The war between the sexes hit its stride before the species rethought its complexity on male female roles. So much so that many human beings were no longer sure of their identity.
As thou the military “don’t ask don’t tell” wrought its havoc with battlefield fatigue and
male chauvinism.
Audie Murphy’s “Red Badge of Courage” Stephan Crane. imagining the hostility between Abe Lincoln’s weary troops and General Lee‘s led rebs.
II
In this parable.... irreparable harm did not manifest itself in the Cornell School of Architecture, nor the construction of Ucla’s Research Library as visualized by A. Quincy Jones, his name resounding with Quincy Jones of the Johnny Green Andre Previn whiz kids at neighboring MGM’s studio..
A. Quincy tapped into his pedigree.
”Names that make America”
III
A visionary planner in the Southern California basin, his reputation exceeded himself to Ithica,
New York and Cornell, where the late Harold Edelman nicknamed his roommate “Quincy” “
No ten minutes of fame but a lifetime of hearing the Bard’s barbs “Thirty lashes with a ‘t’ square.”
Frank Lloyd Wright in his “ An Autobiography” spoke about his plans growing and extending
from nature....
Harold Edelman’s first ranch style home with his wife, Judy at Stony Brook, outside Paul Newman’s Westport.,his wive’s “Three faces of Eve’..Joanne Woodwad.
IV
The London School of standards penalized “batch” professors. Holding back their sterling pounds and shillings. But once old fashioned nuptials and blessings were exchanged, the Deans abandoned Bertrand Russell’s free love for a Bill of Rights and bourgeois bliss
Perhaps our tired planet longs for royalty fever in the ever constant of moral anguish and despair Colonel Khadafi’s foreign minister seeking refuge in London in tune with Prince William’s own nuptials with his “Kate”.
The convolutions of a soap opera ... the monarchy’s cheerleaders stomping on those hallowed grounds of Westminister Abby, tripping down that road.... puts the “King’s speech”
in a bumper crop of afficionados
V
So playing the field is grounded at the graduate level, the A. Quincy Jones’s Harold
Edelmans are recognized for challenging the t squares and modules of their turf,
Their dream list of stipends for their ringed third finger left hand femme profs.
Whether this amounts to an affront for same sex marriages, no one knows the futuro. But for the moment, the space age and its information highway can
join strides in their Easter Parade.
Right A.Quincy? Harold Edelman?
Right.
Ucla’s Research Library, Cornell School of Architecture, March 30 2011.
Things won’t get better until they get worst
“Things won’t get better until they get worst” say the bloger pundits not unlike Walter Lippman Max Lerner James Wechsler and Grantland Rice Jimmy Cannon Red
Smith in sports.. scribbling down to earth themes in defunct Hollywood Citizen News Daily
Bruin... Midwood High’s Argus print points.
Right Joey Rodriquez? Right.
Who would have known that Virginia Commonwealth would have scorched their
final four ride to Ncaa’s “ultimate”...alumni boosters fans going
ballistic.....”standing tall” in Bill Walton’s prime time..
“Nah not me coach. A seer I am not..No crystal ball telepathy here.”
Resurrecting Lee J Cobb’s.’s “Virginian” role. Not settling for anything less than shooting the lights out as they say... the Kansas jay hawks not knowing Senor Rodriquez was feeling it like was Benito Juarez in disguise, hitting the nylon from downtown.
What could the Spider Man say about that feat, climbing the tallest building in the world earlier in downtown Dubai? 160 stories in six hours.
And talking about cyber space , what about reactor 2 spilling plutonium (“contaminated water”)
from the nuclear reactor in Japan’s Fukushima province..shades of Hiroshima and Nakasaki in
then summer of ‘45 ending World War 2.
The chain of causation stemming from the 9 point quake and tsunami .....
Libya’s own 40 years of Khadafi nightmare within the qualms of inevitable disaster.
IV
But even in reliving the dinosaur age, CBS’s “60 minutes” hit a high of empathy, highlighting corporate greed on the planet as elite corporations strive for profit margins by settling in
Swiss and Irish venues.
Yet a 56 year old “Mother Teresa” from Staten Island takes in maimed children from battle worn Iraq and gets selfless peoples people to put their arms legs eye and face back together
V
On a “pumpkin” from the perimeter ,the high school coach Bob Hurley of Saint Anthony’s in Jersey City, lighting it up across the river... 1000 w’s.... with his full court conditioning, his stalwarts going on to college quintets and the NBA....9 thousand $ a year, his frau at the scorer’s table, his 2 sons coaching at the college level. .....
When are you coming home, Michael Jordan?
Smith in sports.. scribbling down to earth themes in defunct Hollywood Citizen News Daily
Bruin... Midwood High’s Argus print points.
Right Joey Rodriquez? Right.
II
Who would have known that Virginia Commonwealth would have scorched their
final four ride to Ncaa’s “ultimate”...alumni boosters fans going
ballistic.....”standing tall” in Bill Walton’s prime time..
“Nah not me coach. A seer I am not..No crystal ball telepathy here.”
Resurrecting Lee J Cobb’s.’s “Virginian” role. Not settling for anything less than shooting the lights out as they say... the Kansas jay hawks not knowing Senor Rodriquez was feeling it like was Benito Juarez in disguise, hitting the nylon from downtown.
.III
What could the Spider Man say about that feat, climbing the tallest building in the world earlier in downtown Dubai? 160 stories in six hours.
And talking about cyber space , what about reactor 2 spilling plutonium (“contaminated water”)
from the nuclear reactor in Japan’s Fukushima province..shades of Hiroshima and Nakasaki in
then summer of ‘45 ending World War 2.
The chain of causation stemming from the 9 point quake and tsunami .....
Libya’s own 40 years of Khadafi nightmare within the qualms of inevitable disaster.
