blues – An Occasional Story or Magazine

Love in Vain

Love in vain

Love unrequited

Love through the ages

Love tumbling on the shores

“It’s hard to tell, hard to tell, when all your love’s in vain,” said Robert Johnson.

Click on the song to hear Bumba and Maybank doing it.

What more to say about love, unrequited or otherwise? Here’s an excerpt from my novel The Phantom Speaks in which the Phantom, an astral visitor to our planet, who for reasons unknow is also our protagonist Chester Knowles, pontificates on Love:

The full novel(s) are available on Amazon as ebooks or hard copy. Click on Bumba Books above

Love

Love. I heard some biologist say that love is the most powerful and most durable of all the emotional states. Think about it. From an evolutionary standpoint, love serves to attach human beings to each other and link them one to the other. They form friendships, partnerships, family clans, and larger social groups. All of which tend to increase the humans’ chances of survival. You know, they hunt together, then they share firewood. They keep each other warm. Love has definite survival value.

And love is also the thing that everybody feels compelled to sing about. Love. Love. Love. All those songs! Poems, books, movies, broken hearts, tears! Yatta, yatta, yatta. It goes on and on.

I can’t say that I really understand very much about it. Even after all this time, and all these lives, I remain largely in the dark. O.K., I know. Chester told me all about it. Chester was big on the feeling of love. He loved it, if you’ll excuse the expression. And most people love it as well. I’ve noticed that. In fact they treasure love. And they miss it so sorely and painfully when they don’t have it (which is most of the time from what I can see). Most people behave as though they are lacking love (whatever love is, we still haven’t defined it, at least I haven’t) and it seems that the poor things can never get enough of it. It is their fear that would appear to be holding them back, blocking things. Fear inhibits love generally. Fear and Love are almost polar opposites.

As a phantom-like aside, I would say that the key determinant in these matters of love and of psychological health in general seems to be whether or not you were loved as a child. As it turns out, Chester was lucky; he had a happy childhood. Let me add, in another phantom-like aside, that it happens all too often that a child, a baby, is not loved, coddled, sung to, carried around the house and out in the fields, shared with relatives, read stories to, played with, and told that they are good little boys or girls, etc. etc. It happens all too often that children/babies don’t get all that (OK, we’ll call it) love. And then these children grow up to become parents themselves. And how can they provide the necessary love to their kids when they themselves are consumed or absorbed, even obsessed with finding love for themselves? Luckily (or, more correctly, as a result of mammalian evolution) babies tend to be cute and irresistible. So things often work out well. It’s surprising how often things work out well – despite the odds. We’ll get to the evens later.

So everybody’s looking for love down there on planet earth. They are. And people will go to all sorts of lengths just for a little hug, a caress, a word of praise, perhaps the promise of a good roll in the sack. Especially for a good roll in the sack. Well, thanks again to the process of evolution, the animal, the organism, is wired to have it (call it love): ah, the embraces, the sex, the release, the pleasure, the peace. The company of another and the security of what they call love. And so needy and/or so deprived are the people down there on planet earth that they are more than willing to accept various and sundry substitutes for love: i.e., the various and assorted vicarious experiences: rock n’ roll revues, identifications with saints and movie stars, and the like. Freud called it sublimation, this moving toward, this branching out, into substitute venues.

In short, what this phantom is saying is that love is something very fundamental to the species. It’s quite important. Nothing to sneeze at. I myself, being a phantom, don’t understand too much about it, as I said. It’s like the Amazon jungle to me. Huge and incomprehensible. From what I read, (that’s right, phantoms can read, why not?) according to the schema of raja-yoga, love and the ability to feel for others, to empathize: this energy is centered in the heart, sweet valentine, at the fourth chakra – a spiritual step up (but only one step up) from the more “animal” centers of appetite and domination.

But, like I say, as a phantom, love is just something that’s out there. It’s a part of the world – just like everything else. It’s out there. It’s in your heart, as they say. And it’s out there too.

Fighting a Losing Battle But Having a Lot of Fun Trying to Win

Fighting a Losing Battle But Having a Lot of Fun Trying to Win is one of my favorite songs. Written by the great bluesman Brownie Mc Gee back in the 60’s, Fighting a Losing Battle But Having a Lot of Fun Trying to Win (what a title!) is a blues classic. Me and Maybank love to play it. It has a great chord progression.

December Magazine

Hail December! The Twelfth month!

Hail to the number twelve. Three cheers (four times) for the 12!!! !!! !!! !!!

The word twelve, whose early English-Germanic roots derive from “two left”- or two left over after counting to ten – completes a certain cycle for us. We count the hours by 12’s. After twelve o’clock we start counting again. Twice every day we count out twelve hours. And I hope you all know by now what time it is when your clock strikes thirteen. That’s right! Time to get your clock fixed!

