Wednesday, January 2, 2008

is there no bob hope that the george burns on the lucille ball of my foot will heal?

back to work today. p asked me "do you remember roman polanski, the film director?" another time, he randomly said "robert goulet. he died last year." i explained that my mom saw him on broadway in "camelot" with richard burton. p, understandably so, lost interest quicker than a life's savings in the crash of 29.

i don't mind my job. it could be a lot worse. however, just knowing that i have to be anywhere pisses me off. i want to be able to call the shots when it comes to how my time is spent.

watched "mingus live in 64" last night. it was incredible. in fact, it was so amazing that i just ordered it from a dealer in hong kong. i met this dealer while sitting on the dock of the ebay. while i was redding the amazon items he had for sail beond the sea, including a cd of billy ocean's greatest hits, i decided to grab the mingus. the mingus dvd is 2 hours of pure joy. eric dolphy is featured throughout. man, what that band could do. luckily, for us jazz nuts, the jazz icons series has produced close to 20 dvd's so far. i can also vouch for the art blakey from 1958, which featured tremendous lee morgan, particularly on "i remember clifford." that's brown, not ray. if you must know, my puns must always be the center of attention. if this blog is going to move forward and be on point, i will have to guard against their overuse. i am shooting for a different style of writing, a style with a power all its own, and i will not leave you, my reader, malone, until i find it.

i meanwhile, am going crazy (gotta get you out of my mind) requesting these jazz dvd's from various local libraries. thank g-d for libraries, the one institution that the cyborg vanguard will leave standing. i don't mellish having to destroy things, but our current institutions can not leave their marx on our future nirvana.

my ike quebec cd is the thing with leonard feather liner notes.

i don't care what anyone says... that film "burn" with marlon brando was terrible. i know it was done by the same guy that did "battle of algiers," but sinatra did new york new york, and that sucks too.

why was i bourne? what's my identity? please help me get off the matt on this damon. don't take this as an ultimatum. it's just a word to the wise. i don't have a chip on my shoulder. believe me, i'm a layed back guy. i don't have a sour personality, although i am tired of hearing booker t and the mg's version of green onions. furthermore, i could do without anything by cream, and i don't have any room for barry white either. i would rather lie on the pendergrass and listen to a chicago bears game with my friend teddy. but who listens to what i have to cey, ron? who tickles me, pinko?

what a laugh life turned out to be. i am having a lot of pun, except when i hear johnnie ray sing "cry."
ok, i'll show some mercy mercy me, because i know this can't be a gaye time for you to read this. so, i'll make the supremes sacrifice, and stop in the name of love.

and, i'm hungry too.

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