IV
But even in reliving the dinosaur age, CBS’s “60 minutes” hit a high of empathy, highlighting corporate greed on the planet as elite corporations strive for profit margins by settling in
Swiss and Irish venues.
Yet a 56 year old “Mother Teresa” from Staten Island takes in maimed children from battle worn Iraq and gets selfless peoples people to put their arms legs eye and face back together
V
On a “pumpkin” from the perimeter ,the high school coach Bob Hurley of Saint Anthony’s in Jersey City, lighting it up across the river... 1000 w’s.... with his full court conditioning, his stalwarts going on to college quintets and the NBA....9 thousand $ a year, his frau at the scorer’s table, his 2 sons coaching at the college level. .....
When are you coming home, Michael Jordan?
The Big Apple, March 28,2010.
Benny Goodman
Benny Goodman toot tooting his licorice stick in his assault on Igor Stravinsky’s
“Ebony Suite” in a Hollywood recording studio, maestro Stravinsky conducting,
Columbia’s jazz ensemble, 1965
II
Five and a half decades later, coach ‘K’ of Duke University gunning for his assault on Boby Knight’s 903 (w’s) on the pines unlike Benny’s licorice stick, had to reconcile
the “wait till next year” for his“Big Dance” moment de triumphe almost in the same breath, the Husky coach Jim Calhoun in his 25th year at Storrs, captured his moment in admiration and joy as his grinning Kemba Walker (36 points) n his selfless led role stood by.
Alter bench egos and staff hugging each other as their unbeaten playoff Ncaa streak its full court flow rages on..
The surrogate father chewing his spearmint, open collar, tie unloosed. “The best player in America” Kemba Walker ...36 points in the paint and from down town, beaming alongside his maestro.
III
Little did Igor Stravinsky from his 1260 North Wetherly base in Beverly Hills or Wilshire Ebell podium grasp how his “Ebony Suite” would play out his aggressions on musical magicians
some sixty five years down the pike in Anahem...Newport Beach Orange County in its crib-like infancy.
“Oh my God,”he might have recoiled his baton as Ohio State, Kansas, Marquette, the Tar Heels of Roy Williams, Butler Richmond, Virginia Commonwealth, Florida State, Kentucky and Florida await his transitory tempo into the Elite Eight.
The creative and imaginative deceptions of these soulful genies displaying their larger than life
creative juices in the Big Dance’s dribbling flow& passing fast break with Benny Goodman and Igor Stravinsky’s own “Ebony suite”
Hardwood floors of college gyms everywhere, Ucla’s Pauley Pavilion, March 25, 2011
“Ebony Suite” in a Hollywood recording studio, maestro Stravinsky conducting,
Columbia’s jazz ensemble, 1965
II
Five and a half decades later, coach ‘K’ of Duke University gunning for his assault on Boby Knight’s 903 (w’s) on the pines unlike Benny’s licorice stick, had to reconcile
the “wait till next year” for his“Big Dance” moment de triumphe almost in the same breath, the Husky coach Jim Calhoun in his 25th year at Storrs, captured his moment in admiration and joy as his grinning Kemba Walker (36 points) n his selfless led role stood by.
Alter bench egos and staff hugging each other as their unbeaten playoff Ncaa streak its full court flow rages on..
The surrogate father chewing his spearmint, open collar, tie unloosed. “The best player in America” Kemba Walker ...36 points in the paint and from down town, beaming alongside his maestro.
III
Little did Igor Stravinsky from his 1260 North Wetherly base in Beverly Hills or Wilshire Ebell podium grasp how his “Ebony Suite” would play out his aggressions on musical magicians
some sixty five years down the pike in Anahem...Newport Beach Orange County in its crib-like infancy.
“Oh my God,”he might have recoiled his baton as Ohio State, Kansas, Marquette, the Tar Heels of Roy Williams, Butler Richmond, Virginia Commonwealth, Florida State, Kentucky and Florida await his transitory tempo into the Elite Eight.
The creative and imaginative deceptions of these soulful genies displaying their larger than life
creative juices in the Big Dance’s dribbling flow& passing fast break with Benny Goodman and Igor Stravinsky’s own “Ebony suite”
Hardwood floors of college gyms everywhere, Ucla’s Pauley Pavilion, March 25, 2011
Deja vu! Have we been here before?
Deja vu! Have we been here before? Muassolini’s tirade (Jack Oakie) at his compound in the sumptuous fountains of Trevi. His Novella Rome reality scene...the Nato fireflies buzzing the
no fly zone, their ships maintaining an embargo..
II
Colonel Khadafi’s demonaic “Great Dictator” role calling on all Arabs globally to wage an Arabesque...a counter offensive on the Aryans.....their pitiful small mindedness ro take out our
Jack Oakie clone like imagery..
“ How dare them? I challenge their Churchillian dialectic.! Didn’t his mother hail from Brooklyn Heights.”an ethnic turf at Montague and Court environs.
III
Let us rethink the Fuhrer’s tongue lashing out from his Eagle’s Nest These venomous Aryans and their Nato allies attacking air sea and land. Forty years of power gone up in smoke like I ws living a nightmare.
“Give me a break, Fuhrer. Wasn’t it your idea of railroading the ghettos burning their books in kristalnacht? The concentration camps. The Hholocaust ....trashing six million minion FDR and Sir Winston’s lips were sealed, Fraulein.....”
“Your Gestapo storm troopers suspecting the ‘1630' historical landmark on Dusseldorf’s Mertensgasse....numero 6....for their opposition to our dominating the planet ....grinding their vermin into ashes..
IV
“Another grape, fraulein........you’re a beauty like Elizabeth Taylor....she passing at 79....a do gooder alll her days...8 husbands and twice to”The Robe’s” Richard Burton. The pits and coal mines of Wales.....no illusions into her God like symmetry.
