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Archive for February, 2011

AW Challenge

February 27, 2011 2 comments

Time to write again!

This one is a “Different POV” challenge and I drew the straw to write in…2nd person.

Hoo boy. I will warn you, since I’m so used to writing in 1st or 3rd, this may or may not come out the way I like. Just for a frame of reference, I’m setting it in turn-of-last-century England, and featuring a cameo of my most favorite literary character of all time. ;) Here goes nothing!

Read more…

Categories: The Usual

I thought so

February 24, 2011 Comments off

I didn’t make it into ABNA this year. No worries – next time.

Though, truthfully, I didn’t expect to make it. I wasn’t prepared in the least, and the beginning of the book, while pretty damn humorous in a few bits, does nothing to give the idea of the real story.

Nonetheless, I’m cheering on everyone who did make it!

And now, back to work..

K.G.

Categories: book Tags:

February 21, 2011 Comments off

Realizing just how short a person is on time is a very, very strange sensation.

So it’s tax season. My day job, as you well know, is in an accounting office, and this season means that it’s extreme overtime. My getting out of work no longer depends on the clock – instead it depends on everything that needs to be done actually getting done. I know that people always say, “don’t take your work home”, but now is the time that this goes out the window.

That, plus the fact that I come back to a manuscript and design projects, means that my time has to be, quite literally, micromanaged, if I want to get everything put together.

So, my lovelies, if I hadn’t been in touch with you for a long while for whatever reason, hold it not against me. ‘Tis the times. I’m percolating your projects too, even if it costs me sleep.

It gets at me, though, in the regard that I often feel that I neglect people, because I’m this busy. As a result, some of my wonderful friends expressed their concerns, for which I am quite grateful. It wasn’t my intention to get off the social radar because of work, and in two weeks, I will have a small break wherein I can catch up with everyone. And I mean everyone.

Thanks, all, for your thoughts.

K.G.

Categories: The Usual

“All I can do is empty an ocean with a teaspoon.”

February 19, 2011 Comments off

Quote courtesy of one of my favorite reading spots: Shakesville.

The meaning of this quote is thus: we can only do so much, but it’s powerful when more than one person does it. So, also with a hat-tip to Shakesville…people, grab your teaspoons.

You may have heard that the House voted to completely defund Planned Parenthood. And now it’s kicked into the Senate, because the measure actually passed in the House. This is all, of course, under the guise of “sacrifices” and “compromises” to “make ends meet”. If you look at the actual budget numbers, it’s hogwash. Planned Parenthood does not receive as much in funds as it used to at this time five years ago, and every time the budget gets revised, the amount of money it gets keeps shrinking. This is why it relies on donation revenue. The actual number it gets is a drop in the grand bucket, especially when billions go to corn subsidies – for HFCS production – and war overseas.

This measure is nothing more than a calculated move and a very telling one on a series of propositions and bills all aimed to attack women. Rape redefinition bill? Abortion restrictions? The “right” of a pharmacist to refuse medication based on his/her “beliefs”? The “right” of a doctor to refuse treatment of a patient based on the same?  (The pharmacists’ rights bill passed in certain states. The doctors’ rights bill is under severe fire in the states where it was proposed.) Then there’s South Dakota, which first tried to ban abortion altogether, and then attempted to enact a bill that redefines justifiable homidice in order to “prevent harm to the unborn” – yes, you’re reading right.

So kindly don’t tell me that I’m ‘reaching’ or ‘overreacting’ when I say that the attempt to defund Planned Parenthood is anything but calculated attempt to legalize the GOP’s own misogyny.

Why do I say that? Only 3% of Planned Parenthood centers offer abortion services on site. That’s right, only 3%. What do the other 97% offer? Let’s see here:

- Pap smears

- Cancer screening

- Mammograms

- Birth control

- Counseling

- Actual sex ed

- All of that at little or no cost.

Yes, no cost. Because the women that go to a Planned Parenthood are poor. They cannot afford health insurance. They cannot afford a private doctor. They want a very bare minimum of a standard of reproductive health, which is just to ensure that they develop cancer without their own knowledge. And, while en route to getting those services, they’re harassed, stalked, sometimes attacked, sometimes called babykillers, all by those so-called “Christians” who want to “preserve life.” This is why PP uses volunteer escorts that help arriving patients walk past protesters and into the PP center, to save their lives by an annual pelvic exam that they cannot otherwise manage to get.

Think about this for a moment. A free services health clinic patient needs to be escorted from her vehicle in order to receive basic reproductive health care.

