Blues and Bach for Easter

I have been attempting to find a mighty fine blues song to celebrate Easter. But, unless your Jesus is a backdoor man, the pickings are mighty slim. Here's something beautiful, biblical, and not even blasphemous.


Bach, handily enough, wrote a legitimate Easter oratorio (BWV 249, for those keeping track), and it is stunning. Here's a taste:

Bach my way

It's a new world; I follow where his fugues go. It's a rather windy road. Along one of those turns, I ran across "Sacred Masterpieces/Cantatas," a 22 CD set of Bach's church music; including the magisterial Mass in B minor and the equally adjective-worthy St. Matthew's Passion. Along with a harpsichord-full of motets, odes, cantatas and the occasional piece Bach would dash off at lunch. 53 bucks. Everyone run out right now. I don't have the money, but I could not resist. Imagine zombie djinn muttering "Bach" when all the other zombies are saying "brains" and looking at me funny.

Never put off until tomorrow what you can do the day after tomorrow. --Mark Twain

Procrastination is one of the delights of life.  How I savor these last few days before taxes are due.  Such a rush!  Some people ski, or jump out of airplanes, or surf; I get all that fun and more by waiting until the last minute.  Plus, no special clothes are required.

Favorite activity while procastinating? Either daydreaming or listening to "Daydream Nation". If I'm feeling particularly driven, I may do both simultaneously, not to brag.

Thomas Jefferson believed in progressive taxation.

‎"Another means of silently lessening the inequality of property is to exempt all from taxation below a certain point, and to tax the higher portions of property in geometrical progression as they rise." --Thomas Jefferson to James Madison, 1785.

Where did 'Exile on Main Street" come from? Choose me for the answer.

Those bad Stones.  I truly love Exile; Mick, Keith and the rest started as a blues cover band, where they basically covered, almost note for note, blues standards.  Then, they magically transformed; they somehow created their own sound based on the great blues singers, but still their own--much of Exile has a definite Son House vibe.   Listen.  Don't get me wrong, I listen to "Exile" about as much as I listen to Son House.

Warning, flash flash, (bad scary graphics)  don't make the mistake of listening to Keith Urban covering "Tumblin' Dice" on the Jimmy Fallon show.  Unless you want a serious Migraine.  Not good.  Green Day rocked the joint with "Rip this Joint."  Hard.  I especially loved the rewritten (or not quite remembered) lyrics.  (Geebee corrected me on the spelling of that song; thanks, sweetheart; plus how stupid of me; i've only listening to this song since it came out when I was 14.  I blame rock and roll.  Or me.  You choose.)

"I didn't know I loved her, until they let her down."  I can't speak for everyone, though i'd dearly love to imagine I could; but this sounds to me like humanity in 10 words.

Utah Smith: One More Off-The-Rails Blues/Gospel Musician

Who woulda thunk with a name like that? And he wore wings! Honest. I have totally drained my spending money budget (darn that Amazon one-click feature.) But just give this a listen.

More Transcendental Trance Gospel

The Rev. Charlie Jackson (on edit; I got him confused with Charlie Patton, a different blues singer from a different era) is, criminally, only represented by two songs on all of the wormhole into the universe that is Youtube. Here he is singing, in England, a song that perfectly intersects the 'dirty blues' and gospel. Listen for the fishing line references.

Also, please point and laugh at the suit the host of the show is wearing (could he have chosen a worse color for his skin tone? I think not--he looks like a unaccountably pasty banana.) Cringe along with me at the deeply condescending comments from the host that the good Reverend answers with such kindness and grace I'm planning on watching the early painful part as a lesson on how to be a better person. But wait! The music!

Video of The Rev. Louis Overstreet! Trance Gospel.

I can't believe someone posted this footage of the good Reverend playing at church.

You have to understand; his band consisted of him on baritone, bass drum and electric guitar so organic the music sounds like an intregal part of him, with his four sons on various percussion instruments. See the little kid on washboard, that's his son. When not in church, the five of them would plug into a bar and play out front in their choir robes. It's the only trance-gospel I've ever heard, and I find it entrancingly alluring. Listen. Be happy. Did I mention I'd totally go to his church? In an instant.



Just a dash more of the Reverend to take us out; no video this time--I'm thrilled there's at least a bit.

My Idea of Heaven

Old black men sitting around on fluffy clouds playing the blues.

Listen to this first; it's Son House singing "My Big Mama," rewritten endless times; sorry no cool video version available on the not-quite-as-magical-as-I-thought internets.

Now, the father of delta blues; don't mind the static.


And one more:

How to play a guitar solo

I must admit that George Harrison isn't my favorite beatle. Actually, my favorite beetle is the Scarab Beetle, but be that as it may, Prince plays the shizzle (please take notice that I'm trying not to swear) out of the solo on (eeek! can I even speak the name?) 'While my Guitar Cries In Fright', or something. Amazing solo; amazing outfit. Plus you must check out Dhani Harrison in the background, just 'cause he's so freakin' good looking.