“A big souled woman, Two Oscars living out her own dream. Behind those Bel Air gates and Belagio Road. Stone Canyon Road. Bel Air hotel and golf course... Sunset Boulevard Saw all her flicks in my forty years.....living out my own destiny. Not maintaining a low profile.
“Believe me, fraulein......I told Colonel Stoopnagel not to fly into the no fly zone. The Arayans on land sea and air. But we will n ot submit. Nevah.”
Elizabeth Taylor’s passing, a youthful.”National Velvet”
March 23, 2010...
no fly zone, their ships maintaining an embargo..
II
Colonel Khadafi’s demonaic “Great Dictator” role calling on all Arabs globally to wage an Arabesque...a counter offensive on the Aryans.....their pitiful small mindedness ro take out our
Jack Oakie clone like imagery..
“ How dare them? I challenge their Churchillian dialectic.! Didn’t his mother hail from Brooklyn Heights.”an ethnic turf at Montague and Court environs.
III
Let us rethink the Fuhrer’s tongue lashing out from his Eagle’s Nest These venomous Aryans and their Nato allies attacking air sea and land. Forty years of power gone up in smoke like I ws living a nightmare.
“Give me a break, Fuhrer. Wasn’t it your idea of railroading the ghettos burning their books in kristalnacht? The concentration camps. The Hholocaust ....trashing six million minion FDR and Sir Winston’s lips were sealed, Fraulein.....”
“Your Gestapo storm troopers suspecting the ‘1630' historical landmark on Dusseldorf’s Mertensgasse....numero 6....for their opposition to our dominating the planet ....grinding their vermin into ashes..
IV
“Another grape, fraulein........you’re a beauty like Elizabeth Taylor....she passing at 79....a do gooder alll her days...8 husbands and twice to”The Robe’s” Richard Burton. The pits and coal mines of Wales.....no illusions into her God like symmetry.
“A big souled woman, Two Oscars living out her own dream. Behind those Bel Air gates and Belagio Road. Stone Canyon Road. Bel Air hotel and golf course... Sunset Boulevard Saw all her flicks in my forty years.....living out my own destiny. Not maintaining a low profile.
“Believe me, fraulein......I told Colonel Stoopnagel not to fly into the no fly zone. The Arayans on land sea and air. But we will n ot submit. Nevah.”
Elizabeth Taylor’s passing, a youthful.”National Velvet”
March 23, 2010...
Fort Hamilton garrison’s twinkling dream..
Fort Hamilton garrison’s twinkling dream.. Revisiting Passover&Easter 2003... 8 years later
“But what about the grub?” Would the maestro hailing from Southern Italy have a predilection? A bias?
Wasn’t he into the Monteverdi Donizetti Rossini Verdi permutations & scores? Hearing the great Caruso
storm those cluster of notes like Custer at Little Big Horn.
Could he nurture the moment, squeeze the juice out of its ephemeral ness, Time playing out in the infancy
of our .21st Century. Capturing them, from the time he popped out of his mother’s womb, the umbilical
cord spelled CHORD….….his mind’s eye into……..
History dictates its own menu in this Heidelberg castle like reality : Spudnik the space walk 3 disasters the Mir hookup....Libva Afghanistan Iraq ‘Nam Korea World War 1 World War2, the Spanish American struggle.., War of 1812 .
June15 1825....The Fort Hamilton garrison: .its modus operandi guarding the Harbor from the likes of pirates mercenaries gun runners terrorists on the quick for the Governor’s.Island of Mahican Indians, bartering their acreage for Peter Stuyvesant’s 24 dollars worth of trinkets beads and jewelry .
Those military camps that spawned GI kitchens…”Seconds Sarge?”, the adrenalin pumped up chow hounds….in their pre Baghdad Fort Dix’s basic training, reinventing their personas on the mess hall lines
Croissants pumpernickel ends sour dough bread slits of butter eggs over easy French toast cheese blintzes pancakes ice cubed orange juice in goblets. Decaf coffee, pastries, cookies…fruit salad jello Salmon lox rice pasta. .the salad bar of tired boring cauliflower beets cucumbers lettuce tomatoes broccoli carrots ,onions..
Sir Francis Bacon, the Bard’s scribe out of the Midlands into Olivier’s Old Vic, along the Thames docks…hams into their roles, robust capers of “The merry wives ..”
Tear Doll sheet for outlaw sex before the sexual revolution….
Paris’s left bank: masculinity’s strongest refuge The deux et maggots? The attic of the Grand Hotel of France on Vaugirard….the wholesale market….….
The “Second Sex” of deBeauvoir ... Simone Simone’s “gig”…, Crazy Horse Lido Josephine Baker’s “Folies Bergere” Chevalier’s .”GiGi, Little girls…...”…, Colette scribbling away… passionate Edith Piaf into her longing waif like vocals for Yves Monteau His Simone Signoret’s “Room at the top”
The scents whiffing through those cobblestone streets, the windows open into shafts, distancing the left from the right bank.
The dream like karma below the twinkling of the Verrazano Bridge, spanning Bay Ridge with Staten Island. The festive Easter Parade state of mind gripped the churchgoers at the celebrated three tables ‘Reserved’, adjacent to ‘Pinto’s Mountain’s’.
“To our ladies,” said the James Dunn double of a “Tree grows in Brooklyn”, Mickey Rooney’s boss in Saroyan’s “Human Comedy”. The Mick delivering Gold Star mother telegrams for his manager,
unlike David Sarnoff who spun off RCA, from his Kansas City telegraph yesterdays..