Does this sound reprehensible to you? It well should. This is what is happening in this country. If you’re in a big city, you may not realize or see it, but in the Midwest, in small-town America, this happens all. the. damn. time.

And now, the House voted to pass this horror-show of an amendment, that strips Planned Parenthood of all funding.

I’m astounded, though, in a good way, that Rep. Jackie Speier took the stand to publicly discuss her own abortion when the New Jersey rep, Chris Smith, decided to scare-monger his fellow representatives by describing the procedure. And know what else? I’m confident, confident that the Republican female reps also had them, but of course, you’d never hear about it. I doubt their husbands know either. And Rep. Speier said an excellent bit, right there, “For you to stand on this floor and suggest, as you have, that somehow this is a procedure that is either welcomed or done cavalierly or done without any thought is preposterous.”

Yes, it is. As I said in my prior post, no woman ever, ever wakes up one fine day and thinks, “Gee, I’ll terminate my pregnancy now.” It’s never a decision made lightly.Whether it’s thought of well in advance or the minute the stick turns blue, it is a decision that requires a very good degree of forethought. And most women who go to the doctor to say “I want to terminate” have already spent enough sleepless nights thinking about this.

But to the GOP, this doesn’t matter . Never mind that abortion is already severely restricted across the board, never mind that broke women everywhere already make the choice of whether to refill their birth control pill or put dinner on the table, never mind that broke women often rely on Planned Parenthood for the bare minimum of knowing that they hadn’t developed cervical cancer that year. None of it matters. What matters is the GOP’s own “moral superiority” – a joke, considering how many of their party members are forced into resignation when another scandal involving drugs, affairs, love children, and hookers develops. What matters is their white-Christian-Southern superiority, with no regard to speak of as to whom they trample to assert it. What matter is one procedure – only one – which, let’s face it, is not done commonly. And moreover, again, is not performed at most PP centers. Screw the 97% of women who rely on PP for basic care. Never mind them, what’s more important is to punish the 3% for that one thing.

Another interesting fact: abortions performed at Planned Parenthood are paid for by the patients.

But, again, doesn’t really matter, does it?

Go ahead, tell me I’m misinterpreting it. Go right the hell ahead.

The bottom line remains is that no male lawmaker ever has the right to dictate to any woman what she’s free to do or not to do with her uterus.If her money is going to empty the uterus, then that is what should happen, without the bureaucratic bullshit.

I can only hope that this will die on the Senate floor, but the House doesn’t exactly raise me with optimism either. You’re all for the government staying the hell out of your lives? Make it stay out of women’s lives first. Or women aren’t people? Of course not. After all, you’re willing to subsidize contraception for horses.

Thanks, again, GOP, for reinforcing the idea that the poor don’t matter, women don’t matter, and if they’re both, then they’re SOL.

Take Action Now. Donate to Planned Parenthood. Write an open letter to your Congresspeople. House Reps. Senators.

I’m writing this and urging you to keep this on the radar. Crank those teaspoon arms.

K.G.

Categories: the pissed-off file

Let’s talk about a hard topic today.

February 17, 2011 Comments off

I’ve been debating on this post for quite some time. And, moreover, this concept of posts. Just like I write up my music adventures, just like I often write a quick vignette set to song, I want to, occasionally, speak out about and hopefully spark the discussion of some hard topics. You know the ones: the ones that you avoid discussing because of the strong reactions it elicits. The ones where people get comfortable in just acknowledging the severity of the topics at hand. The ones where discussion attempts end at “We’ll agree to disagree” to maintain peace and civility in a social gathering.

No. Let’s talk. Let’s discuss them. Discourse and knowledge is what keeps us wanting to learn.

The topic I want to touch on today is abortion and abortion rights.

It’s only a propos, considering the South Dakota bill attempt for “justifiable homicide” of abortion providing physicians as a threat to the fetus. Also considering the article in the New York Times about coercive pregnancy as a form of abuse. (links embedded further down) There are so many myths about abortion, many of which people fight tooth and nail to continue perpetrating, even in the light of sound science disproving it.

Now, let us go back to pre-Roe v. Wade for a moment.

Abortion is by no means a new medical procedure. Abortifacient herbs like black cohosh existed since the ancient times, and avoiding/preventing pregnancy was on a front line. For as long as women had known that they could be pregnant, women always searched for, and explored methods to prevent and terminate pregnancies.

