Quote

Sexy isn't about being perfect, it's about owning what you've got.

~Ann Bowen

Sitting at the sidebar

Never Let Me Go, by Keith Jarrett.

Believing is hearing

I have a goal I'm looking to reach by summer, and part of that entails a nightly trip to the gym. It's cold tonight, 7 degrees with the wind-chill, but I ventured out nonetheless.

When I arrived, I took off my coat, gloves and scarf, and put on my iPod. I climbed aboard the elliptical trainer, the music started playing then suddenly, it stopped.

No.

NO MORE BATTERY, it read, PLUG INTO CHARGER NOW.

No.

It was 11:00 P.M., freezing outside and I had a major work-out in front of me. How would I possibly do it without music?

This is like death I said to myself, but then I had a thought. It's bitter cold, that's the problem! Maybe if I warm up the iPod it will come back to life. So I stuck it into in the pocket of my sweatshirt and held it there. I pulled it out a minute later, selected a song and it played... for about ten seconds until it shut off again. The battery was really dead.

But then I had more thoughts; thoughts about beliefs, the nature of reality and quantum physics! I thought how badly I needed my music, and that if somehow I could wipe out, not only the knowledge but the belief I had that the battery was dead, I might be able to recreate what was happening physically in the moment!

I reached for the iPod again, this time assuming it would work, expecting it to work, knowing it would work! I put on the headphones, turned on the music... and it played! Ten seconds passed and as the music continued, I worked out, staying far away from all thoughts and feelings related to the previous death of the battery, as well as all thoughts and feelings related to the current and apparent life of the battery! Thirty seconds passed, then forty-five minutes were behind me and every song had played just as I expected!

One step closer to the goal, I got off the machine, put on my coat, gloves and scarf, and the minute I opened the door and hit that freezing cold, that battery died one more time.

In real time

Dark and cold outside, Annie is bathed and fed and walking home with her daddy. Zakir Hussain makes music and I am thankful for a new friend I've made.

Lingo lessons

Annie: "Mom! No one uses the word details anymore! You have to say 'deets!"

Quote

You have to give up the life you have to get the life that's waiting for you.

~James Hillman, Jungian psychologist.

Monday morning light

Gift

For David's birthday, I gave him Indian wind chimes and ten years added to his life.

Sitting at the sidebar again

Hank Mobley's Recado Bossa Nova.

I'll crave if I want to

I always thought my desire for male attention was a bad thing, but in the book, Intimate Communion, author David Deida says that the more feminine a woman is, the more she will crave this attention, and that it is completely normal!

So there!

While I was sleeping

My Mom: "Katie can't even make a mean face, she just doesn't have a mean face. "

David: "You haven't seen her after a nap."

No doubt about it

Me: "I wonder what's funnier, a Californian transplanted in New York, or a New Yorker transplanted in California."

David: "A New Yorker transplanted in California... definitely."

Bruce Orion

In Sedona, I had the pleasure of spending time with Bruce Orion, who is not only an astrologer, historian and hypnotist, but also a lovely and decent human being.

I'd never been under hypnosis before, and Bruce asked me to list five things I wanted to address, things I wanted "fixed." One was something I had for years, a stress-related habit of holding my breath. Initially I considered it a "lesser" issue, but after one session, when the depth of my breathing improved by a hundred percent, I understood that it was not "lesser" at all. I realized that without the simple ability to breath deeply, I was limited in most areas of my life.

Higher on the list was something related to my relationships with men, and since my session, I've seen a remarkable change in that area as well. I'm repeatedly finding myself in situations where I would normally be catapulted into places of emotional unrest, grief or despair, but now, although my sadness is still intact (thank goodness!), I have an overwhelming sense of acceptance relating to these situations, a strength I once believed I simply did not possess.

Bruce has a creative, intuitive and intelligent way of looking at the physical and metaphysical, and I'm happy to be the recipient of his gifts through his flawless interpretation of my astrology chart, and through his system for hypnosis, which has already begun to radically change my life.

I'll be having another session with Bruce in New York in June, please click here to learn more about his work and to schedule a session for yourself.

I've also posted his web address at the Half Note's links section, and if that's not enough of a testimony, feel free to email me with questions.

A people's pain

I'm finally reading Howard Zinn's, A People's History of the United States. It's an amazing book, I am committed to finishing it, but the question is, how will I do that without ending up in tears at the end of each of its 600 pages?

Her version

Click here.

Happy Birthday David

One of the seven most important people in my life.

Sitting at the sidebar

Something for Dave's birthday by one of his favorites, Bebo Valdez.

In her words

Annie: "Poor Daddy, today is his birthday and it's the same day that Buddha died."

Me: "Maybe Daddy is Buddha reincarnated."