I suggest (strongly) that you ignore everything until about 36 seconds in, when Prince appears magically (I suspect a Tardis in the near vicinity.) Also notice Prince throws his guitar up at the end of the song and it never descends. Magical powers, I tell you.

I'm so glad

Life's been kinda tough of late, but there's still beauty in the universe. I got to ride in a Ferrari (i'm not convinced it's actually a vehicle, more like a work of art) and I found Skip James' original recording of "I'm so glad," pretty generally considered one of the most difficult guitar songs ever recorded. Plus, it's pretty. Cream, poor boys, used Skip's much simpler 1960's recording for their hit. Take that Eric. Actually, the royalties from the Cream cover allowed Skip James to live out the few remaining years of his life in relative luxury for the very first time in his life. Thank you, Eric Clapton, for your basic decency.

When I listen to Skip James' music (a regular occurance), I'm slapped in the face by his intelligence and humbled by his life story--he worked, essentially, this astonishing musician, as a laborer, until pretty much the end of his life.

I have it easy.

In a Danish Graveyard

(Left click on images to see clearly.)Thinking about the Day of The Dead traditions this year reminded me of some pictures I took in Denmark last year. I saw a small rural church while driving eastward from Kalundborg to Roskilde, and I really admired the way the grave sites were designated and maintained there. Rather than having a grassy field with tombstones, the area around the church was partitioned into little plots by evergreen hedges. The individual plots had decorative plants and sometimes a stone marker. It was really quite lovely-----the perfect spot to enjoy a contemplative interval thinking about one's deceased loved ones.



The church was beautiful too.....

Pumpkin carving is an art

My inestimable brother-in-law carved this pumpkin of him, my dear sis and my two most charming nieces. A round of applause, please.

A Hundred Year Old Dance Reinterpreted

New lighting technology and color film allow the artist's original intentions to be more fully realized. In the original film from 1896, each individual frame had to be painted with color allowing the colors to shift over the course of the dance.

On the other hand, in the new version, the need to stay directly over the light source inhibits motion. I'd say the trade off is worth it seeing as how most of the motion is really about the swirling fabric catching the light. In the original, Fuller does not move around much either. The costume uses about 25 yards of white silk.



The new version is performed to the piano music, Night Winds, composed by Charles Griffes around 1913-1916.

RIP John Martyn

John Martyn was a very good friend of Nick Drake's, who didn't die young. But yet, the world has lost his beautiful voice. I must confess that I love his music. I must also confess that this allows me to put off posting something substantial about the total mess we're in now. Everybody altogether "Torture B A D." "Healthcare G O O D." Thank you. As a reward, the following clip. PS. Don't be lulled by this beautiful song--layers upon layers of complexity with just a guitar and a voice.



One more, to make no mistake (hee hee.)


I guess I'm at that age where all my favorites are dropping like ever-so-musical two winged creatures. Makes me worry. But still, such beauty.

I Think I'm In Love!

And not with the bald idiot.

Stewart does an absolutely bloodthirsty evisceration of this buffoon after a week of built up anticipation. (Notice how much Kramer's voice gets higher and tenser as he sees his career going down the toilet just like Tucker Someone-or-Other's {John Stewart did him in too, a long time ago.}. Hee hee!)

We are going to need a word to describe Kramer's abject devastation-----like "Borked" (for what happened to Bork). Too bad his name is too common.

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Jim Cramer Pt. 2

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Jim Cramer

For people who want more, you're in luck. But there's even more, the beginning of the kerfuffle from earlier in the week. Boy, this really is right up my alley!

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Basic Cable Personality Clash Skirmish '09

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Jim Cramer

Charo says "Happy Valentines," sorta

Love (fringe, bongos, more fringe, and a few extra bongos) will keep us together.



Now you know the secret. Pu-pu-di-do.

So, what's spinnin' with Djinn?

As you may remember, I've been suffering from some strange, undiagnosed dizziness, nauseous, vertiginous, exhausting disorder that a veritable raft of supposed medical personnel have been unable to sort out. I've been to one GP (numerous times, wonderful), two ENT's (take your pick, either ear nose throat DR's, or for extra spelling points otolaryngyologists (or something, too lazy for spell-check, besides I blame all those wanker 18th British Oxford-educated gentry totally obsessed with Greek, so we don't have an actual English word--misspell ho!))

Anyway, they both sucked. One diagnosed me with BPPV (Benign Paroxymal Positional Vertigo), let's call him Physician not so bad and the other (Let's call her Physician You Totally Suck) diagnosed me with nothing, after running a gazillion tests that made me sick as a very sick dog--never quite understood this metaphor.

After weeks of begging, crying, harassing phone calls, ineffective voodoo doll treatment and general hysteria, Physician You Totally Suck transferred my records to a Neurophysicisian of her choice. She worse than totally sucked and decided that I had silent migraines. I have not had a migraine constantly since Nov. 2007. Really. However, I listened (what was I thinking?) I tried her anti-migraine medicine for three weeks, (in spite of my rather horrific history using such substances) but as can be expected, such meds just kept making me sick so I threw it, and her credibility away.

