Swerving Like I’m George Jones, RIP

Back when greatzamboni was farming tabacco and okra- I listened much to this great singer, George Jones- who sadly just left this world. I give you this video,  from the days when 2 minutes 36 seconds was enough for a song to make an impression.

I will miss this voice. A little of Ralph Stanley’s constant sorrow, Hag’s cool hand luke, and Bocephus’ attitude.

Enjoy in peace, and farewell GJ.

Advertisements

How You Can Help Kill Zombies

Good evening-

Great Zamboni has many associates in chai places. One such man is Kirk Ward, actor, beat poet, native of Hollister Ca, bailer of Hay, father of two, husband and holder of good driving record.

zombie

Kirk appears now, after years of beating the star-studded pavement, as head dude in ZOMBIELAND, a TV pilot based on film…

If you, my followers, watch the pilot for free, then VOTE and comment, Amazon will make the pilot with the most votes and support into a series.. Help Kirk feed his children, please DO!

Zamboni once battled an errant Zombie in the jungles of Haiti- poor soul, the sad thing is even when they eat brains (he opened up to me before I slew him with a Bic pen) they feel no pleasure- let that be a lesson to us- when you start to be automatic and feeling-lessless, too habit-formed, then the Zombies win…

https://www.amazon.com/gp/feature.html?docId=1001155581

3rd Non sEquiter

As you may know by now, each Monday I, blindfolded, pick a book off the shelf and open a page and plant a finger somewhere. The I read what the finger has landed on. There are no accidents. Here I go.

I pick up The Presence of the Actor by Joseph Chaikin. In it, there is this quote from Norman O. Brown:

“Open your eyes and look around you. Madness is in the saddle… resisiting madness can be the maddest way of being mad. “

Great Zamboni sees the mad mad world today. I once watched the Boston Marathon, I remember madly muscled men in wheel chairs speeding by me in thunderous packs. I remember skinny runners from deep dark Africa. I remember the gray day and the spectators packed up against the brick buildings.  Even right after the explosions, before it was clear what happened…some runners continued to run, they had to be told to stop.

Our urge to just keep our heads down and keep going- that urge to wear blinders is both worth praise, and also scary. The world is becoming predictable in its madness. Is there some method to it we’re not getting?

 

Finding your Soulmate: Zamboni’s show in New Orleans

On Sunday March 31st, in the home of one SK Dance, a most loyal partisan and commenter/reader of this the blog of myself, greatzamboni, I did my first show in the American South. Though we had to move the audience inside due to a small storm that brewed up as the show was beginning (obviously the devil angry that I still have not left any question unanswered and hence my soul is still my own) the show on North White street was quite epic and many questions were thrown at me such as “what was the first sound?”, “will it be a had hurricane season” and this last one which I will tackle today “What should I do to find my soul mate.”

This was asked by the blond socialite and comely southern belle whom we’ll call PP. Among many talents including decorating her home and throwing parties, PP taught Zamboni much about the Lower Ninth Ward and showed me the re-genesis of life in that area hit hardest by the hurricane of Katrina…

This is the answer I gave:

“Plato wrote several theories of love in the Symposium– one reminds me of your question. Plato had an idea that way back in the beginning, mankind was a two headed, two-hearted sort of Siamese- twinnish creature. But as we evolved, we separated into  individuals. Thus, life becomes a search not just for love, but for literally our other half, our missing twin.

Personally I don’t believe this but it is very neato. Zamboni says this: Finding your soulmate is like trying to grab your shadow. You reach right out for it, grab it, and find you only have air. Nothing. But if you look away from your shadow, ignore it, and go about your business, your shadow is always there following you no problem.

I do not mean our soul  mate is a clingy stalker that will never leave us alone. What I mean is this: do what you love, the money may not follow, but if you are doing what you are meant to do, someone will appear next to you, I promise. Nothing is as attractive as someone passionate about their life and work. Nothing is as unattractive as someone desperately seeking a mate. I checked this out with George Clooney, and he concurs.

NewOrleansBlues

So, do your work, and you will meet someone who shares your passion, eventually. Zamboni is spoken!

But joining an online service doesn’t hurt.

Non Sequitar 2 Harry Houdini

“And at the end of the year, Houdini had to undergo an operation to lance an infected boil on his derriere that had been worsened by the constant pressure from one of the straps on his straitjacket.”

Blindfolded, I picked the book, “The Secret Life of Houdini: The making of America’s first superhero”, from my bookshelf in casa de Zamboni, and with eyes closed pointed to this passage on page 234. This is truth.

Reading further on this page are details of the darker side of the magic of Houdini. The fright of almost not getting out of a butter churn he was trapped into. The time he dived off a bridge with manacled hands and hit his head on a river bottom. The bruises and scrapes and panic behind the simple ooohs and ahhs of his audience.

So what does this non-seq have to teach great zamboni and you all tonite?

houdini1

Creativity is tough. Though the result of it is sometimes magic, the brass tacks of the day to day doing is ugly and picayune like lancing a boil. I guess you have to be genius enough or sick enough to want to padlock yourself in a chest and get thrown off a bridge. As much as Houdini loved the applause, he must have loved overcoming his own fear too. He must have loved to work. I guess that is what this teaches me, the Zamboni tonite- just go to work. Grow a boil, get it lanced, and keep going. It’s a beautiful thought. And like Malcolm Gladwell says, all it takes is 10,000 hours right?