Annie: "But Daddy's not fat and naked!"

Challah at me

Annie: "Do Jews call it "Hollah" because they're ghetto?"

(Hollah, a ghetto word derived from the word Holler, used in greeting--Urban Dictionary.)

Secret...

I can't bring myself to wash Sedona off my shoes.

A leveling life

Where I live is crooked. My bedroom floor is slanted and if you place a marble down, watch it roll away. To keep it balanced, my bed is propped up on four books of varying widths and the windows are lopsided too. When I lay in the bath I am compelled to tilt my head so I can feel as if the tub isn't on a slope. One side of my refrigerator stands on a wooden chip and so does my stove. My kitchen cabinets, though tightly secure, look as if they're about to fall.

The water pressure in my shower is weak and sometimes tiles pop out without warning. Across the way lives a crazy family that shouts at one other from morning till night, then suddenly appears to be away on holiday for days on end.

In April I am moving down the street to a place with a big kitchen, a claw-foot tub and leveled floors, and I cannot wait to be there. But tonight, as I sit listening to music in the misshapen rooms I have called home for the past year and a half, I am reminded of what I will leave behind.

I have spent countless hours sitting on these slanted floors, staring at these crooked walls, and discovering a woman who, following a straight line, I finally began to recognize as me.

Loud & clear

At the beginning of the year, Annie joined the school band and much to my delight began playing... the trombone. Every week she'd come home and tell me how she was excelling at the instrument and how excited she was but I admit, I didn't exactly share her enthusiasm. I smiled of course, told her how great it all was, but eventually I would try, in subtle ways, to suggest she might prefer trumpet or saxophone. Dreams rushed through my head, my baby girl playing Clifford, Lee and Miles, jamming on stage at the Vanguard while I sat in the audience with pride in my heart and tears in my eyes. OK., so perhaps I get carried away.

One day Annie asked if I'd consider buying her a trombone and I actually said the following: "How about the trumpet? If you like the trumpet, I'll buy you one."

As always she was aghast at my suggestion and I, as always, knew what an awful mother I was. But somehow, in this area I am like a runaway train and simply can not stop myself.

Today Annie broached the subject again of purchasing a trombone, but this time I was ready. Regardless of my own dreams of the future, I was going to support my little trombonist no matter what! And then I said it.

"Don't you want to try the trumpet, just once?"

Annie gasped.

"Mom!" she said. "You're like one of those mothers who wants their child to grow up and be a fashion model and all the kid wants to do is be a scientist!"

And in that moment I went to my CD collection, put on Sanctified Shells by Steve Turre, one of the most innovative and beautiful trombonists I have ever heard.

Look out Steve, here comes Annie.

100 Greatest Jazz Trombonists

1. Jay Jay Johnson
2. Curtis Fuller
3. Glenn Miller
4. Tommy Dorsey
5. Edward 'Kid' Ory
6. Jack Teagarden
7. Kai Winding
8. Jimmy Knepper
9. Slide Hampton
10. Frank Rosolino
11. Melba Liston
12. Al Grey
13. Joe 'Tricky Sam' Nanton
14. Urbie Green
15. Willie Dennis
16. Grachan Moncur III
17. Wayne Henderson
18. Ronald Westray
19. Wycliffe Gordon
20. Honore Dutrey
21. Bob Brookmeyer
22. Jimmy Cleveland
23. Bennie Green
24. Bill Watrous
25. Steve Turre
26. George Bohannon
27. Jaun Tizol
28. Delfeayo Marsalis
29. Dickie Wells
30. Lawrence Brown
31. Fred Beckett
32. Jiggs Whigham
33. Milt Bernhart
34. Carl Fontana
35. Eddie Bert
36. Tom Brown
37. Phil Wilson
38. Grover Mitchell
39. Eddie Edwards
40. Clifton Anderson
41. Josh Roseman
42. Bruce Fowler
43. Julien Priester
44. Buddy Morrow
45. Alvin "Zoo" Robinson
46. Eddie Atkins
47. Ray Anderson
48. Britt Woodman
49. Micheal Davis
50. Roy Palmer
51. J.C. Higgenbotham
52. Miff Mole
53. Charlie Green
54. Dave Horler
55. Gary Valente
56. Taswell "Little Joe" Baird
57. Al Cron
58. James "Trummy" Young
59. Christopher Muthspiel
60. Dave Horler
61. Christopher Schweizer
62. Roswell Rudd
63. Douglas Purviance
64. Mike Fahn
65. Rick Culver
66. Robin Eubanks
67. Conrad Herwig
68. George Chisholm
69. Rick Stepton
70. Ed Neumeister
71. Louis Nelson
72. Frank Demond
73. Jim Robinson
74. George Brunies
75. Bill Hughes
76. Clarence Banks
77. Bennie Morton
78. Floyd Brady
79. Laurie "Nobby" Clarke
80. Jack Jones
81. Jake Wiley
82. Jimmy Wilson
83. Tony Thorpe
84. Sam Elliott
85. Harry Roche
86. Art Baron
87. Frank Lacy
88. John Fedchock
89. Milt Larkin
90. Fred Mercer
91. Chuck Conners
92. John Sanders
93. Bill Harris
94. Claude Jones
95. Dennis Rollins
96. Rick Simerly
97. Eric Breeze
98. Dave Taylor
99. Ted Heath
100. Sam Burtis