A glass of bubbly held high, the men &their women on their feet, he repeated himself . “To our ladies,” those hearty cheeks, the hair streaked with gray, his shirt open at the collar, beaming an open mindedness. All the way from Cork County, Ireland…Kings County, . Brooklyn, USA
Could it have been Fitzgerald’s “Great Gatsby” playing out .....…..
The sun dimpling through the windows like a Van Gogh swirling of cosmic tone color, a gossamer contrast in space and motion. A Cypress tree against the sky….
Witness to the outside pool and the cannon mounted knolls overlooking the entrance into the harbor…..the British fleet under night’s darkness, slipping into the Dutch of Manhattan..
The Fort Hamilton garrison, the guardian for this North Atlantic reality … its fragile stormy ferocity…. off & on closing,……The Revolutionary War its cause celebre 229 years ago ,General George’s guerilla fighters fresh from the French &Indian war, lightning fluid as the Marines and Army , rolled….Kuwait City-Baghdad’s 17 days ..during the Spring equinox.
Torching their cannonballs from these lofts… a thrust from the flank, thwarting cocky cockneys into their “Treasure Island” sail toward the Brooklyn Heights promenade, vulnerable Governor’s Island..
The ‘Pinto Mountain’s’ table of four had their own bubbly of delirium &euphoria, the Harold preparing himself for a four day regimen of surgical pre testing In his Sherlock Holmes bent, his surgeon had discovered a suspicious like tumor on a kidney, hidden under a rib .He and his team were thinking of grounding it forever…
It’s life aborted by the surgical knives, giving way to a long life for the ‘Pinto Mountain’ and indirectly the memories of the former Officer’s Club Maimonides cancer unit: cat scans, MRI’s, spinal taps, biopsys, chemo, radiation ..Whatever it takes for longevity-a wholesome healthy life style- in this century of the 21st..
Like the Pinto mountain: its roots forever as the Joshua Tree National Forest sentry, 20 minutes from Rancho Mirage, in the Mojave Desert.
“Long live the Pinto Mountain!”
The capping ebbs & tides flogging the concrete pillars of the Belt Parkway, the Easter bumper to bumper traffic, breathing in oxygen for an everlasting moment of Homecoming Prayer.
“To our ladies,” toasted the Irish tenor sounding like John McCormick , his octaves resounding in the sound and fury echoes of our Republic’s first 2 centuries.……
April 19, 2003.. March 21, 2011 the first day of Spring.... the whirling cruise missiles spinning like yo yos
“But what about the grub?” Would the maestro hailing from Southern Italy have a predilection? A bias?
Wasn’t he into the Monteverdi Donizetti Rossini Verdi permutations & scores? Hearing the great Caruso
storm those cluster of notes like Custer at Little Big Horn.
Could he nurture the moment, squeeze the juice out of its ephemeral ness, Time playing out in the infancy
of our .21st Century. Capturing them, from the time he popped out of his mother’s womb, the umbilical
cord spelled CHORD….….his mind’s eye into……..
I
An egg white omelet of cheese: onions red peppers… oatmeal grits. Grits first, oatmeal second for the Easter Sunday brunch? History dictates its own menu in this Heidelberg castle like reality : Spudnik the space walk 3 disasters the Mir hookup....Libva Afghanistan Iraq ‘Nam Korea World War 1 World War2, the Spanish American struggle.., War of 1812 .
June15 1825....The Fort Hamilton garrison: .its modus operandi guarding the Harbor from the likes of pirates mercenaries gun runners terrorists on the quick for the Governor’s.Island of Mahican Indians, bartering their acreage for Peter Stuyvesant’s 24 dollars worth of trinkets beads and jewelry .
Those military camps that spawned GI kitchens…”Seconds Sarge?”, the adrenalin pumped up chow hounds….in their pre Baghdad Fort Dix’s basic training, reinventing their personas on the mess hall lines
II
Croissants pumpernickel ends sour dough bread slits of butter eggs over easy French toast cheese blintzes pancakes ice cubed orange juice in goblets. Decaf coffee, pastries, cookies…fruit salad jello Salmon lox rice pasta. .the salad bar of tired boring cauliflower beets cucumbers lettuce tomatoes broccoli carrots ,onions..
Sir Francis Bacon, the Bard’s scribe out of the Midlands into Olivier’s Old Vic, along the Thames docks…hams into their roles, robust capers of “The merry wives ..”
Tear Doll sheet for outlaw sex before the sexual revolution….
Paris’s left bank: masculinity’s strongest refuge The deux et maggots? The attic of the Grand Hotel of France on Vaugirard….the wholesale market….….
The “Second Sex” of deBeauvoir ... Simone Simone’s “gig”…, Crazy Horse Lido Josephine Baker’s “Folies Bergere” Chevalier’s .”GiGi, Little girls…...”…, Colette scribbling away… passionate Edith Piaf into her longing waif like vocals for Yves Monteau His Simone Signoret’s “Room at the top”
The scents whiffing through those cobblestone streets, the windows open into shafts, distancing the left from the right bank.
III
The enchantment of Joey N &Esther betrothal 7 days prior, at the Hansel & Gretel synagogue in Lincoln Center .his right or was it his left foot breaking the glass under the chupah…..Icing their relationship for better or for worse, slipping the wedding band on her third finger left hand… the Rabbi’s presence of mind, taking the solemn moment into soul searching “From here to Eternity”.IV
The dream like karma below the twinkling of the Verrazano Bridge, spanning Bay Ridge with Staten Island. The festive Easter Parade state of mind gripped the churchgoers at the celebrated three tables ‘Reserved’, adjacent to ‘Pinto’s Mountain’s’.
“To our ladies,” said the James Dunn double of a “Tree grows in Brooklyn”, Mickey Rooney’s boss in Saroyan’s “Human Comedy”. The Mick delivering Gold Star mother telegrams for his manager,
unlike David Sarnoff who spun off RCA, from his Kansas City telegraph yesterdays..