However, history lessons aside, let’s talk more  about circumstances before Roe. Back-alley abortions, specifically. Women, back then, in the era where they were relegated to the role of housekeeper and happy housewife – regardless of whether or not they were happy, or wanted that sort of a life – were also desperate. Their circumstances for ending pregnancies then were as valid as they are now. Abusive partner. Not being able to afford a child. Health. Stigmas. Rape victims. But before Roe, they were lacking one thing: safe, legal access. The doctors who performed abortions did so risking their lives and practices, and were few and far-between. Organizations like Jane had literally saved lives because of their sheer existence. More often, you would hear stories of coat hangers. Bicycle-wheel spokes. Deliberate falls down stairs. Home surgeries.

To us, it sounds horrific. We have sterile environments now. Specialists. Doctors have anesthesia, antibiotics, and provide the procedure in a clean, safe environment.

Back then, women died because they didn’t have those things. Or they developed infections as a result of their illegal abortion that rendered them sterile.

Think about it. They were so desperate for safe, legal access to abortion that they were willing to die or put themselves at risk.

The anti-choicers – I utterly and absolutely refuse to address them as pro-life – completely disregard the very real fact that if a legal and safe abortion is prohibited, there will be an immediate spike in back-alley abortions. They’re under a disturbingly real impression that as long as the fetus is actually brought to term is born, nothing else matters. Not the life and health of the woman carrying said fetus. Not even the very real factor of what situation that pregnancy puts her in, economically, psychologically, or otherwise. And, considering that those very same people think nothing of slashing public day-care programs, early education, Medicaid, and any sort of a safety net that a new mother may require – especially if she’s poor – it’s fair to assume that their protection of life begins at conception and ends at birth.

Instead of Planned Parenthood, which is sometimes the only reproductive health resource a woman can get, including and mostly focusing on birth control, Pap smears, mammograms, and cancer screenings – only 3% of PP centers nationwide provide abortion services – states everywhere channel their funding to “crisis pregnancy centers” that do everything in their power to discourage a woman from terminating her pregnancy. I see the subway ads for one of those centers: “Abortion alternatives.” Like what? What is an alternative if a pregnancy endangers a woman’s life? Is her life somehow superseded by a being that, let’s face it, has no heart rhythm until eighteen weeks of existence, or nerve activity until the twenty-second? What, exactly, is the alternative if the father of that child is either her abuser, or a rapist? What, precisely, is the alternative? Adoption? Don’t joke. The adoption system in this country is deplorable. Some prospective “parents” don’t want to “trouble” themselves with American children, so they go abroad, and, considering the routine uproars about adoptive parents attempting to return their children to their native country, it’s safe to say that the screening for fit adoptive parenthood that prospective parents go through is complete, unadulterated bunk. Adopted children are abused every day, in ways that would curl our hair, all while loving couples who would love a child are repeatedly declined when it comes to adoptions. And what, precisely, is the alternative to a woman living with a daily living, breathing reminder of the time that she felt most violated?

What, precisely, is the alternative to abortion?

Prevention. But, of course, the anti-choicers firmly believe that birth control is abortion too. Even though sound science, decades of endocrinology research, and proof that it works all shows to the contrary. And we all know, especially from seeing the trainwreck that is the Palin family, that “just don’t do it” doesn’t work. And, of course, the gratuitous articles of spiking teen pregnancy rates.

If one lives in a liberal area like New York, it’s reflexive to think hey, this doesn’t happen here. But let’s not live in a bubble: it happens often. Every day, there is something about reproductive health that is under fire. Crisis Pregnancy Centers instead of legitimate, informed resources. Pharmacists being given the right to effectively not do their job by dispensing certain medications and/or birth control prescriptions. Chip, chip, chip away at access; if you can’t outlaw it, make access so difficult that keeping it legal becomes hollow. Misinformation on preventing pregnancy. “Studies” that show how the Pill is abortifacient when all it does is stops the ovulation process. Abstinence-only sex ed getting the funding while comprehensive sex  ed is being cut left and right, shut down, criticized, and then the teenage pregnancies spike. Chip, chip, chip away at prevention.

South Dakota has introduced a bill that basically equates murder to justifiable homidice if it’s an abortion provider – whom they don’t even have the temerity to call a doctor. The same state that, alongside others, attempted to pass laws outlawing all abortion, even to save a woman’s life, even in the events of rape and incest. Chip, chip, chip.

Murders of doctors. Bombing of clinics. Harassment of women seeking services at the clinics. Refusal of permanent birth control.

Chip.

