connoisseur series500

I'm keeping an eye out for these, Underground. Thanks.

Me too. BTW, Chris Oliverez, I started the thread and not Jim S. (even though he knows a lot more about this session than I do.)

Jimmy Smith was the father of all B-3ers after him. Either people avoided his style or slavishly copied him; but his force had to be reckoned with inevitably. The only way not to be influence in some way was to just shut yourself off, like Soulstream tells us John Patton did. There was no one greater on the instrument.

Jim has pretty much given the story. There was an article in the Toledo newspaper about Rusty's recently. Rusty Monroe now acts as a greeter at Murphy's, which has its own club band. She sold Rusty's to somebody who in turn was forced to sell it to someone else owing to financial hardship. The new owners turned it into a sports bar and Rusty Monroe has filed a lawsuit against the establishment using the venerable name of "Rusty's" for their sports bar. Typical Midwestern crap. People wouldn't know what jazz is if you directed a trumpet blast into their ear. Rusty is something like 85 years old. It's sad....

Claude Black from....Toledo, Ohio! Still plays around here though I haven't seen him.

Great job, Maren! Didn't quite know if anyone else knew John Berryman's stuff. The poems I quoted are obviously from his Dream Songs. I figured I'd introduce him here without naming him, and that he's a pretty good poet to introduce to people who are not necesssarily familiar with contemporarary/modern American poetry. My alltime favorite is Robert Lowell and I'll quote some of his stuff later. He was a greater poet than Berryman or anyone else of the 20th century, in my opinion, but I realize that these comparative arguments aren't strong.

It's not, nor should it be a zero sum game here.

Great photo, Barak!!

I saw it but the cameras didn't quite capture the hit which split the helmet. There was heavy hitting on both sides in that game.

Great picture Evan!

We assume that Rocky went out the way he wanted to.

It is because of KC's average defense that I think New England is the best team in football. KC is good, but they've only beaten two good teams: Denver (8 wins) and Miami (8 wins.) NE has defeated Philly (11 wins), Indy (10 wins), Tennesse (9 wins) Denver (8 wins) Miami twice! (8 wins) We're 7-0 against teams with wnning records this season. But the playoffs is another story! The past doesn't count much when that begins.

Bigtime overreaction, Jim. Indy's got some firepower. Tennesse will definitely win a wild card. Remember, Miami was set back with that loss to New England. Wild cards: Tennessee, Denver, Miami. No one else has a likely shot.

Tom's the one whose got Hill in that death grip. (Careful, Tom, he's a national treasure! )

And my last one. This is with my older sister who went with me to see Organissimo in Ann Arbor.

Hey that worked! I don't have too many digital pictures. Here's one of my son and I...

Thanks Dan. Here we go...this one is of me and my wife.

Old softie Conn is shedding tears! Sounds like she lived a long life. I've got a stray cat too, well he was an abandoned kitty. Now he belongs to Daddy. I never take him to the vet and he's strong, but that won't be forever. We declawed him and neutered him, but the declawing was a terrible proceedure and I'm not sure he has gotten over it to this day. He came in the other day all smelly from outside and we decided we had to give him a bath. He hated every moment of it and let out this plaintive yowl. For the first time, I recognized that I was wholly responsible for this animal. He's like a child. It was all there in that yowl.

I've thought about starting a thread like this except I don't know how to post a picture. Say I've got one on my desktop or in my documents. How do I get it over here?

