Bistro Bijou

[Homburg]

It's cause the instructions for visualBasics I gave couldn't stop looking at your cleavage .

As for jazz, you're missing so much. That genre is like erotica with so many sub-genres that calling it all jazz doesn't make sense. There's cool jazz which is the stuff that's kinda off the wall for me. This is music built off subdominant sevenths and as such always carries tension with it. Many of us can't enjoy the fact that it sounds a little dissonant and mostly doesn't resolve as you mention.

However, I love swing, rhythmic blues, honky tonk and warm jazz, the kind when the sax wails and the trumpets mute all over that smoky bar dance floor. mmm.

So, don't think of it as all jazz that you want to avoid, but maybe put listening to the subgenre cool jazz into the same category as reading stories in an erotica subgenre you can't enjoy; something to be avoided.

Absolutely. I started playing the trumpet in the 4th grade, shortly after I fell in love with the music of Al Hirt. I played through high school and we parted ways. I regret it, but it's not an instruments that lends itself well to contemplative solitary play, or seemed that way at the time. I'f I'd picked up a mute, that would've been a non-issue, but, hey, I was a teenager.

My iTunes library has Glenn Phillips, Fletcher Henderson, Squirrel Nuts Zippers, Louis Armstrong, Royal Crown Revue, Glenn Miller, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, Duke Ellington, etc, etc. My love for jazz bled into a similar love for ska ever since I heard The Special deliver that message to Rudy.

I am a huge music whore (probably obvious by the various genres I've gushed about), but it comes down to music played with passion, art, and soul, and the rest of the details fail to matter. I'm as likely to bliss out from scratchy old blues records as modern gangster bop as metal as punk as two-tone ska (and on and on, 5490 songs in my library and counting). Still, there's always something special about your first love, and that'd be jazz for me.

I really need to go find some Al Hirt. I wore through the two tapes I had. I miss that sound.

I play the cornet and I praise the skill since I've been told I'm a fabulous kisser. As for there being different subgenres of jazz, it's true. I have moods where I can listen to Chris Botti then next I'm annoyed with his sax and rather be kicking it with Nina.

Y'know, I never thought about that. I've been told many times that I kiss well. Perhaps it has something to do with so many hours working that embouchiere (sp?).

My lip is basically gone. I picked my horn up a while back and blatted out a few songs. Wow, painfully bad tone. Maybe I could pick it up again. Tough to do when I remember how it used to sing.

And we had a kid in our jazz band that played cornet. I was always horribly jealous of his sound.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Well I thought I'd be gone all day at a gem show but through an absolutely epic series of idiotic and frustrating clusterfucks, none of them mine, I'm not there. The upside is that I'm here, and I'll be there tomorrow instead. Tomorrow evening I'll be splitting time between chatting on Lit and counting a thousand new rocks and beads. woot!

I like most jazz except for the fiercely experimental, improvisational and atonal stuff. I had an evil psycho boyfriend long ago who styled himself a jazz guitarist and would spend hours noodling tunelessly on his six string and working through mediocre renditions of things out of his fake book. Other musicians made fun of him but he claimed it was because they were ignorant. It really, really turned me off to jazz for a long time. That and the fact that he'd only fuck me if we had Pat Metheny or Jean-Michel Jarre playing. I'm more a Led Zeppelin sorta grrrl.

But I'll listen to Billie Holiday til the cows come home, and then listen to her some more in the company of cows.

Here's a set of the sort of "jazz" I personally truly love:

Cab, St. James Infirmary Blues. Great animation too, but what really gets me is that first line, when he howls out "seeeeeee my baby..." That seriously gives me goosebumps all over.

Sarah Vaughn
makes me all Misty

And ooh ahh Ella

And well, of course there's Billie. This one is my personal favorite.

No wait. This is my favorite.

No wait. It's this one.

I dedicate that last one to myself, tomorrow morning, dragging my ass out of bed a full three hours earlier than usual so I can go buy shiny things. That will truly be a bedraggled, bedeviled and beastly bijou.

But then I will have more rocks, and that is a most excellent thing. No such thing as too many rocks.

Tzara, I bet UYS' accent will make the Yeats just especially gorgeous. Good choice, that. And I vote MORE boobies from her, by the way, in case Smitty's idea of a vote catches on.

bj

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Is a clusterfuck anything like an orgy?

 

[RhymeSmith]

Is a clusterfuck anything like an orgy?