Chip.

Chip.

Let’s face it: this isn’t about the unborn fetus at all. It’s about women. It’s about control, control by women and control over women.

Check out this article from the Times. A link between abusers and unwanted pregnancies. I would bet good money that people never even thought of this. But they have to, considering that pregnancy creates dependency. Abusers love to make their victims dependent. A pregnancy is a very quick shortcut to that. It’s twice as difficult to escape an abusive environment with a child, or a child on the way. She’s dependent on her abuser completely. This can, and often does, become dangerous.

Let’s state something obvious: there is no woman, not in the history of the world, who just wakes up and decides to abort her pregnancy. It is never an easy decision; it is agonizing, humiliating, a nerve-racking pressure cooker. It is something questioned every second up until it’s done. It is something vilified for even being thought of. It is something that is life-threatening, not the procedure itself, but considering that there were bombings of clinics before, how would a woman know, walking into the clinic, that the safe environment that it promises is really safe?

And for all the scare-mongering about how a baby’s dismembered inside the uterus during the procedure – please. Spare me the bullshit and the propaganda, I’ve aced my biology in college. Science doesn’t lie. 90% of all abortions take place within the first ten weeks. The fetus is little more than a clump of tissue. No, it’s not an automatically fully-formed baby that just grows a little bigger in size. A 6-week fetus barely differs from a 6-week fetus of a cat. And also, what about natural abortions…you know, miscarriages? They’re classified as abortion too, medically. They’re no more than an extra-heavy period. Half the time, the woman doesn’t even have a clue she conceived. Also in SD, if my memory serves, there was an attempt to put women in jail for abortions. Or attempting to “endanger the fetus.”

Oh, wait. In Florida, a woman was in fact put in jail for “endangering.”  Not for abortion, but for wanting a natural birth after a prior C-section. The woman was sentenced to serve because she was “knowingly endangering the fetus.” Even though her doctor greenlighted her for a natural birth; she was in great health. So if a woman decides to keep her pregnancy, heaven forfend she has a voice about how she wants to give birth.

Chip, chip, chip.

It’s not about babies. It’s not about “protecting life”. It’s all about control.

And this is the one topic where people say that they don’t want to get involved in the debate.

Why not? Are women not people too?

Or do their lives, opinions, livelihoods, automatically become nonexistent when there’s a fetus in the picture?

When I look at the anti-choice brigade, their legislature, their continuous slashes of support for new mothers, for education, for public health, and at the same time do everything in their power to make sure a woman will give birth whether she wants to or not, this begs the question, what sort of a life are they sentencing these new mothers to? And the newborns that they fought to ensure the birth of – what’ll happen to them? After all, healthcare bankrupts thousands every day. How, exactly, is anything that they’re doing “pro-life”?

Hillary Rodham Clinton said it well in China: “Women’s rights are human rights and human rights are women’s rights.” Indeed. And the first right a woman should have is something as simple, as basic as autonomy. Because that is what abortion comes down to, autonomy. The right for a woman to decide what to do with her body as she sees fit. She is the sole owner and proprietor of her uterus, and therefore only she gets to dictate who or what takes up residence inside it, or in any other part of her body.

And mind you, I’m talking about choice. No one at all is walking up to a pregnant woman and forcing her into an abortion clinic. No one is guilting her, or shaming her, or coercing her into an abortion. No one is forcing her into it, but a great many people would love to force her out of it. It is a strictly voluntary procedure, in an enormous majority of the case. By the time a woman steps into a clinic or a doctor’s office to have an abortion, she had wracked her mind endlessly over the choice of whether or not to have it. Read: choice. And that choice is severely curtailed if the access is limited. There’s no coercion to abort – but the choice needs to be there. And with that choice – access.

A woman can choose whether or not to stay pregnant. It’s her body, her uterus, and her decision. Sure as hell not the state, and Griswold v. CT, Roe v. Wade, Lawrence & Garner v. Texas have already established that the government has absolutely no business in someone’s bedroom.

But access – safe, clean access – that is under attack. And to put doctors in the line of fire is reprehensible. I’ve not forgotten Dr. Tiller. There is no cloaking what this really is, and I cannot tell you the sort of chills that go down my spine at the consideration of how this proposed legislature can be applied. As a liberal female, I cannot tell you how horrified I am for the safety of women in that state. Already, this state has no abortion providing physicians residing. Already, women have to go through a gamut that involved getting the procedure. Already, there’s a barrier at every turn. And now, this attempt at legislature.