The Sumerians, who bequeathed to us this lovely 12-based system of telling time, used a sexagonal number system, which means based on the 60. The Sumerian year was divided into twelve 30-day months, in accordance with the twelve signs of the zodiac. A Sumerian year thus had exactly 360 days. However, 5 days remained unaccounted for! The Sumerians solved this little problem by declaring five “free” holiday days at the end of each year. After five days of New Year’s partying, no one apparently cared that the math didn’t work out so perfect. Anyhow, we still divide our days and nights into 12 hour segments, each hour being further subdivided into 60 minutes, and each minute into 60 seconds. Likewise, based on the Sumerian system, we use 360 degrees to measure a circle. Works out pretty well.

Twelve has a lot of factors: 2, 6, 3, and 4. There are twelve inches in a foot, twelve notes in the chromatic scale, twelve days of Christmas, and twelve tribes of Israel. Of course, there are 12 signs in the zodiac – which probably lies at the bottom of all this 12 business. We have twelve jurors, and twelve AA steps to sobriety. Also, there were twelve Olympians, twelve knights at the Round table, twelve pence to a shilling, and twelve eggs to the dozen.

Which all brings us back to twelve months in the year. Yes, at long last we are coming to the end of the year, thank goodness. May the next twelve months be healthy and safe ones. A Happy and Safe Holiday Season to all!

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Twelve Gates to the City

December Magazine

Hail December! The Twelfth month!

Hail to the number twelve. Three cheers (four times) for the ol’ 12, the number on the top of the clock!!

The word twelve, whose early English-Germanic roots derive from “two left”, or two left over after counting to ten, completes a certain cycle for us. After twelve o’clock we start to count the hours again. Twice every day we count out twelve hours. And I hope you know by now what time it is when your clock strikes thirteen. That’s right! Time to get your clock fixed!

The Sumerians, who bequeathed to us this lovely 12-based system of telling time, used a sexagonal number system, which means based on the 60. The Sumerian year was divided into twelve 30-day months, in accordance with the twelve signs of the zodiac. A Sumerian year thus had exactly 360 days. However, 5 days remained unaccounted for! The Sumerians solved this little problem by declaring five “free” holiday days at the end of each year. After five days of New Year’s partying, no one cared that the math didn’t work out so perfect. Anyhow, we still divide our days and nights into 12 hour segments, each hour further subdivided into 60 minutes, and each minute into 60 seconds. Likewise, based on the Sumerian system, we use 360 degrees to measure a circle. Works out pretty well.

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Twelve Gates to the City

Another Blues “Original”

I ain’t much of a songwriter, I don’t suppose. I never sold anything or made any money from it. Once or twice, years ago, I recorded a cassette tape and sent it to a music publisher. A couple of times I tried to audition as a folksinger. To no success. Still, over the years I think I wrote a couple of good ones. Nowadays, I barely write songs at all. I suppose it’s an age-related phenomenon. Sometimes, though, when I’m playing guitar or piano, a good lyric comes into my head. Anyway, here’s one that I like to play. It’s a blues, and there’s nothing new or original when it comes to the blues. It’s called Evening Train Blues. It’s a happy blues.

I’ve pontificated on the three chord progression and the glory of the blues in earlier posts, so no need to go through all that stuff again, but I will remind everyone to keep their spirits up, and to “keep playin’ that country music”.

December Magazine

Hail December! The Twelfth month!

Hail to the number twelve. Three cheers (four times) for the ol’ 12, the number on the top of the clock!!

The Sumerians, who bequeathed to us this lovely 12-based system of telling time, used a sexagonal number system, which means based on the 60. The Sumerian year was divided into twelve 30-day months, in accordance with the twelve signs of the zodiac. A Sumerian year thus had exactly 360 days. However, 5 days remained unaccounted for! The Sumerians solved this little problem by declaring five “free” holiday days at the end of each year. After five days of New Year’s partying, no one cared that the math didn’t work out so perfect. Anyhow, we still divide our days and nights into 12 hour segments, each hour further subdivided into 60 minutes, and each minute into 60 seconds. Likewise, based on the Sumerian system, we use 360 degrees to measure a circle. Works out pretty well.

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Another Blues “Original”

I ain’t much of a songwriter. I admit it. Many moons ago I wrote a couple of good ones. Once or twice I made a cassette tape and sent it to a music publisher. This was in the days they had cassette tapes. I believe I received a polite rejection letter. Nowadays, I barely write songs anymore. All the same, sometimes, when I’m playing guitar or piano, a good lyric comes along. Anyway, there’s nothing new or original when it comes to the blues. Here’s one that I started to play a year or two ago – It’s called Evening Train Blues. It’s a happy blues.