Yah. An orgy of mistakes!

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Yah. An orgy of mistakes!

True dat.

No, tragically, a clusterfuck is unlike an orgy in just about every way. It's a Series of Unfortunate Synchronicities that Lead to Extremely Stupid Versions of Reality.

I have begun my day anew now and it's being much kinder. No real promise of an orgy though, which would balance this morning nicely. *sigh*

bj

 

[LeBroz]

Is a clusterfuck anything like an orgy?

A clusterfuck is an orgy designed by committee, organized by committee, and run by committee.

.
.

 

[LeBroz]

.
.

Here I am, back in the Bistro to warm my freezin butt.

Yesterday we got over 8" of snow; so far today the storm total's 16" with more on the way. Probably topping out at 20". And while the snow rises, the temp's dropping — -7°C (19°F) & windchill of -16°C (4°F). And Spring's just over 10 days away.

At least tonight we get to go over to Daylight Saving Time. For those using alarm clocks, you lose an hour of sleep. On the other hand, if it's daylight that wakes you, you get an extra hour of sleep.


.
.

 

[Homburg]

I like most jazz except for the fiercely experimental, improvisational and atonal stuff. I had an evil psycho boyfriend long ago who styled himself a jazz guitarist and would spend hours noodling tunelessly on his six string and working through mediocre renditions of things out of his fake book. Other musicians made fun of him but he claimed it was because they were ignorant. It really, really turned me off to jazz for a long time. That and the fact that he'd only fuck me if we had Pat Metheny or Jean-Michel Jarre playing. I'm more a Led Zeppelin sorta grrrl.

That experimental, atonal stuff is just not my bag. It all sounds like decent (and sometimes great) musicians getting really whacked out on psychotropics, doing unpleasant things with their instruments, and convincing record execs that it's jazz, not shinola.

Here's a set of the sort of "jazz" I personally truly love:

Cab, St. James Infirmary Blues. Great animation too, but what really gets me is that first line, when he howls out "seeeeeee my baby..." That seriously gives me goosebumps all over.

bj

Truly righteous.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

A clusterfuck is an orgy designed by committee, organized by committee, and run by committee.

.
.

Aha humping by numbers!

 

[unpredictablebijou]

oooooo new shiny things


back tomorrow

ooooooooooooo shiny


bj

 

[unpredictablebijou]

I really have to figure out how to get pictures in here so I can share these big juicy bowls of rocks with everybody. They're taking all my attention at the moment.

back tomorrow with a choice of cake or death.

bj

 

[Homburg]

I really have to figure out how to get pictures in here so I can share these big juicy bowls of rocks with everybody. They're taking all my attention at the moment.

back tomorrow with a choice of cake or death.

bj

PM me on that, darlin. I've got three or four ways to get photos on here, and can host for you, if need be.

 

[Homburg]

I really have to figure out how to get pictures in here so I can share these big juicy bowls of rocks with everybody. They're taking all my attention at the moment.

back tomorrow with a choice of cake or death.

bj

Cake or death?

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I do NOT recommend starting your day as I did ... running down the road in bare feet and a nightie chasing a delivery truck for my new Dell printer!

 

[unpredictablebijou]

First an amazing link.

One of the wackiest and most hilarious signs of spring at my house is the barred owls. They call like this all year but in the spring they come into the big front yard and sit on either side of the house having competitions all night.

Barred owls are truly insane, or at least they sound that way. Their calls sound like they're trying to be serious but just not quite managing, like they can't keep a straight face all the way through. That's exacerbated when there's a great horned owl in the neighborhood. The barreds will hang around and imitate his very dignified call, but you can tell it's them, since they tend to sorta crack up and giggle at the end.

I found a good YouTube link to give you an example of how crazy they get. They guy doing the calls to inspire them is pretty good too.

Now then.

PM me on that, darlin. I've got three or four ways to get photos on here, and can host for you, if need be.

I will do that right quick. I got some nice photos yesterday and am navigating my retarded way through the photo program now.

Cake or death?

Thanks for putting that link in. I was going to and then didn't have time yesterday. Yes. Cake or death?

As you can see, I made sure there was plenty of cake.

I do NOT recommend starting your day as I did ... running down the road in bare feet and a nightie chasing a delivery truck for my new Dell printer!

I'd have paid good money to see that much cuteness.