If this doesn’t scare the living crap out of you, it should. Really, it should. Justifiable homicide to prevent harm to a fetus…this can be taken into so many ways, and not one of them is remotely as benevolent as those lawmakers may try to make it.

Abortion is legal, safe, and voluntary. But access to it is becoming life-threatening for both the woman and her physician.

Chip, chip, chip away.

The pre-Roe world and way of life for women was not that long ago. Only 50 years. A generation and some change. For us youngins, our mothers probably remember those days, and look back with chills. Doctors nearing retirement may still remember the one time they saw a woman battling an infection she got from a back-alley abortion. How many more women need to suffer before people wake up and realize that women are people too?

It is the woman’s choice whether she wants to stay pregnant or not. No one else’s. The how she got pregnant is irrelevant. It’s her choice.

K.G.

And the Grammy Goes To….

February 14, 2011 Comments off

Three VERY awesome artists!!!

- Esperanza Spalding, who notably beat out Justin Bieber for Best New Artist, and a great sound in jazz to boot. YES!

- Lalah Hathaway, and

- Kirk Whalum!

I am so happy for them. Three, count ‘em, three jazz musicians, all of whom veritable powerhouses, and one of whom a fresh face on Best New Artist! I am stoked! :D

K.G.

Categories: jazz

February 14, 2011 2 comments

I think I have something away from the norm, and that is the misadventure of NYC shopping that I got embroiled in recently. Mostly, this is me showing that I am far, far too practical for my own good in the one aspect of life that practical doesn’t quite work. I don’t talk fashion often – or at all, truthfully – and frankly…the only reason I’m writing this is to make you all giggle. Yes, at my own expense. :)

Now, if you met me in person, you know that I love, love, love my comfortable yoga pants for off-time. You know that I love my coffee, my long walks, and my devil-may-care everyday. I don’t wear makeup aside from lip balm – never needed to. Though I do dress up for the day job, but even then, everything is with comfort in mind.

So when an event surfaced that required major dressing up – and do I mean major – I will admit to balking a bit. I never have to ask myself what to wear, except now. Skirt and blouse? Dress? Too much? Not enough? Gown?  Heels, beautiful and yet so impractical? Jewelry aside from the necklace that always stays with me? I’m nothing if not an adventurer, so if dress up I must, then dress up I certainly shall! Which means…

…shopping.

I’m no shopaholic. I don’t shop for clothes often, least of all formalwear. I also have a classic sense of taste when it comes to gowns, and am a fair stickler about sticking to it. Empire waists? Not for my build. Color? Jewel tone or basic black. Cover? Yes, if possible Long? Sweep floor. Stitching, ruching, any of that? Depends on the cut of the gown. Accessories? Minor but pointed. Less is more. Classic is king.

It just so happens that my day job position is in the Garment District, which puts me in close contact with the newest things on the market. Some of these shops are owned by the designers themselves, so if I were to, say, round the block of 38th and 6th, I will come across no less than 10 shops, none of them geared towards the same style. Formal? Yes!

Strap yourselves in, though, because I have had some doozies of misadventures on this hunt…

Stop #1: 37th Street.

Owner takes a good look at me and selects some concoction in black. Lovely! But short, to my knees.

“Long, miss,” I say. “This is too short.”

“But this is long!” she says, and then shows off something that I swear is a tunic, because no one who is taller than 5’5″ can conceivably wear it as a dress. “This is our short style.”

A quick FYI: I’m a natural five-nine.

I do a quick little calculation. Waist right there, hips there, skirt length…HELL no.

Me: “I’ll keep trying.”

Stop #2: Lord & Taylor, 5th Avenue

If you’ve never been to Lord’s when in New York, go for a day trip. They have some amazing things in there, but as far as the department store prices go, they are exorbitant. The only worse I can come up with is either Bergdorf or Barney’s, neither of which appeals to me.

I go with my best friend of eleven years, and we start digging through racks. I find a couple of lovely navy dresses, and go to try them on. Perfect fit! And a lovely style too, just a tiny bit of embellishment, which actually works in my favor.

My friend turns to me. “Well?”

Me: “We have a winnah!”

I get back into my Walking Clothing, and get the dress back onto the hanger, thinking that this hunt ended early, and how lucky was I?

But then I see the price tag.

“Wha-a-a-a-at?!”

If you heard that from across the country, that’s us finding out that a good gown costs well into the triple digits. And I mean well into. As in, the dress was more expensive than my flight!