I’ve pontificated on the blues and on the three chord progression in earlier posts, so no need to go through all that stuff again. All that stuff about tradition and simplicity. But, I will remind everyone to keep their spirits up, and “keep playin’ that country music”.

Fool’s Paradise

A Fool’s Paradise is an expression that describes “a state of enjoyment based on false beliefs or hopes; a state of illusory happiness.” From a mental health perspective – and, come to think of it, from nearly all perspectives I can think of – to live in a fool’s paradise is not a good thing. Living in a fool’s paradise is to be avoided. What’s generally recommended is to doggedly maintain a realistic approach, to face life soberly, to see things as they are. Of course, when an individual is living in a fool’s paradise, he or she is typically foolish and unaware of their error. That’s why they call it a fool’s paradise. a definite quandary! Still, even if and when we are living in a fool’s paradise, it’s good to be aware of it. It’s a good start. Here’s Maybank doing a sweet rendition of the song.

The song was written in the early 1950’s by Mable Cordle, Bob Geddins and Johnny Fuller, and recorded by Fuller in 1954. Sam Cooke recorded it in 1963. Leon Russell and Willie Nelson and many others blues artists also have recorded the song. It has some nice chords for a blues song. And the message is sobering and instructive. Keep it real.

December Magazine

Contents: TWO POEMS, A SALUTE TO DECEMBER AND TO THE NUMBER TWELVE, plus some Duogesimal Meanderings

A SCIENCE POEM

E=mc2

Nothing is faster than light

I conceptualized the race

(It was a thought experiment)

And, well, Nothing won…

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A CHILD’S POEM

Fat and Skinny had a race

All around the pillow case

Fat fell down and broke his face

Skinny won the race

What a terrific poem! Better than that science one I just made up about Nothing. I remember “Fat and Skinny had a race” from the depths of my childhood. Apparently, my brain, and most likely your brain, too, and all of our poor, tired, little brains, are sprinkled with these memory traces: poems, nursery rhymes and ditties – cultural imprints if you will (every culture has ’em ) – little rhymes and songs that remain with us for life, just sitting there, hanging out up there inside our crania, all electrically coded into the grey and white matter of our poor, over-evolved brains. They (the ditties, not any of the grey matter, thank Goodness) occasionally rise to the surface as what we call “memories”. Anyhoo, the rhyme about Fat and Skinny is one I can clearly recall knowing and singing at a very early age. I recall that, as a toddler, I pictured Laurel and Hardy running around a bed, racing in circles. I associate the song with my grandmother – I’m sure she recited it to me – which gives the silly poem a very warm glow for me, not to mention the Laurel and Hardy image.

Fat and Skinny had a race

All around the pillow case

Fat fell down and broke his face

Skinny won the race

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Hail December! The Twelfth month!

Hail to the number twelve. Three cheers (four times) for the ol’ 12, the number with so many easy factors: 2,6, 3,4. The number on the top of the clock! Hurray for the end of the Julian year, and the beginning of a new one. Twelve more months! Twelve more reasons to celebrate. Hurray (12 hurrays) for Marina Kanavaki for creating such beautiful calendars for us!

The word twelve, whose early English-Germanic roots derive from “two left”, or two left over after counting to ten, completes the cycle for us. After twelve o’clock we start counting the hours again. Every day (actually twice a day) we count twelve hours. And you know, of course, what time it is when your clock strikes thirteen? That’s right! Time to get your clock fixed!

Happy Holiday Season to all! Dozens of long-stemmed roses for the twelve days of Christmas. Twelve songs of praise from the Twelve chromatic notes, Twelve hurrahs from the Twelve Tribes of Israel. Additionally, twelve shout-outs from the Twelve signs of the zodiac! Hail the 12 and Happy Holidays and a Happy New Year to all!

Here’s Twelve Gates to the City to get you started on a happy twelfth month.

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Low Down Blues

This is my own little blues song titled Low Down Blues. It’s the only song I’ve written of late and I just love to play it on piano. I’ve played it several times on the blog already, so apologies. But I think I’m getting it better! We’ve talked about this before. Anyhoo, I’ve been playing it regularly for a few years already! I’m just stuck with this song, and with the Low Down Blues

I guess it’s kinda natural to have the low-down blues what with the impeachment hearings going on. The “new normal” chills my bones. I fear that the argument for impeachment will somehow not be convincing enough, or that it simply is not listened to by enough people, and that the President could yet survive these impeachmeny hearings. The witnesses’ testimony has been most interesting, most impressive, and all of the government officials who testified appear to be highly intelligent and capable individuals. The case against the President seems to be of the open and shut variety. I suppose you still have to decide whether to call his behavior bribery or extortion. Yet it all may not be enough. Schiff and his committee are doing their duty. If the American people cannot add two plus two, then, what else can they do?