A glass of bubbly held high, the men &their women on their feet, he repeated himself . “To our ladies,” those hearty cheeks, the hair streaked with gray, his shirt open at the collar, beaming an open mindedness. All the way from Cork County, Ireland…Kings County, . Brooklyn, USA
Could it have been Fitzgerald’s “Great Gatsby” playing out .....…..
V
The sun dimpling through the windows like a Van Gogh swirling of cosmic tone color, a gossamer contrast in space and motion. A Cypress tree against the sky….
Witness to the outside pool and the cannon mounted knolls overlooking the entrance into the harbor…..the British fleet under night’s darkness, slipping into the Dutch of Manhattan..
The Fort Hamilton garrison, the guardian for this North Atlantic reality … its fragile stormy ferocity…. off & on closing,……The Revolutionary War its cause celebre 229 years ago ,General George’s guerilla fighters fresh from the French &Indian war, lightning fluid as the Marines and Army , rolled….Kuwait City-Baghdad’s 17 days ..during the Spring equinox.
Torching their cannonballs from these lofts… a thrust from the flank, thwarting cocky cockneys into their “Treasure Island” sail toward the Brooklyn Heights promenade, vulnerable Governor’s Island..
VI
The ‘Pinto Mountain’s’ table of four had their own bubbly of delirium &euphoria, the Harold preparing himself for a four day regimen of surgical pre testing In his Sherlock Holmes bent, his surgeon had discovered a suspicious like tumor on a kidney, hidden under a rib .He and his team were thinking of grounding it forever…
It’s life aborted by the surgical knives, giving way to a long life for the ‘Pinto Mountain’ and indirectly the memories of the former Officer’s Club Maimonides cancer unit: cat scans, MRI’s, spinal taps, biopsys, chemo, radiation ..Whatever it takes for longevity-a wholesome healthy life style- in this century of the 21st..
Like the Pinto mountain: its roots forever as the Joshua Tree National Forest sentry, 20 minutes from Rancho Mirage, in the Mojave Desert.
“Long live the Pinto Mountain!”
VI
The capping ebbs & tides flogging the concrete pillars of the Belt Parkway, the Easter bumper to bumper traffic, breathing in oxygen for an everlasting moment of Homecoming Prayer.
“To our ladies,” toasted the Irish tenor sounding like John McCormick , his octaves resounding in the sound and fury echoes of our Republic’s first 2 centuries.……
April 19, 2003.. March 21, 2011 the first day of Spring.... the whirling cruise missiles spinning like yo yos
over Tripoli.....cities to the East and West... the Libyan desert..
“Hold back the dawn”, March Madness begins.
“Hold back the dawn”, March Madness begins.
Two post office cancellations in auction The White House atop CBS
Chapel Street, New Haven, Connecicut
“Do we hear any bids?”
Two post office cancellations in auction The White House atop CBS
Chapel Street, New Haven, Connecicut
“Do we hear any bids?”
What a sensibility!
What a sensibility! A feminine tenderness in a enduring sendoff to a self made man
who may have been her counterpoint for a quarter of a century.
Her berth and vantage point .. in her role as Danny Siles engineer for twenty five years...a quarter of a century may not transcend the sismic tragedy in Japan.....but the post World War2 era of 65 years captured her attention on FDR’s own March 12 1933 fireside chat....
A quarter of a century as a “d.j” what Martin Block called “The make believe ballroom”: . But Danny Stiles record spinning into his eighties seemed to Annie Bergen of WQXR... a classical
music station taking three- four minutes to acknowledge the impact he had on her odyssey in the musical landscape of radio.
Even as Japan reels in its 65 years...hard to imagine this disaster happening....but the mantra
of Martin Block’s “Make Believe Ballroom” on Sundays was akin to Uncle Don on reading the comics...Mayor LaGuardia chasing fires...Arthur Fiedler with his Boston Pops...
The Jersey born platter maven....an artist in his own right...host of dances in the Big Apple and New Jersey whirled a nostalgia and spell of a magician and his engineer playing out their lives.
Their chemistry and bonding was right out of Hansel ands Gretyl” , Danny Stiles like my father’s own Wbbc weekly radio stint. The Court Street Borough Park tirf.
Esoteric yes but Danny Stiles and Annie Bergen challenged their listeners into a deja vu state of mind...
A “swish” from “downtown” Newark and lower Manhattan.
Long before websites and 50 gigs of memory, Danny Stiles weaved his own web of nostalgia and dance rhythms. Before Bing Crosby, there was the string instruments...the nucleur uranium and their “meltdown”
Jean Goldkette and Isham Jones. Before Paul Whiteman Glen Miller, Duke Ellington the Dorsey brothers. Harry James’s “trumpet” rhapsody.
No crunching of numbers vis a vi his accounting degree but the New Jersey radio caugfht his preordained fate.
.”My mother’s eyes” sung by George Jessel. Connie Francis “My Yiddishe
Momme” Shirley Temple”s “Goodnight my love” at the age of eight.
SophieTucker belting out “Mister Siegal make it legal”
Could she have known that Danny Stiles would endure the 65 years since in his love feast with his identifying fans..
An orbit of some 20 radio stations: Wevd Wnyc Wnsw Wjom Wpat but a few..
He came down on the side of his fans. “Midnight Dan” and the
“The Kit Catt Club”
Subsequent “enchiladas” spinning his “deja vu”.
Wasn’t his passage God’s way?
A seismic consciousness of a Wqxr classical music host giving her own living breathing intelligence on what Danny Stiles’s quarter of a century meant to her career.
How many pilgrimages can find that karma in their “make believe ballroom?”
A post World War2 odyssey playing until Danny Stiles’s exit two days ago.