I’m not made of money, honey. NEXT!

Stop #3: Some Shop On 38th Street

Good gravy, I think this one stands out in my memory as the quintessential This is why I don’t go shopping!!! experience.I will admit to making several semi-amateurish mistakes – I lived in New York long enough to not make ‘em, usually – but desperation does drive people to desperate measures. I had a deadline to meet to the event at hand, and knew that either I went home with a dress tonight or, in the inimitable words of Tom Hanks, Houston, we have a problem.

I spotted this shop on 38th, somewhere close to 8th Avenue and Gray’s Papaya, and saw hangers upon hangers of formal dresses. I thought, know what, I think they have something good in there. So I go in, solo. That’s amateur mistake #1, if you’re going in for a shopping mission with a target in mind, a backup is always a good idea.

The shopkeeper comes forward, a short, balding gentleman with an accent who grasps me very eagerly by the hand (mistake #2, I loathe being touched by people I don’t know, and in retrospect, should’ve cleared the deck right then and there), and says, “You are so beautiful, I have just the dress for you! What would you like?”

That is a major, major red flag right there, someone who starts complimenting me and telling me he has something without hearing me out first is guaranteed to have nothing whatsoever.

So I give him my shpeel of requirements (long, black, classic-style, minimal sparkly, good fabric, and my size), and he leads me by the arm (mistake #3, see #2 for why) and pulls out…

“No way,” I said immediately. “This is disgusting.

Yes, it was a long black dress, but the fake flowers down the front, the very obviously horrible fabric – the pseudo-satin that feels like paper  – and the horizontal stitching…I cannot imagine how anyone can possibly wear that…thing…and call it good. And this guy was looking at me like, and I kid you not, a puppy waiting for praise. And of course, he was very crestfallen when I told him that I couldn’t stand it.

The other dresses he showed me were along the same lines. Pseudo-satin which hardly even qualifies as polyester,  absolutely garish embellishments, and it led me to ask, “Show me your catalogs.”

Mistake #4, and this one’s all on me. I should have laid tracks out of there ages ago, but as I said, desperate times, desperate measures. And some of the things in the catalogs were actually pretty nice, but this guy was showing me everything that I would never put on even if I were paid to.

So finally he asks, “How much would you like to spend?”

Mind you also that his wife, apparently also his assistant, was showing me some of the things in catalogs as well, and was right there.

Me: “I’m not willing to go above $150 if I can help it.”

So he pulls me off to the side and whispers conspiratorially, “I give you good price. Don’t talk to my wife, okay?”

I ran for it right about then. Seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever left a location this fast in my life, and the business card he gave me, I ripped up immediately and threw into the nearest trash can, not really caring if it was privately owned or not. Any shopkeeper who says he’ll give me a “good price” is, by default, not worth the time and effort.

Stop #4: Macy’s.

It was bound to happen, but I generally put that store on a back burner. I love going to the smaller shops, because I can count on finding something interesting in there. However, after the prior misadventure and all that entailed, I just walked in there on autopilot.

The escalators carried me up to the dress department, and all I could think of was, “if there is a dress, a plain, simple, long dress that I can work with in any way, shape, or form, please, with a cherry on top – let me find it!

Well, suffice it to say that find it I did, and here’s to hoping that my formal needs are satisfied for a while to come. :)

In retrospect, though, it’s just downright hilarious. I am just not the shopping type; I go in, get what I need, and run out, and shopping for myself is always, inevitably, more of a misadventure than it has to be.

So of course, expect something similar when I go for a Netbook in April. :)

K.G.

Categories: The Usual

Chasing Music: Valentine’s Concert with a Koz

February 13, 2011 2 comments

Time and again, I’ve seen that jazz is alive and well in New York City. Time and again, I went to a place where I thought that the audience wouldn’t turn out for this and ended up witnessing a delightfully packed house. Of course, there are some musicians (ahem!) whom I don’t see because their tour doesn’t take them to New York.

Dave Koz is very much on that list.

I saw him all of once in South NJ, and the night was rocking. Hearing his music on the radio – Internet Radio, nowadays – I sometimes don’t realize it’s his work, but all the same, I notice the inflection behind the horns, a form of a musical soothsay. When you set Dave Koz on stage and add some Andre Berry and Randy Jacobs, then the picture changes, and it’s time to party.

Which, of course, means that when Dave Koz was listed as the artist du jour for the Best Buy Theater (formerly the Nokia), it was pretty obvious where I was going to be.

