Broke a linking ring last night

Just need to start, don’t think, just write. Lots of things to write about. . .. so. . fucking start already.

Last night an exercise in uselessness. Just couldn’t seem to make the money appear. Plenty of people, plenty of shows. . . not a lot of cash. On the front lines of the economy, I’m feeling the pinch. Couldn’t sell a deck to save my life. Then that feeling set in where I start to turn on myself and my audience. The shit that comes out of my mouth, I can’t take back. I dismissed several audiences last night. I told them it was for good behavior, but that was far from the truth. Actually that’s not what I said to them. In one show in particular, there were several attempts to get the audience to lighten up a little. I’m looking for smiles, looks of wonderment, or maybe even a little applause if they like something. . . not too much to ask or demand. . . I think. I looked at my audience and thought how emotionally bankrupt they all looked. Like they were sitting at home, emotionless staring at the TV. I did the Mental Deck Pitch and quickly dismissed them, apologizing for the lack of love I was feeling from them. For whatever reason, this is when things get real interesting. Not one person moved, it was nuts. I had to clarify and said, “You guys don’t seem to understand, I was auditioning for an enthusiastic audience and you guys didn’t get the part. . . . but thanks for playing.”

Then the evening goes from bad to worse. While I’m performing the linking rings, I break one. I didn’t even notice, but a guy behind me pointed it out and laughed as he yelled, “You broke it!” I didn’t know what he was talking about until I noticed my key ring was hanging in the left land, but wait a minute. . . I have it in my right hand. In an instant I had a strangely existential moment that made me chuckle. Luckily, this was near the end of the routine. I quickly surmised in my mind that there was no way to do the chain of 5 effectively, so I had to end the act without the final display. Linking rings shouldn’t break, I’m just saying.

The most frustrating thing about the evening was the huge crowd there and it being a Friday night. I stuck it out till the end, but it just never came together.

On nights like this, sometimes I feel like a stiff drink. Last night I felt like going to the gym. Is that crazy or what. I texted Polly and she said if I came home, she would walk with me. Sold! Beautiful night, beautiful girl and some epic kissing, for the books.

Life is good whether I come home with a bunch of money or not. Ebb and flow. I’m so lucky and blessed.

Ricky Jay - The Cups and Balls

Jazz Under The Stars • Wynton & Willie at the Hollywood Bowl

The Hollywood Bowl - The Symphony Under the Stars, originally uploaded by zilf.

When we went purchased our tickets for this show (as part of our summer concert series at the Bowl) we thought it was just going to be Wynton Marsalis & the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra. As a huge Jazz and Wynton fan, I've been looking forward to seeing this line up for a while. Then, two days before the show we find out that Willie Nelson had been added as a special guest and that they had a new CD that was just released. All I can saw is COOL! The evening, the air, the music. . . cool. . . cool. . . cool.

Life is good when, you're with your sweetie with great seats at the Bowl. The Hollywood Bowl allows you to bring in food and booze. We enjoyed a healthy Wolfgang Puck's Chinoix Chicken Salad as well as some cherry's and strawberries that we had brought from home. Little wine for Polly, little Cown Royal for me. A cigar before the show and we were well on our way to a GREAT evening out.

The show was great. Some of the best jazz I've ever heard. When Willie came out halfway through the show the crowd was enthusiastic to hear these great musicians play together. They did not disappoint! Check out the video below. It says it all.



Sidenote on new CD

The event was simply billed as “Willie Nelson Sings the Blues,” but the historic two-night stand on January 12 and 13, 2007 at Jazz at Lincoln Center was far more than that. Call it a summit meeting between two American icons, Willie Nelson & Wynton Marsalis, two of the most significant figures in modern-day country and jazz, who discovered common ground in their love for jazz standards and the blues. Their performance stirred the sounds of New Orleans, Nashville, Austin and New York City into a brilliantly programmed mix that was equal parts down-home and cosmopolitan, with plenty of swing and just a touch of melancholy. To say that these shows were a hot ticket would be an understatement. Luckily, the tapes were rolling and the results of this unique collaboration now constitute the Blue Note album Two Men With The Blues for everyone who couldn’t cram into The Allen Room.

Busker du Jour • Billy Kidd

Just For Us, originally uploaded by sunface13.

LA Fitness

Daunting, the blank page mocks me. It beckons me to spew my bullshit all over it. It tries to convince me that I have an interesting point of view, but I know better. You see, I spend all day, every day, with myself and find me to be, pleasantly dull and curiously boring.