Transcending the marketplace .not from age 13 but from the time his fans responded to his Saturday night art deco studio and its high mahogany door. Emulating the “Inner Sanctum creaking door and “the make believe ballroom”
Playing his “oldies”... finding his listeners.
An incarnation of “to know is no less to feel”
May his legacy of spinning “oldies” endure forever. To make us more sensitive while the planet
“shakes and bakes”.
Man against nature. Man against man. Wherever conflict and antagonism are playing out their desperate shocks, Danny Stiiles will endure.
“Goodnight dear sweet Barbara,” (his wife) ,the mahogany door closing at his art deco penthouse .
who may have been her counterpoint for a quarter of a century.
Her berth and vantage point .. in her role as Danny Siles engineer for twenty five years...a quarter of a century may not transcend the sismic tragedy in Japan.....but the post World War2 era of 65 years captured her attention on FDR’s own March 12 1933 fireside chat....
II
A quarter of a century as a “d.j” what Martin Block called “The make believe ballroom”: . But Danny Stiles record spinning into his eighties seemed to Annie Bergen of WQXR... a classical
music station taking three- four minutes to acknowledge the impact he had on her odyssey in the musical landscape of radio.
Even as Japan reels in its 65 years...hard to imagine this disaster happening....but the mantra
of Martin Block’s “Make Believe Ballroom” on Sundays was akin to Uncle Don on reading the comics...Mayor LaGuardia chasing fires...Arthur Fiedler with his Boston Pops...
The Jersey born platter maven....an artist in his own right...host of dances in the Big Apple and New Jersey whirled a nostalgia and spell of a magician and his engineer playing out their lives.
III
Their chemistry and bonding was right out of Hansel ands Gretyl” , Danny Stiles like my father’s own Wbbc weekly radio stint. The Court Street Borough Park tirf.
Esoteric yes but Danny Stiles and Annie Bergen challenged their listeners into a deja vu state of mind...
A “swish” from “downtown” Newark and lower Manhattan.
Long before websites and 50 gigs of memory, Danny Stiles weaved his own web of nostalgia and dance rhythms. Before Bing Crosby, there was the string instruments...the nucleur uranium and their “meltdown”
Jean Goldkette and Isham Jones. Before Paul Whiteman Glen Miller, Duke Ellington the Dorsey brothers. Harry James’s “trumpet” rhapsody.
IV
No crunching of numbers vis a vi his accounting degree but the New Jersey radio caugfht his preordained fate.
.”My mother’s eyes” sung by George Jessel. Connie Francis “My Yiddishe
Momme” Shirley Temple”s “Goodnight my love” at the age of eight.
SophieTucker belting out “Mister Siegal make it legal”
Could she have known that Danny Stiles would endure the 65 years since in his love feast with his identifying fans..
An orbit of some 20 radio stations: Wevd Wnyc Wnsw Wjom Wpat but a few..
He came down on the side of his fans. “Midnight Dan” and the
“The Kit Catt Club”
Subsequent “enchiladas” spinning his “deja vu”.
Wasn’t his passage God’s way?
V
A seismic consciousness of a Wqxr classical music host giving her own living breathing intelligence on what Danny Stiles’s quarter of a century meant to her career.
How many pilgrimages can find that karma in their “make believe ballroom?”
A post World War2 odyssey playing until Danny Stiles’s exit two days ago.
VI
Transcending the marketplace .not from age 13 but from the time his fans responded to his Saturday night art deco studio and its high mahogany door. Emulating the “Inner Sanctum creaking door and “the make believe ballroom”
Playing his “oldies”... finding his listeners.
An incarnation of “to know is no less to feel”
May his legacy of spinning “oldies” endure forever. To make us more sensitive while the planet
“shakes and bakes”.
Man against nature. Man against man. Wherever conflict and antagonism are playing out their desperate shocks, Danny Stiiles will endure.
“Goodnight dear sweet Barbara,” (his wife) ,the mahogany door closing at his art deco penthouse .
March 14r, 2010. Lower Manhattan’s “make believe ballroom”
“Henry...Henry Aldrich.....I mean Henry Kissinger
“Henry...Henry Aldrich.....I mean Henry Kissinger. What are you up to?”
Where can he be? His birthplace? Germany? The Bronx? Teaching at Harvard? Bolling Air Force officers club? The State Department? The Oval Office?
A Cairo Egyptian night club “nee North Hollywood’s hoinky tonk”, head lining a belly dancer, that’s where momma. You’ll find Henry, chasing an aphrodisiac.
Those swinging Maurice Ravel’s’”Bolero”hijinks had the former intelligence top dog and Secretary of State tapping his feet. He may not have been Madeline Albright’s soul mate but then again she was appointed by Bill Clinton.
In Henry’s case his nod of approval came from “Tricky” Dick Nixon.
But his role models Cordell Hull Dean Acheson Dean Rusk were in the Anthony Eden mold.
Yet sitting there in this Cairo belly wiggling club, contemplating Colonel Khadafi’s fate..”My son my son” playing out
Khadafi’s sons an extension of their father’s 4 decades of his grip on tribal Arabs. Nothing that Peter O’Toole could foretaste on his camel “Lawrence of Arabia”, a Sam Spiegel David Lean epic.
The belly dancer no longer resting on her hippy hips,”The Bolero” classical energies ,Ravel’s arrangement bringing the body contortions to its culmination. Never having rapport with a belly dancer’s body&soul, it was imposs-iblee for the German immigrant from the Bronx to empathize with the perspiring “Gilda” hanging at the velvet rope, within his ring side vision..
“Princess you’re an exotic flower.”.....extending his hand, pushing out a chair.
“You are exquisite, “he said “Where did you learn all those moves? Not in the Libya no flight zone. I’m sure.”