However, this was Valentine’s Weekend. I most certainly do not acknowledge the holiday (a different post on a different day, I assure), and I was thinking, for just a moment, that Dave was to wax romantic. I mean, he had to, right?

The first thing that struck me was actually the Best Buy theater itself. Upon the ticket scan, the crowd flowed downstairs towards the concession and the theater area. Bands of neon trailed the escalators down, and it almost felt like I was going into a modern-style nightclub rather than a theater. And all I could think of is, hot damn, Marquee Concerts has done it again.

Oh, and indeed so! Alex Bugnon opened the show, with his inimitable piano-funk style, and I knew, much to my own delight, that this was not at all going to be a “waxing romantic” sort of show. With 107 In the Shade showcasing a duel between the piano and the harmonica, the stage was set.

Now, Hello Tomorrow came out, and I can say without hesitation that this is my favorite Koz album next to the iconic and inimitable At the Movies. It’s quintessential Koz in the soothsay aspect, and it does the soothing in a way that’s more than a propos for the times. Where people are stuck in their situations, where they – quite often! – find themselves stumbling, cross-roaded, and disenchanted with their surroundings, Hello Tomorrow does a lot more than play good music. From the first track to the last, it’s a little whisper in the ear of things are going to be okay from here, and sometimes, more often than not, it’s a necessary thing to hear. It just sounds very different when someone says it without words.

The first strains of What You Leave Behind came from somewhere not on stage. From my seat on far left stageside, I turned around, and all the while, the alto sax sang its reassurance. The spotlight swept the audience as well, and eventually settled on a very familiar gentleman in a gray suit, with a silver alto horn, making his way onto the stage.

And that’s when the party started. Dave wasted absolutely no time in kicking up the pace of his music, and it wasn’t long before another familiar figure came out and shredded on that guitar. There is a reason that Randy Jacobs is known as Dynamite, and I heard it in every single growl of the strings. To say that he tore it up would be the understatement of the year.

Dave, of course, was in his element and he gets every single point for showmanship that I can hand. He was everywhere; playing with Brian Simpson on keys, shoulder-to-shoulder with Andre Berry on bass, and kicking out dance moves in time with the music when he wasn’t playing it. A tiptoe peek over Randy Jacobs’s shoulder, a kick for Andre to back off, and the end-song salute with the soprano sax – the energy coming off that stage isn’t something that I could describe.

Once the roof had re-settled onto the theater, Dave took the mic and spoke about the making of the album, and the cover of the Herb Alpert classic, This Guy’s In Love With You. He admitted that he never thought of himself as a singer, but nor was Herb, and this song is one of the most popular that he had ever released, and the producer insisted on it. And, for two people who aren’t typically singers, Dave Koz and Herb Alpert had one thing in common, and it was the way they made that song sound.

I’m not a romantic, you guys know it. The Inner Romantic of Kat Gilraine has been atrophied for a lo-o-o-o-ng time, but I appreciate a song done right, and this was more than done right. Not even a light trumpet on the song could’ve changed the energy that night.

That, I think, was the only time Dave slowed down the pace. The next thing he brought out was Anything is Possible, also off the new release, a driving, funk-filled blast of tenor sax that doesn’t let up in any way, shape, or form. Randy “Dynamite” Jacobs, added his spice, and the party was on. Put The Top Down was in that mix as well.

And then, there was Miss Dana Glover.

If you ever wondered whose voice is the husk from Start All Over Again, then your answer is a most lovely brunette behind a Yamaha baby grand. I will admit that this was the first time that I heard her voice, and despite my horrendous pickiness, that track off Dave’s CD caught my attention. The lyrics are reaching, relatable, and very raw. For everyone who doesn’t want to voice what happens when things turn sour, this is a voice, and this is a way to say it without saying it.

These are the things your mind will tell you,

These are the things your heart will say,

There is no way, no way, no way…

For every time that a person can’t say that this is what goes on in their head, these are the lyrics that say it.

But as long as you are breathing,

You can start all over again…

And that is what even fewer people hear when they’re in the prior state of mind.

That night particularly, when Dana came out to sing this, with Dave treading lightly on the alto horn, the energy shifted. The mood slowed down from the party that the band threw with the prior tunes, and turned a little bit more somber, as if to acknowledge the statement behind the music.

The wrap-up to the entire affair was a rousing rendition of Can’t Let You Go, a favorite of mine off the collection of greatest hits, and one that I’ve not heard in a while. An high-energy wrap-up, and a standing ovation was a very, very rightly deserved ending. And, not for nothing, but a Dave Koz party is a good way to spend Valentine’s weekend indeed.

