:

 Me in a Bakelite pool. That pool was bright yellow and had a blue fish pattern on the bottom. Hopefully the wire hovering above me was for hanging clothes - and not electrically charged.

I remember that day vividly because I was stung by a wasp. The wasp was skimming the water and I foolishly reached out to touch it.

My paternal grandfather was there. He took me in the house, removed the stinger, and put Mercurochrome on the wound.

I must have been way under two years old, because my paternal grandfather died when I was two. 

This story coincides with what happened yesterday. After living in the wilderness sting-free for two and a half years, I was stung by a wasp yesterday. I was out on the back porch and a wasp nabbed me on the right knee. I was wearing shorts.

I only wear shorts at home, never in public. I don't want to scare anyone. I haven't looked good in shorts since I was two or three.

 We've seen that photo many times before, Jon.

Well, you're seeing it again.

I don't have any current cheesecake photos of myself.

The wasps are making nests everywhere around here. I counted eleven of them this morning.

One nest was under the swing on the front porch. I sat out there one evening and the wasps kept attacking me. I pulverized the nest today.

 Scruffy is feeling better and ventured out on the front porch today.

 Scratch (Kitzee) this afternoon, trying to beat the heat.

 I'm presently reading Lawrence of Arabia by Jeremy Wilson. If you can get past the excruciating introduction, you're home free. Only 1180 pages to go.

I keep this volume by my bedside at night. I could easily use it to kill an intruder. 

THE RUSSIANS FORCED SWANS TO DANCE

 
This is my second post on the subject of Russian collusions (and some of you are hoping it will be my last). Lighten up - my sole purpose is to charm and entertain.
BTW
If you're "into" Russian collusions, check out my previous post.

The very first "live" ballet I ever saw was Tchaikovsky's The Sleep Beauty at the Shrine Auditorium in Los Angeles. Rudolph Nureyev was the principal dancer, and he was at the zenith of his career. We had front row seats. 
I was nineteen years old at the time and was accompanied by my very close friend Linda (Linda and I are still close - a thousand years later).

This was the beginning of my ballet mania era. I signed up for ballet classes at college, but then quickly scrapped the idea. I not only had a bad back, I figured I was too old to dabble in dancing.
Besides, you have to be a narcissist to be a dancer...and narcissism isn't on my agenda.

Note:
Every dancer I've ever known vehemently denies that they are narcissistic. I vehemently disagree.

Let's fast forward to a year later.
I took my mother to an ABT performance of Swan Lake at the L.A. Music Center. It was a spectacular evening and I was completely enthralled.

Without ever seeing the music score of Swan Lake and without knowing much about the music, I sat down and quickly wrote a piano transcription of the final act.

It's a shoddy, choppy, haphazard rendition - but it's also very difficult, requiring substantial keyboard virtuosity.  I performed it several times at my college with great success.
And I used to play it everywhere else. In time, it became one of my concert "staples"...an encore favorite.

Nowadays, in grim retrospect, I'm not half as fond of it as I used to be. 
The particular recording that I've posted is old, with poor audio quality.

Anyway, so much for Russia and swans.

Note:
The latest update about Soundcloud is that they  intend to beat the odds and stay afloat.  They won't be shutting down as initially planned.

RUSSIAN COLLUSION

This post is lovingly dedicated to the "FISH".


Okay, I've decided to crawl out of the closet and admit this before someone rats on me and destroys my sterling facade of a reputation.
Well, it's actually a tarnished facade of a reputation.

I have secretly been......let me take a few deep breaths here....in collusion with the Russkies ever since I was fourteen.

That's when I first read Robert Massie's  Nicholas and Alexandra. I was immediately completely smitten by the color, grandeur, and allure of Imperial Russia and - all these years later - it is still in my (Hungarian) blood.

Ever since that long-ago indoctrination, I have been immersing myself in the study of Russian history. Collecting Russian antiques. Acquiring original photos of Nicholas II and the Imperial family. 

As if this revelation isn't shocking enough, I also studied Russian music in college. I participated in many concerts of Russian music.....and performed a Russian piano concerto (Anton Rubinstein's D minor) at Cal State Fullerton.

Hell, I even dated a few Russians in my time.
Well, I'm not sure if picking up that drunk Russian speed skater at the Tiki Hut in Garden Grove was exactly a "date", but that's beside the point.....

Anyway, I'm here to purge my demons by inflicting you with Russian music - -  all performed by ME.
By the way,
Vladimir Putin had nothing to do with it.

This is July from The Months (op. 37) by Tchaikovsky. I thought this was appropriate because......it's JULY!
Sometimes my brilliant mode of thinking amazes me.

Five piano preludes by Alexander Scriabin. Don't let this alarm you. They're all short and the last one is the best. I recorded these in Los Angeles when I was eighteen years old.
Scriabin is one of my ultimate favorite Russian composers. I used to perform a lot of his music.
Audio quality is mediocre.

Note: the third prelude (op. 9 no.1) is written entirely for LEFT HAND. Scriabin had injured his right hand while practicing some music by Franz Liszt - so he wrote several piano compositions for left hand only. 

And last but not least, a prelude by Anatoly Liadov.
BTW
I've heard from a reliable source that Soundcloud is going broke and will be closing up shop in less than 50 days.
I hope this isn't true. What will happen to the music I have on Soundcloud??