Speaking in the same fluid motion as her hips “Monsieur. your face is familiar.
“No bull!. But weren’t you the head honcho.....?“Morris Evening High? In the Bronx?/”
“ I knew we met before on the planet” said the beauty as the former bureaucrat calibrated the brelly dancer’s vibes with his own visceral profundities in a”Five graces to Cairo” .
“ Divine providence A smal world,”said the Bronx educated statuesque dancer.
Maurice Ravel never anticipating how his rhythms went beyond the surface.
“A dry martini,” the waiter responding to Henry’s cue beyond trhe velvet rope.
the diplomat extorting his tact.
“Monsieur,” said his guest demurely “What do you think of the no fly zone? Would it instigate a complexity beyond the refugee problem. The Egyptians pouring into Tunisia. Would it not exacerbate the problem. The Rebels retaining Ben Gazi, Tripoli ‘s wagons being encircled by the Colonel’s militia”.
“Tear gas heavy weapons Izzy made machine guns.”
The head master from Morris Evening High before he put his sights on Cambridge, Massachusetts, a mentor for undergraduates. “This lady is a Mata Hari in disguise,”said the former aide to Halderman&Erlichman of Ucla’s fraternity row,campus Gold Key..
“This Bronx educated belly dancer transcends Ravel’s “Bolero”.
Noithing meandering about the orchestration of the movements by this lady’s divine interpretation.
It was all in synch. Big serendipity, neighbor.
A feat which no worldly man no less a Secretary of State could ignore. Not wanting to pry into her Cairo metamorphosis.
“What are you doing here”? He took it for granted this big souled human was stretching her ”You have to lose yourself to find yourself”.
Calibrating her Bronx reality to the riddle of the Sphinx and the pyramids. Who can deny her thrust unto the Pharaoh led Hebrew enslavement reality scene.
Our allies..NATO, nations like Italy, England, Germany, France and sanctions by the United Nations Security Council..Avoid staggering human losses.
“Unarmed rebels ,”said the former headmaster from Morris evening high school.
“Humanitarian cause de profundo.!”
“ But Henry vision didn’t mesh with the “no fly zone”, he said, sipping his martini, the olive spear headed by a toothpick.
”On land at sea, our carrier and choppers thru the canal. But the carnage is a no brainer. The bottom line .”
“Right? Right, neighbor.”
Sharing their drinks like it was ye olde timers day, the aging bureaucrat thinking how this “Gilda like Rita Hayworth rehearsing her wiggling stance.
“I’m ready for my closeup, Henry”
“Reading your mind Professor, I learned my wiggle from my grandmother. She was a starlet six decades ago. Hanging out with Terry Moore. Her ex she said was “Slim” Howard Hughes. Her current boy friend was Glen Davis of Army gridiron fame...Davis and Felix Blachard...does that give you the Joe Friday information highway, Henry?”she asked..
“You come a long way since your granny's yesterdays,” said the former head master, supping his dry martini down to the olive. “But where do you stand on the no fly zone?. Isn’t hat what’s it’s about,” To stop Colonel Khadafi and his “My son my son” in there tracks before mayhem strikes the rebels in Tripoli?”
Henry Kissinger of German immigration ancestry from the Bronx and the American Egyptian belly dancer knew in their souls that time was running out...the seredntipity and the divine presence of the two humans was casting a long shadow on the Libyan rebellion to the east.
Could the belly dancer’s gyrations restore Allah back into the Libyan marketplace?.
Wasn’t that what Henry Kissinger was all about .neighbors?
“En garde..... Colonel Khadafi!”
A honky tonk in Cairo, the air raid sirens blaring in the Libyan distance,
March 4,2011.
II
Where can he be? His birthplace? Germany? The Bronx? Teaching at Harvard? Bolling Air Force officers club? The State Department? The Oval Office?
A Cairo Egyptian night club “nee North Hollywood’s hoinky tonk”, head lining a belly dancer, that’s where momma. You’ll find Henry, chasing an aphrodisiac.
Those swinging Maurice Ravel’s’”Bolero”hijinks had the former intelligence top dog and Secretary of State tapping his feet. He may not have been Madeline Albright’s soul mate but then again she was appointed by Bill Clinton.
In Henry’s case his nod of approval came from “Tricky” Dick Nixon.
But his role models Cordell Hull Dean Acheson Dean Rusk were in the Anthony Eden mold.
III
Yet sitting there in this Cairo belly wiggling club, contemplating Colonel Khadafi’s fate..”My son my son” playing out
Khadafi’s sons an extension of their father’s 4 decades of his grip on tribal Arabs. Nothing that Peter O’Toole could foretaste on his camel “Lawrence of Arabia”, a Sam Spiegel David Lean epic.
IV
The belly dancer no longer resting on her hippy hips,”The Bolero” classical energies ,Ravel’s arrangement bringing the body contortions to its culmination. Never having rapport with a belly dancer’s body&soul, it was imposs-iblee for the German immigrant from the Bronx to empathize with the perspiring “Gilda” hanging at the velvet rope, within his ring side vision..
“Princess you’re an exotic flower.”.....extending his hand, pushing out a chair.
“You are exquisite, “he said “Where did you learn all those moves? Not in the Libya no flight zone. I’m sure.”
V
Speaking in the same fluid motion as her hips “Monsieur. your face is familiar.
“No bull!. But weren’t you the head honcho.....?“Morris Evening High? In the Bronx?/”
“ I knew we met before on the planet” said the beauty as the former bureaucrat calibrated the brelly dancer’s vibes with his own visceral profundities in a”Five graces to Cairo” .
“ Divine providence A smal world,”said the Bronx educated statuesque dancer.
Maurice Ravel never anticipating how his rhythms went beyond the surface.