Special thanks to Ken, Bill & Sam of Marquee Concerts, Dave and the gang, and the Best Buy Theater and its amazing, lovely backstage lounge.

K.G.

Categories: jazz Tags: ,

AW February Blog Chain

February 13, 2011 24 comments

They’re ba-ack! And the topic is a two-fer:

Part one: Describe the antagonist in your novel in 50 words or less.

Part two: What would you say to your antagonist if you met him or her in real life? Post a scene in response to this question in 100 words or less.

Now, in a previous blog chain, I wrote about Shourron I. He’s one of the antagonists, but the story that’s behind him being such turns out to be a bit more convoluted. It’s only proper that I shift the focus to Senna, an employee at KramerMed Pharmaceuticals, the sorta-antagonist of Book 2 – that’s the most I can say without giving spoilers to the rest of the plot.

Part One

Ambitious, brilliant, slightly sociopathic Senna Clark. Or so she’s known in KramerMed. She knows a lot, maybe too much. And to those who can sense her, she is a rather disquieting presence. And if anyone avoids her, they’re right to do so.

Part Two. Note: this is set in Book 2, in first person.


I didn’t know what she was reading. But the diagrams gave it away. The stats, the charts, the very pristine, hospital-like layout of the forms.

“It’s not worth it, whatever you’re trying to do,” I said quietly. “It’s just not worth it.”

In retrospect, I realized that Alex and Jason had no idea whom they have actually hired. They saw a manager and an expert coordinator . They had no idea how dangerous she really was. But I knew it.

Senna got up and smiled, a smile that never reached her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “It is.”

 

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Categories: book, musings

In “Random Acts of Muse”…

February 3, 2011 4 comments

I tossed a prompt request onto the #amwriting and #writing Twitter feeds, which I found to be an amazing resource for fellow authors, and first responder is Jamie DeBree, with this interesting one.

“Woman walks up to find a note taped to her door. What does it say?”

Allright. Let’s do it. Limit will be 500 words; I tend to get verbose.

———-

Lillian didn’t expect anything out of the ordinary. Jupiter, Florida, was not known to be anything but another beach town, full of vacationers and retirees, and considering that she was in the latter, she got used to the sleepy, calm lifestyle in the warmth of the Floridian coast.

She left for the grocery store in the morning, stocking up on her usuals. Eggs, because she liked two hard-boiled in the morning with her coffee, black with one sugar – never a substitute, even though her doctor advised her to cut back a little – as well as rye bread, sour cream, chicken breasts (boneless, fit for grilling!) and Campbell’s Cream of Broccoli soup. She was in a casserole mood lately.

Lillian pulled into her driveway, the Lincoln Continental boxy and enormous in contrast with her neighbors’ sleeker, newer vehicles, and gazed around her suburban neighborhood. Calm, sun-flooded, ever-warm. She only wished Harry was around to see it. He had died ten years ago, and from the time he came back from ‘Nam, he always said, “We have to live by the oceanside someday, Lilly. It’s the only beautiful place left.”

He brought her a red carnation the day after he came back from ‘Nam. It was her flower, and he knew it every moment. He never gave her a rose in their fifty years of marriage.

Lillian knew he was right about the oceanside. But at that time, she had Karen to raise. Karen and Abigail, their two daughters, now in different parts of the country. Karen’s job took her to Chicago, where she was doing wonderfully, but came to help her move. Abigail was still back home, in Philadelphia, and there’s nothing she wanted more than to get out of there.

“We can’t all have the places we want, Abby,” Lillian said, but after some years, after Harry died, she thought about the place she wanted. The place that they wanted.

She only just moved to Jupiter a couple of months ago. It was only the other day that she unpacked her last box.Her new doctor was a spright, young-looking gentleman, who was slightly concerned about her blood sugar, just like her doctor back in Philadelphia.

She walked up to the door, and found a plain sheet of paper, folded, and taped to her door.

“What on earth..?” she wondered aloud as she took it down. Her fingers sent back a slight protest of arthritic pain, but she unfolded it.

Inside was a plain drawing, pencil on paper, of an open carnation. Though it was strange, Lillian knew its meaning.

“I know, Harry,” she said softly to the drawing. “I’m here now.”

The summery breeze brushed across her skin, making her feel like a thirty-year-old again, rather than a woman of eighty-six, if only for a moment.

Categories: The Usual
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