How bout that poetry challenge, kids? Cool, huh? Go play. What could it hurt?

bj

 

[Angeline]

Hmmmmm

Cake?

Death?

http://homepage.mac.com/m5comp/trekbits/trekpics/brain/brain026.jpeg

Well, I worked out for the first time in months today, so I already feel like death.

I'll have cake. I brung sum.

http://www.outrageousendings.com/Traditional%20tray.jpg

But I'd give it up for you, Bijou.

 

[Homburg]

Well, I worked out for the first time in months today, so I already feel like death.

I lift regularly, so some part of me always feels like death.

But I'd give it up for you, Bijou.

Oooooooo


*peers at the avatar*

Is that a certain poet chick when she was young? If so, dayum. Between your brains, that look, and the cars, wow, my teenaged self would've lusted for you SO bad.

 

[Angeline]

I lift regularly, so some part of me always feels like death.



Oooooooo


*peers at the avatar*

Is that a certain poet chick when she was young? If so, dayum. Between your brains, that look, and the cars, wow, my teenaged self would've lusted for you SO bad.

C'est moi. *Flutters lashes*

It would have been mutual. Even the young poet chick always went for the smart, weird guys.

eagleyez and I just sat in front of the tv eating dinner and watching an episode of Bizarre Food (my choice to watch it, not his), where the host dined at a restaurant in Bejing that specializes in penis. Penii? Penis soup, penis sliced, diced or served raw and dipped into broth to cook. Snake penis, seal penis, deer penis, yak penis. When they brought out a plate of penii, a sort of penis pu pu platter, the host looked at it and started laughing. It was, indeed, bizarre.

Unfortunately we couldn't finish our steaks, but we are watching MSNBC now.

 

[RhymeSmith]

Penii?

I think the plural is penes, but penises is also often used (if one can even say that the plural is often used!).

There. Good deed done for the day. Going to bed now. Sleep well, all.

 

[Homburg]

C'est moi. *Flutters lashes*

It would have been mutual. Even the young poet chick always went for the smart, weird guys.

*cough* I was in the Poetry Club

eagleyez and I just sat in front of the tv eating dinner and watching an episode of Bizarre Food (my choice to watch it, not his), where the host dined at a restaurant in Bejing that specializes in penis. Penii? Penis soup, penis sliced, diced or served raw and dipped into broth to cook. Snake penis, seal penis, deer penis, yak penis. When they brought out a plate of penii, a sort of penis pu pu platter, the host looked at it and started laughing. It was, indeed, bizarre.

Unfortunately we couldn't finish our steaks, but we are watching MSNBC now.

Okay, that lends a whole new meaning to my buddy's favourite comeback "Eat a bowl of dicks!".

 

[Angeline]

*cough* I was in the Poetry Club



Okay, that lends a whole new meaning to my buddy's favourite comeback "Eat a bowl of dicks!".

Tell him to go to Bejing and let you know how they are.

I was editor of the Literary Magazine

 

[Homburg]

Tell him to go to Bejing and let you know how they are.

I was editor of the Literary Magazine

*snort* That's great =)


Oh, geeze, I was assistant editor. I still have a couple of copies.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Man, Ange, I love the tunage! Playing it now in the shop as my exit music. Knock me a kiss indeed.

Save me a slice of cake.


I out-dweeb you both, by the way. I lettered in math.



and I'd have had huge crushes on both of you.

bj

 

[Homburg]

Man, Ange, I love the tunage! Playing it now in the shop as my exit music. Knock me a kiss indeed.

Save me a slice of cake.


I out-dweeb you both, by the way. I lettered in math.



and I'd have had huge crushes on both of you.

bj

Yup, I was really not that hot on math. I aced the english portion of the SAT, but not so hot on the math side.

 

[Angeline]

*snort* That's great =)


Oh, geeze, I was assistant editor. I still have a couple of copies.

I was also an editor of my high school newspaper. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), my old copies are back at the house with the ex, and I'm guessing it'll be a cold day in hell before he sends me anything else. He probably already has had a bonfire of any writings I left there. Danced around it singing Rumplestiltskin is my name...but I digress.

Every few years I used to take them out (The Criterion(s), that is) and read my articles and die with embarassment at my utterly sappy writing. One article in particular I recall about the homecoming bonfire where my cup ranneth over with so much be-true-to-your-school hubris, I sound like a young Nixonette. Sad but true.