Now, if you haven't been following this story from the beginning, I've been constantly dizzy (constant as in all the time) since a serious attack of vertigo in Nov. 2007. Yet, I kept on dragging myself to work every day, working hard enough to actually make a small bonus. But, every day was horrific. Dragging myself out of bed, walking (by closing my eyes and feeling my way down the hall) to my office, leaving once a day for a bathroom break (same procedure) Why? Fluorescent lights make me very ill, etc. Sometimes, I couldn't work for one or two days at a time. I'd spend them in bed. So happy. Then back to work furiously to make up for the lost time.

You have to understand, I had no diagnosis. I couldn't quit work, or go on disability, because.... uh, the medical establishment said there was nothing wrong with me in spite of my obvious agony. Fun times.

I received, in late November, my yearly approval rating. It was both horrible and strangely good. My main boss said that objectively I had performed superbly (which they found deeply confusing and didn’t seem to give much credit to), but in every subjective measurement I sucked. Of course. I was too sick to go to the bathroom, let alone spell. In their defense, I’ve now read some of the work I did when extremely sick, and it does not shine with the light of stellar intelligence. However, under all the grammatical and spelling errors, the logic is correct, hence, the success. I understand their confusion. They have been nothing but decent since my diagnosis.

Anyway, my most dear and sweet boyfriend, and Fiancee, George, discovered that the leading specialist on inner-ear disorders lived in Portland. Dr. Epley. Why didn't anyone of all the specialists I talked to even bother mentioning him? A question for someone much more intelligent than myself.

I immediately called the Epley clinic up, was quizzed for 20 minutes by a nurse of his, and was given an appointment for Dec. 11, 2008. The last day I was able to drag myself to work was Dec. 3. Miracles of Miracles, he gave me a diagnosis on Dec. 11th, and I was able to get disability. What happened? I fell down a flight of stairs Dec. 2004, and gave myself an inner-ear concussion and bppv (benign positional paroxymal vertigo—don’t ask, except to notice that the word “benign” could not be more incorrect.) Even though head trauma is a leading cause of vertigo, did any other physician ask me about same? That would be no. What?

By the time I quit work, all I could do is sleep, lay quietly in bed, and fail to keep down liquids. A couple more weeks, and I would have been in the hospital for dehydration.

Unfortunately during my appointment, sweet, sweet brilliant Dr. Epley took my nausea meds away and for some reason, did not give me a replacement.

My next appointment is Dec. 22. I am so excited!!!! However, an ice storm swoops in Dec. 22, closing the entire city, including my Dr's office. I cry. They fit me in Jan. 15th. I deal, lying in bed mostly.

Jan. 15th comes around, I show up at his office and am sent away as being too sick. !!! What!!!!!????? I told him and his nurse that I was ready for whatever they wanted to do, but I must have been that lovely shade of Wayne's world "I'm goona hurl!" green. I blame popular culture for not getting my treatment. However, I am given nausea meds. Yeah!

On the 23rd of Jan, 2009, finally, things started happening. It was like astronaut training, they stuck me in this special chair to treat my BPPV. They swung me to the right, to the left, upside down several times, put some shaky device on my ear; quite a thrill. This fixed my left ear. I'm now scheduled for Feb. 16th to treat the right ear for inner-ear concussion. My Otolith organ (it tells my body my orientation in space) is inflamed and giving random, yet always incorrect info to my head about my balance. The body sees (we are such odd spindly organisms) not falling over as perhaps the most important function it can perform. As my ears have failed me, my eyes have taken over.

What does this mean? Well, my cerebrum, usually used for functions such as speaking, thinking, short-term memory, and figuring out patent applications, is spending all of its cycles keeping me upright. Fun. Or just lying down, I get disoriented lying in bed—I fall behind my eyes even though I can feel my body on the bed. Can’t convince the head that I am safe and sound.

This wouldn’t be so bad, but the vertiginous effects are always accompanied by panic attacks. My heart goes pound pound pound; my head goes eek! My fight or flight response goes into red alert (I’ve been trying to talk it into orange, so much my style, but no such luck.)

On the 16th of February, some magic substance is to be titrated into my right inner ear. If it works, dizzy (actual) no more though I claim metaphorical dizziness as my right.

Love, Djinn

An American Horror, An American Hero.

This Human Rights Watch report details how he US has killed just about 100 detainees in custody in the "War on Terror." Even under the liberal standards of the Bush administration, if a man is tortured to death, it's torture.

How bad has it been? Glen Greenwald writes today about how a prosecutor at Guantanamo (and a bronze star receipient) was so disgusted by the nonexistent case against his teenage detainee (sample detail--after "brutal and continuous abuse" the kid signed a confession in a language he didn't speak)that he first demanded that the kid be released, and then resigned in protest.

Pres. Obama, according to the New York Times, will sign an executive order today closing Guatanamo cites and secret CIA Prisons. It's a start.

Think Big, Knit Small

I just can't get over the detail in the sweater with the ocean scene, around t=1:20. (I wonder how often she stabs herself with those needles------I know my fingers would be sorer than a diabetic's.)

But for small knitting projects with a lot of impact, it's hard to beat these.