Here are a few from a poet I really like. Will quote more if people like his stuff: Filling her compact & delicious body with chicken paprika, she glanced at me twice. Fainting with interest, I hungered back and only the fact of her husband & four other people kept me from springing on her or falling at her little feet and crying 'You are the hottest one for years of night Henry's dazed eyes have enjoyed Brilliance,' I advanced upon (despairing) my spumoni. --Sir Bones: is stuffed, de world, wif feeding girls. --Black hair, complexion Latin, jewelled eyes downcast...The slob beside her feasts...What wonders is she stting on, over there? The restaurant buzzes. She might as well be on Mars. Where did it all go wrong? there ought to be a law against Henry. --Mr Bones, there is. ----------------- God bless Henry. He lived like a rat, with a thatch of hair on his head in the beginning. Henry was not a coward. Much. He never deserted anything; instead he stuck, when things like pity were thinning. So may be Henry was a human being. Let's investigate that. ...We did; okay. He is a human and American man. That's true. My lass is braking. My brass is aching. Come & diminish me, & map my way. God's Henry's enemy. We're in business...Why, what business must be clear. A cornering. I couldn't feel more like it. --Mr. Bones, as I look on the saffron sky, you strikes me as ornery. ----------------------- The high ones die, die. They die. You look up and who's there? --Easy, easy, Mr. Bones. I is on your side. I smell your grief. --I sent my grief away. I cannot care forever. With them all again & again I died and cried, and I have to live. --Now there you exaggerate, Sah. We hafta die. That is our 'pointed task. Love & die. --Yes; that makes sense. But what makes sense between then? What if I roiling & babbling & braining, brood on why and just sat on the fence? --I doubts you did or do. De choice is lost. --It's fool's gold. But I go in for that. The boy & the bear looked at each other. Man all is tossed & lost with groin-wounds by the grand bulls, cat. William Faulkner's where? (Frost being still around.) --------------------------- I'm scared a lonely. Never see my son, easy be not to see anyone, combers out to sea know they're goin somewhere but not me. Got a little poison, got a little gun, I'm scared a lonely. I'm scared a only one thing, which is me, from othering I don't take nothin, see, for any hound dog's sake. But this is where I livin, where I rake my leaves and cop my promise, this' where we cry oursel's awake. Wishin was dyin but I gotta make it all this way to that bed on these feet where peoples said to meet. Maybe but even if I see my son forever never, get back on the take, free, black & forty-one. ---------------------------------- Bats have no bankers and they do not drink and cannot be arrested and pay no tax and, in general, bats have it made. Henry for joining the human race is bats, known to be so, by few them who think, out of the cave. Instead of the cave! ah lovely-chilly, dark, ur-moist his cousins hand in hundreds or swerve with personal radar, crisisless, kid. Instead of the cave? I serve, inside, my blind term. Filthy four-foot lights reflect on the whites of our eyes. He then salutes for sixty years of it just now a one of valor and insights, a theatrical man, O scholar & Legionnaire who as quickly might have killed as cast you. Ole. Stormed with years he tranquil commands and appears. --------------------- Also I love him: me he's done no wrong for going on forty years--forgiveness time-- I touch now his despair, he felt as bad as Whitman on his tower but he did not swim out with me or my brother as he threatened-- a powerful swimmer, to take one of us along as company in the defeat sublime, freezing my helpless mother: he only, very early in the morning, rose with his gun and went outdoors by my window and did what was needed. I cannot read that wretched mind, so strong & so undone. I've always tried. I--I'm trying to forgive whose frantic passage, when he could not live an instant longer, in the summer dawn left Henry to live on. -------------------------------- The marker slants, flowerless, day's almost done, I stand above my father's grave with rage, often, often before I've made this awful pilgrimage to one who cannot visit me, who tore his page out: I come back for more, I spit upon this dreadful banker's grave who shot his heart out in a Florida dawn O ho alas alas When will indifference come, I moan & rave I'd like to scrabble till I got right down away down under the grass and ax the casket open ha to see just how he's taking it, which he sought so hard we'll tear apart the mouldering grave clothes ha & then Henry will heft the ax once more, his final card, and fell it on the start.

Great Thread, Jazz! I haven't written any poetry for years, but here are a couple about my Bangkok years, which I wrote years ago, and I may have already posted them in another thread. 1/30/96 Nonday siesta in Hua Hin. The long climb up the hillside temple, Sitting on the embankment, Fanned by banana leaves. I stare into forever. The pull of week's imperatives Melt into hill vegetation below And the beach beyond. Windwashed Buddha: calm the ocean. Here in the pocket of the universe At this tick of time, in the arms of this hill May all things cease and ambition Be abeyant. Soft moment: lay your cloak on all which strive; Amber us now to where we are; Melt our sun-seeking wings. Searching for Sunday The wind shakes the tree in an ancient way. Day without agenda; and man the animal Of purpose bedding it on Sunday. Lizards streaking in timed spurts across the ceiling. Seeking the sun through frosted panes For reasons beyond the glare. Slack sails on a breezy Sunday. Such quiet drove Fritz to drink. One meets the light as haltingly as hesitantly As one enters a Chinaman's shop. Motorcycles roar at the green light, And I lie lost in the seven layers of my bed. Searching for Sunday in the whore's brown flesh. I know the exile's sorrow. (These aren't strictly autobiographical, btw, somewhat, but not entirely) Will dig up some real poets to quote.

Denver manhandles KC and New England stifles Miami. Best team in the NFL right now: New England Patriots! Just watch the power rankings on Tuesday. I smell Super Bowl. We've probably got the best defence in football even if statistics don't indicate it. PATS!!! (Sorry Evan)

My upset pick of the week: Denver defeats Kansas City today.

Looks like we all support you here, Jim.

Swap places with you... This is purely rhetorical but why on Earth would anyone voluntarily spend 3 1/2 hours watching the Browns or Lions? The Browns were a decent team last year and were definitely worth watching, but the Lions....I mean, Barry Sanders' recent comments regarding his early retirement speaks volumes. It would be nice to actually have a good team in this area. Well, they say NFL is characterized by parity. I guess it could happen.