The page, which really isn’t a page at all (oh, that hurts), fuck it, I’m just telling the truth, your a fucking computer screen. A word processing document. Your not a page, and you never will be (ouch). “Enough!”, my computer screams. It doesn’t matter whether or not I’m a fucking piece of paper, or a God damned million pixels. Write something asshole, lets see you do it. I will when I’m good and ready. Hey I could wait for the laughs, but this place closes at midnight.

For the last 2 days my trusted pal Aaron, Polly and I spent some time at the gym. OK, I’m a fatty, I admit it. In fact I like nothing better than admitting I’m a fatty while stuffing my face with Lays Classic Potato Chips and swilling an ice cold Pepsi. Oh yeah, this always works better at 12:30AM after a bong hit or 6.

Aaron and I have been hiking for months, every morning up by the Hollywood Sign in Bronson Canyon. Now that we’ve created a habit and have shown interest in taking things to the next lever of physical fitness, were committing to weight training. The last two days have been interesting. Aaron has quietly guided me through my social faux pas and continues to instruct me on what not to do at the gym. He did assure me, that if I kept up, I had a good chance of finding a boyfriend.

We pulled and pushed and squatted and grunted. I tell you, there was nothing pretty about this picture. Actually there was, Occasionally I would look across the room and see my doll baby, Polly riding the bike. Not being one who has ever spent any time in a gym, the last two days have felt great and there is a strange sense of reward that goes with the mild pain and soreness. Aaron and I are looking into a weight training boot camp that happens at 6AM in Hollywood. We’ll do that 3 days a week and hump the hill on the other days.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young - Déjà Vu

Ricky Jay likes the hand he's been dealt

URBANELY decked out in sleek charcoal black and unfailingly polite as he submits to a round of questions in the Geffen Playhouse's pre-show lounge, sleight-of-hand artist Ricky Jay can't help but exude a certain impish quality.

Ask him to discuss the David Mamet-directed reprise of his one-man show "Ricky Jay and His 52 Assistants" and you might receive this engaging bit of misdirection:

"I'd like to tell you that in St. Louis they booked me 52 hotel rooms," he says by way of describing the title. "There's some thought that story might be real. Some that it might be apocryphal."

Those costars in question are, of course, Jay's infamous playing cards, the ones with which he can impale a watermelon from 10 paces or summon an unholy poker hand. Pick a card? Sure, but he does so with such extraordinary grace and wit that to say he performs card tricks, dear reader, is to miss the point.

"Tricks!" he yelps with genial mock horror. But in some small way, I fear I may have just broken his heart.

A master conjurer, Jay also has the stage persona of a storyteller known for serious erudition, drolly delivered. The show "is absolutely saturated with history but presented in a friendly way," he says. Each bit, which may make reference to a current street hustle or the 15th century poetry of François Villon, is "like a small play," he adds. "They're orchestrated; they do have plots."

Further elucidation about the particulars of his skulduggery does not seem to particularly appeal to him. But he has brought along something that does. "David Mamet gave me this yesterday for my return to the Geffen," he explains, unveiling a bit of early 20th century signage, a simple black-on-yellowed-white handbill from a Pullman car warning passengers to beware the "Card Sharks" and "Con Men" circling among them.

"I love the line 'have started their winter campaign on railroad trains,' " he fairly chortles. "In all my research in hustling I've never heard of a 'winter campaign.' "

Jay enthusiastically collects such ephemera. Like his own act, these items conjure up a world stocked with hustlers, lowlifes, gamblers and cheaters but that is somehow more honest than the one in which we live. And, as in his act, he communicates this passion with a contagious zest.

Beyond the stage, Jay is also a screen actor and film consultant, as well as a scholar. He advised on the Getty's "Devices of Wonder" exhibition and has curated for the Hammer MuseumFrançois Villon. He also created a standing exhibit on decomposing dice for the Museum of Jurassic Technology. What he's done more rarely around these parts in the last decade is take the stage.

For his show's second L.A. run, Jay -- who won an Obie after visiting New York with his 52 assistants -- has requested a return to the Geffen's petite, 98-seat Audrey Skirball Kenis Theater.

"The ultimate is the two of us sitting here," he says. "I want to come as close as I can to one-on-one, impromptu experience. It's just flat-out better." As a performer, Jay treats his audience with an almost anachronistic degree of respect.

"You know this is going to sound silly, but I think it is a fairly noble profession to bring wonderment and some pleasure, I really do," he says. "Would you prefer to see a great show of mystery or go to a bad doctor? Which does more to serve us?"

By Mindy Farabee, LA Times Staff Writer

'RICKY JAY AND HIS 52 ASSISTANTS'
WHERE: Geffen Playhouse, 10886 Le Conte Ave., Westwood

WHEN: Opens 8 p.m. Wed.; runs 8 p.m. Wed.-Thu., Sat.-Sun.; 8:30 p.m. Fri.; ends Aug. 26.