Maternal moment #789,333

On March 1st I'm taking Annie to see Francis Dunnery perform. Now I have to get a babysitter for the dog.

Does it ever end?

Sleuth report

After a complete investigation of my friend's son's current living situation, I have concluded that the area in which he now resides is adequate and poses no more threat of danger than might be present in any other urban environment.

~Secret Agent Woman, Katie Bowen.

Secret agent woman

My girlfriend's son recently moved to New York City to pursue an acting career. He gave his mother his new address and reassured her he was living in a good neighborhood. However, when she told me the address, I suspected otherwise.

Tomorrow I am making a trip downtown to investigate and report back.

From the schoolyard

"Your Mom is so ghetto!"

~What a classmate told Annie yesterday.

Confession

While walking down the grocery aisle, I started to cry when I heard John Denver's, Sunshine on my Shoulder.

Me: How are you, Mom?

Mom: I'm different.

Sitting at the sidebar

John McLaughlin plays one of my favorites by Bill Evans, We Will Meet Again.

Unsolicited advice from me

Go see a 3-D movie on a date if you want to have fun. Don't see a 3-D movie on a date if you're concerned with looking cute.

Secret's out

Annie: "For a long time, I thought the song 'Secret Agent Man' was actually 'Secret Asian Man.'"

May, 1949

My beautiful mother.

Collaborative effort

Annie: I made up a joke.

Katie: Tell it.

Annie: What do you call a hobo who lives in the North Pole?

Katie: What?

Annie: A snow-bo.

David: Good one.

Annie: What do you call a hobo that's a prostitute?

Katie: What?

Annie: A ho-bo.

David: What do you call a prostitute that lives in the North Pole?

Annie: What?

David: A ho-ho-bo.

Katie: What do you call a prostitute that hangs around Santa Claus?

David: What?

Katie: A ho-ho... ho.

In real time

While Annie drinks hot chocolate and writes a story on the laptop, Keith Jarrett, Gary Peacock and Jack DeJohnette put an interesting spin on some standards.

Sitting at the sidebar

On my recent trip to Sedona, I was put under hypnosis by my friend Bruce Orion. We addressed several things I wanted to work on, and since I was making a wish list, I decided I needed a better body. After the session Bruce said he'd be surprised if, in the next 4 months, I did not have the body I wanted.

Though I'm not sure my abs will ever resemble the cover of this album, that's OK. because we all know it's the music that matters.

Click on the sidebar selection to hear Spyro Gyra playing Simple Pleasures.

From the inbox

An email from Annie:

MOMMY! I'M SO GLAD YOU'RE HOME!!!! OOOOO WHAT DID YOU GET ME?!

YAY YOU'RE HOME!!!

Baby

Cat flight

On the plane from San Francisco, 2 flight attendants tried to show me their claws after I requested a glass of half water and half orange juice. Only problem was, they didn't know they were messing with a lioness.

Oops.

The way things aren't

At the airport in Charlotte, I thought I heard the man at the gate announce: "Will you kindly take your chickens out of their envelopes before boarding."

When he repeated the announcement, I realized he said tickets... not chickens.

The way I see it

I carried a camera when I was with him, but the more time we spent together the less compelled I was to take his picture. I didn't want to return home and look at a photograph of a man far away who I wanted close. I also knew that what I felt for him could not be captured, and that a paper image of his face might actually diminish my memory.

In my dreams

I just woke from a dream that I was on a very long flight to somewhere at night. The plane bumped up and down a few times and I was afraid, but I was able to quickly let go of my fear because I knew I was going to reach my destination unharmed.

Go Giants

Go, Patriots.

Sitting at the sidebar

Go Giants... I mean Giant Steps by John Coltrane.

In my dreams

Just now I woke from a dream that I was in a little gray car with a man I love. He and I were teasing one another, pretending to have thick southern accents and making each other laugh really hard.

Safe landing

I won't say my trip was without turbulence, but I am home now, fully intact.

Evolving 101

When, for the first time in your life you experience deep sadness and not only is it void of despair, anguish and confusion, but you can actually feel it giving you strength.