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Taking Dancing for Granted
John, I always enjoy the way you craft words. There are always layers, and that is a sign of a truly great writer. "Relaxed and attentive"---that made me choke on my coffee with the Verb that Doth Not Speak It's Name. Hope you are having a great week. It's always 30 degrees cooler here than in SoCal.— May 1, 2008 8:03 a.m.
Taking Dancing for Granted
Thanks again, Brother John. A fantastic story. And like most things in modern life, if it isn't true, it ought to be! I was going to ask if you meant that your former guitarist went "down in the anals of obscurity" or "down in the annals of obscurity"? But the former may indeed be what you meant, especially where Jose Sinatra is involved. I was thinking of you the other evening, when I was listening to a random mix of music from my computer. "Spill the Wine" by War came on. We used to make fun of the song, as you recall. When I first heard it, I didn't recognize Eric Burdon's voice doing the drug-addled proto-white-rap. Compare it to "We Gotta Get Out of This Place" or "House of the Rising Sun." Didn't you interview Burdon once? Or was it Patrick McNee? Neil Young may have been right. Funny bit I heard from the comedian Dennis Miller. Many years ago, he was doing Saturday Night Live, and Phil Collins was a musical guest (in the horrific Su-su-sudio phase of his life). Anyway, Collins knocks on Miller's dressing room door. He says he has a friend who wanted to meet Miller. Eric Clapton walked in. Miller enthused how much he enjoyed Clapton's work. He told Clapton he particularly enjoyed "Cross Road Blues." Clapton waited a beat, then said "You could have picked something I wrote." Hilarity ensued. Thanks for the reply, John. I still feel great existential angst at the intersection of "Jose Sinatra" and "puppet shows." Brrrr.— April 29, 2008 8:26 p.m.
Taking Dancing for Granted
Hi Brother John: I don't know how often you check this message board. But remember the time you had some neighbors complaining about your playing music too loud? You told me you considered lugging an amp up to the roof, plugging in your guitar, and shouting: "I am the God of Hellfire And I come to bring you.... FIRE!" Who did that tune? Your discussion of bygone music made me think of that. And the Troggs.— April 28, 2008 11:12 p.m.
Taking Dancing for Granted
Hey, I call 'em as I see 'em, Brother John. How many times have you defended me? Many. How could I do less for you? Please go have one of those carne asada burritos from Alberto's for me, would you? It has been a long time indeed since I lived in San Diego, but those were sure good. Ditto the chicken quesadilla (broiled) at the Old Town Mexican Cafe. Hope your foot heals up quickly...— April 24, 2008 3:24 p.m.
Taking Dancing for Granted
Nice column as usual, John. I hope you continue to be on the mend. And I am pleased to see that you still "own" what you do---a rara avis in today's society. That is, when you barked at people at the hospital, you called to apologize later. Some folks would have just shrugged their shoulders and insisted that the pain made them do it. It was the right thing to do. But then, and I mean this sincerely, you have always had a strong sense of honor. Again, I enjoyed the verbal foxtrot of this week's column!— April 23, 2008 4:28 p.m.
Let the Old Brain Percolate
Hi, Johnnie B. Nice antinomy-shoutout to the month of April! You remember what T.S. Eliot wrote about April, I know. I remember many of the incidents to which you refer. But I also remember a certain telephone message from a heart-assaulting ex-girlfriend of yours. To amuse you, I altered the profoundly manipulative and narcissistic message she left into a admission of gender dysphoria. Good times. Just remember the lyrics to The Smith's "Unhappy Birthday." Remember your brilliant re-writing of a certain song from "West Side Story"? Can't wait to see next week's observations of the Rich Tapestry of Life...as always, I enjoy your columns very much.— April 18, 2008 5:02 p.m.
You Should Go to Church
Dear Ms. Cooke: I am guessing that John Brizzolara has replied to you separately. But I have to tell you that I have known John since 1988, and there is not a single racist or sexist bone in his body. Truth. It is also true that the written word (or blog entry) lacks all other "cues" we enjoy in conversation or even on the telephone. John doesn't need me or anyone else to defend him, but I wanted to suggest that he was just trying to be ironic.— April 18, 2008 4:54 p.m.
You Should Go to Church
Brother John, I once lived in a "Junior One Bedroom" apartment (read studio) in La Jolla. I put a french bread pizza in the oven to cook, and dozed on the couch. I was awakened by the blaring of the smoke alarm. Rather than being smart, like your son's friend, and simply putting the smoking carcass of the pizza on the cookie sheet in the sink, and turn on the water, I triggered the little fire extinguisher I had. Yellow clouds of gritty nastiness everywhere. But no fire. On the other hand, I could have just dunked the cookie sheet in the sink two feet away. But you are right about one thing: a weekend like that makes the workweek seem like a holiday! Thanks for the story, my friend.— April 9, 2008 6:58 p.m.
Voices of the Damned
Given the SRV article in today's Read, Brother John, you *must* write about our experiences chronicling a group in the grip of tertiary stage Stevie Ray Vaughn Syndrome. With stunt chests. Hope you are doing well.— April 9, 2008 9:25 a.m.
Voices of the Damned
Dear Johnnie B.: Hey, I enjoyed "The Dresden Files." If you get a chance, you should see the television series they made of it for one season on SciFi. The changes they made to the premise for television actually work. When you were carrying out your incantation, I flashed on James Blish's "Black Easter." Be careful, old friend. Those who watch Outside wait....— April 2, 2008 4:58 p.m.