PRICE: $75-$250

INFO: (310) 208-5454; www.geffenplayhouse.com

slight of shutter, originally uploaded by Gregory Comollo.

Government Mule & Ratdog at the Greek

It's all fun and games, till someone gets poked in the eye.

Sunday night I attended the Ratdog concert with friends: Aaron, Ame, and another magic buddy, Josh. It was a cool evening at the Greek Theater, tucked into the Hollywood Hills up by Griffith Observatory. First time there and impressed with the six thousand seat, outdoor, venue.

Seeing Bob Weir perform was like a visit with an old friend. How I yearn for some of those early 90's Dead Shows. Coming out of an ugly divorce with Cricket I was hanging with Moira in our "not dating" phase. I was gun shy but falling in love and enjoying quite a party. All the Dead shows we saw with Harvey, Ras, Dave & Rob Taylor, Camel Face . . . quite a time and a lot a really good memories.

It was about celebrating joy and music and love. Twirling and dancing and singing and even some drug use if you can imagine such a thing. Crazy kids and their dope. They can do what ever they want as long as they stay off my lawn.

Listening to Bobby sing "Friend of the Devil" brought back memories of being with a woman who I loved very much. I married her, and did the best job I could to make her happy. I accept the fact and the blame of failing miserably. She broke my heart and stole my children.

On this night I felt at peace with the past. I thought of Moira and the happy times we shared. The babies we made. The good times, and there were many.


FRIEND OF THE DEVIL

I lit out from reno, I was trailed by twenty hounds
Didnt get to sleep last night till the morning came around.

Set out runnin but I take my time
A friend of the devil is a friend of mine
If I get home before daylight, I just might get some sleep tonight.

Ran into the devil, babe, he loaned me twenty bills
I spent the night in utah in a cave up in the hills.

Set out runnin but I take my time, a friend of the devil is a friend of mine,
If I get home before daylight, I just might get some sleep tonight.

I ran down to the levee but the devil caught me there
He took my twenty dollar bill and vanished in the air.

Set out runnin but I take my time
A friend of the devil is a friend of mine
If I get home before daylight, I just might get some sleep tonight.

Got two reasons why I cry away each lonely night,
The first ones named sweet anne marie, and shes my hearts delight.
The second one is prison, babe, the sheriffs on my trail,
And if he catches up with me, Ill spend my life in jail.

Got a wife in chino, babe, and one in cherokee
The first one says shes got my child, but it dont look like me.

Set out runnin but I take my time,
A friend of the devil is a friend of mine,
If I get home before daylight, I just might get some sleep tonight.

Django Reinhardt New York City Festival - Dark Eyes

Quote du Jour

"The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom"

- William Blake

Thurston the Magician, originally uploaded by PatriciaElaineKY.

late night ramble

Little bits of my past
are creeping up on me

The things I did as someone else
I want to say I didn't mean to
but I did

Crazy stories of a misspent youth
in search of glory and truth

why I thought I might find it in a lie
is why I die
when I lie
and think
what if
it had been different

if I had been a better person.

Larry Pringle

Pic from the past

Here I am in 1984 with my 74 AMC Hornet station wagon. I bought that car in Boston and drove it to LA. What a piece of shit.

kitchen sink colours, originally uploaded by optick.

Community

People just want to fit in. Feel like they're a part on something. Over the weekend I attended a couple of very interesting performances by a band called "Widespread Panic". They carry the torch of the psychedelic jam band. With shows logging in at three and a half hours, the boys do not disappoint.

The room pulses with sweat, beer and raw energy. It was like out of Matrix 3, know that scene where they all get their freak on, primal dancing with the beating of drums. Crazy eyes as I smile a mile wide. I am no longer in control of my body. I dance to the music, which moves me every which way. To go out of your mind, to another place. Explore parts of your mind you don't usually go.

Youthful energy explodes in the aisles as the poor security staff doesn't quite know what to make of this scene. Shit, I barely know what to make of the scene. All I know, is I'm dancing with wreckless abandon, beautiful women surround me, to my left, to my right, in front of and behind me. I even looked up and staring down at me was another chick in the balcony. Everyone was smiling and dancing. . . hard.

At the set break everyone went outside to puff up. The heat of the day had burned off and the cool downtown LA breeze felt good as we were all drenched in sweat.

Hanging out with friends, feeling alive if not a bit crazy. Life is good at Camp Paradise. Rat Dog this weekend at the Greek then our Hollywood Bowl series begins. The summer is kicking in and the fun has already started!

Party on friends . . . Rock on . . . As hard as you want!

Better than any horror movie, originally uploaded by hartboy.

Panic LA Stlye