VI
“A dry martini,” the waiter responding to Henry’s cue beyond trhe velvet rope.
the diplomat extorting his tact.
“Monsieur,” said his guest demurely “What do you think of the no fly zone? Would it instigate a complexity beyond the refugee problem. The Egyptians pouring into Tunisia. Would it not exacerbate the problem. The Rebels retaining Ben Gazi, Tripoli ‘s wagons being encircled by the Colonel’s militia”.
“Tear gas heavy weapons Izzy made machine guns.”
The head master from Morris Evening High before he put his sights on Cambridge, Massachusetts, a mentor for undergraduates. “This lady is a Mata Hari in disguise,”said the former aide to Halderman&Erlichman of Ucla’s fraternity row,campus Gold Key..
“This Bronx educated belly dancer transcends Ravel’s “Bolero”.
Noithing meandering about the orchestration of the movements by this lady’s divine interpretation.
It was all in synch. Big serendipity, neighbor.
VII
A feat which no worldly man no less a Secretary of State could ignore. Not wanting to pry into her Cairo metamorphosis.
“What are you doing here”? He took it for granted this big souled human was stretching her ”You have to lose yourself to find yourself”.
Calibrating her Bronx reality to the riddle of the Sphinx and the pyramids. Who can deny her thrust unto the Pharaoh led Hebrew enslavement reality scene.
VIII
Our allies..NATO, nations like Italy, England, Germany, France and sanctions by the United Nations Security Council..Avoid staggering human losses.
“Unarmed rebels ,”said the former headmaster from Morris evening high school.
“Humanitarian cause de profundo.!”
“ But Henry vision didn’t mesh with the “no fly zone”, he said, sipping his martini, the olive spear headed by a toothpick.
”On land at sea, our carrier and choppers thru the canal. But the carnage is a no brainer. The bottom line .”
“Right? Right, neighbor.”
IX
Sharing their drinks like it was ye olde timers day, the aging bureaucrat thinking how this “Gilda like Rita Hayworth rehearsing her wiggling stance.
“I’m ready for my closeup, Henry”
“Reading your mind Professor, I learned my wiggle from my grandmother. She was a starlet six decades ago. Hanging out with Terry Moore. Her ex she said was “Slim” Howard Hughes. Her current boy friend was Glen Davis of Army gridiron fame...Davis and Felix Blachard...does that give you the Joe Friday information highway, Henry?”she asked..
X
“You come a long way since your granny's yesterdays,” said the former head master, supping his dry martini down to the olive. “But where do you stand on the no fly zone?. Isn’t hat what’s it’s about,” To stop Colonel Khadafi and his “My son my son” in there tracks before mayhem strikes the rebels in Tripoli?”
Henry Kissinger of German immigration ancestry from the Bronx and the American Egyptian belly dancer knew in their souls that time was running out...the seredntipity and the divine presence of the two humans was casting a long shadow on the Libyan rebellion to the east.
Could the belly dancer’s gyrations restore Allah back into the Libyan marketplace?.
Wasn’t that what Henry Kissinger was all about .neighbors?
“En garde..... Colonel Khadafi!”
A honky tonk in Cairo, the air raid sirens blaring in the Libyan distance,
March 4,2011.
Unlocking the murderous wrath of the Minotaur while taxing
Unlocking the murderous wrath of the Minotaur while taxing the dissembling Oracle of Delphi in the guise of the Athenian Prince Theseus..
Who was to know the match up.... Minotaur’s horrofics would be aghast at the heroics of what seemed mediocre and stomach growling for a half beast half man. the minotaur....with a small ‘m’?.
The contentious match up .. was not lost in Athens, the King
admonishing his son.....
”If you can win Ariadne from the monster Blinding him in his cesspool, then once you’re on the Agean, unfurl your sails so we will know you’re safe, your Greek soul signaling the monster’s demise.
Remember, Theseus.”
But in the aftermath of the life&death struggle in the labyrinth of the cave where Ariadne was held captive, Theseus darting in and out of the shadows, confusing the beast, abandoning his sword for the knife... dissembling the minotaur’s anticipation...
The Delphi Oracle in the guise of Athenian Theseus bound to liberate Ariadne. Finding her unscathed in the labyrinth.
Ironically as Theseus unboud Ariadne, the minataur’s interior quarrel erupted thru his bloodied mouth, the Prince and Ariadne ran to his boat.
Once on trhe high seas, Theseus lost his grasp of time, captiivated by his own captive, his father not setting the sails ...the King of Athens, took his life..
“The King’s Speech”” in its 21st century guise.
February 22, 2011
Who was to know the match up.... Minotaur’s horrofics would be aghast at the heroics of what seemed mediocre and stomach growling for a half beast half man. the minotaur....with a small ‘m’?.
II
The contentious match up .. was not lost in Athens, the King
admonishing his son.....
”If you can win Ariadne from the monster Blinding him in his cesspool, then once you’re on the Agean, unfurl your sails so we will know you’re safe, your Greek soul signaling the monster’s demise.
Remember, Theseus.”
But in the aftermath of the life&death struggle in the labyrinth of the cave where Ariadne was held captive, Theseus darting in and out of the shadows, confusing the beast, abandoning his sword for the knife... dissembling the minotaur’s anticipation...
III
The Delphi Oracle in the guise of Athenian Theseus bound to liberate Ariadne. Finding her unscathed in the labyrinth.
Ironically as Theseus unboud Ariadne, the minataur’s interior quarrel erupted thru his bloodied mouth, the Prince and Ariadne ran to his boat.
IV
Once on trhe high seas, Theseus lost his grasp of time, captiivated by his own captive, his father not setting the sails ...the King of Athens, took his life..
“The King’s Speech”” in its 21st century guise.
February 22, 2011
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