Zither or Guitar

Verble holds up the canvas of the new Picasso he has just purchased at auction in the Netherlands. "Isn't she beautiful?" he asks.





"What is it?" says Niall Carter, sitting a few stools down, warming his hands around his steaming mug.





"It's called 'Woman with Guitar or Zither' - Picasso, circa 1911," says Verble proudly.

Steppenwolf snorts. "You mean even he couldn't tell?"

"He got lost!" shouts out Lucky Moran, sitting at table four with Otis Redwing.





"Philistines!" growls Verble, as Steppenwolf and Niall burst into laughter.





Verble picks up the painting, somewhat roughly, and begins to start toward his office, when the Barista says to him, in a rare serendipitous moment, "Come on, Verb, why don't you put it up here behind the counter? There's a good spot by the espresso machine."





Verble stops. A pause. A smile begins to pull up at the corners of his mouth. "Why, my dear," he says with true amazement, "surely there IS indeed one of you who can appreciate art."





"Sure, I have a good eye for art," she says. "Plus, it'll go just right with the colour of chalk I'm going to use on the board to advertise the new cherry mocha grande!"

A few notes on bracing

Bracing: a bracing wind is a strong wind, usually very chilly. To brace yourself means to prepare yourself for something difficult, such as bad news or a hard physical assault of some kind.



Bracing, in the world of the Acoustic Guitar, is something more graceful, more structurally beautiful.



I found a good explanation on another website (http://www.thecraftmanspath.com/ from a post on April 8, 2008):



Whereas the back braces are a bit more structural in nature, the top actually has a more complex bracing pattern that keeps it strong but also allows it to vibrate giving the guitar its unique tone.



Just the description itself leads me to imagine this guitar, I can feel the warmth emanating just from the words around that most wonderful instrument that God himself gave Humanity the ability to create.



So, the next time you hear a guitar playing a song so incredibly beautiful that your breath stops short, just remember that all its parts are working in unison, even down to the bracing inside.

Overheard at the Counter?

Was it Lucky Moran who was talking about the book he'd just read? Or was it Steppenwolf who was talking about the book the Barista had just read? Or Payne? Or Verble? Or even John Canada, who had so many books on his reading list, dating back decades, that he never would be able to get around to reading anything anybody ever suggested to him?

Were they even sitting at the counter? Would you, if you had the chance, go down to the Zen and Tao Acoustic Cafe to listen to Ani DiFranco play every Thursday night, the Waifs all weekend on the rare weekend they made it to town, and even Warren Zevon, who still, even after death, still manages to make it by on the occasional Monday evening?

Was the book they were reading even a novel? Or was it just a series of questions, like those I am asking you now? Was it both a series of questions AND a novel? What, these days, even IS a novel? Can we really describe it? Does it matter? Do we care? If we do, then why? Or conversely, why not?

Was it Payne or was it the Barista who noted that the one point at which it seemed as though there might be a plot was the point at which the author mentioned a girl who asked an unusual question, and then pages later posed the question as to whether you might be seduced by a girl who asked such a question? Was that intentional or was it a slip? Was the author inserting an indescretion from his near past of which he may or may not have been somewhat proud?

And you would agree, as I would agree, that Lucky Moran and Steppenwolf both, in unison, concurred that the apex of the novel, which lay toward the end, and was well worth the wait, was the expansive, extensive series of questions that lasted for two and a half pages and centered around every possible reaction that you might have should Jimi Hendrix suddenly show up and begin to play guitar?

Also, wouldn't you no longer be surprised, especially having read the Barista's comments regarding The Shining, that she was the one who noted that the author told much more of himself through his questions than he obsfucated? Would you now nod your head in understanding when she pointed out that the very choice of questions revealed a white American male most likely in his mid to late fifties, simply by noting that his questions focused on what was important to that age group, that ethnicity, that gender, and even mentioned rather nostalgically certain cultural icons that were icons only in the fourth preceding decade?

Could you even follow that last question? Would you be surprised if I told you I myself don't even want to re-read it, as it scares me so?

Will you go find that book now? Have I even told you the title? Is it The Interrogative Mood, a Novel?

God is Not Good . . .

. . . .

HE'S AWESOME!!!!

It's just that sometimes it's hard for us to conceive.

You know . . . we've only got about eight pounds of grey matter, and we are limited by synaptic responses, a mixture of electrical charges and chemical messages. And while the brain is still a fantastic universe of improbabilities on its own, it's still limited by the physical restraints: electricity can only go so far. Chemical reactions have only a finite capability.

Basically, I'm saying that's where faith comes in to play: to know that there is something that can't be understood, and to follow that something. That's faith.

But! To be SATISFIED with that, well, that takes courage!

Some would call that ignorance. Some would call it blind stupidity. I completely understand those who feel that way; I understand those who would call me to the mat for my own hypocricy, weaknesses, failings, angers, anxieties, and disbeliefs: me, who supposedly calls myself a Christian! What an idiot! What a fool! Believing in something that we can't begin to understand.

I could say, "Well, we believe in the universe. We believe in the billions of years it took for dinosaurs to become oil. We believe in nuclear reactions. And even the experts can not truly understand it - and the experts are only a tiny tiny fraction of all us wiggly little humans down here.

So I suppose I'll just end with this: I've been stupid for a lot of things. I've been stupid for girls, I've been stupid for cars, I've been stupid with my money, I've been stupid with jobs (that I've lost!), so I figure that if I'm going to run around being so stupid, well, it might as well be for something greater than anything ever conceived.

And someone who tells me that He knows exactly what kind of idiot I am . . . and who loves me anyway!

The Shining

Verble sitting at the counter with Lucky Moran and John Steppenwolf, talking about nothing at all, when for no apparent reason, blurts out,

"You know, there just come those moments on a Saturday night, when it's getting late, and you just have to watch The Shining."

Steppenwolf says, "Now that you mention it, I think you're right . . .. 'Honey! - I'm home!' - classic!"

Verble says, "And really, I don't even know why, it's just one of those things."

Lucky Moran says, "My dad let me watch it when I was a kid - scared the pee out of me. I mean, I was a kid myself still riding around on my big wheel. and those girls! 'Come play with us - forEVER and EVER and EVER!' Man, that still gives me the heebie jeebies!''

"Know what you mean," says the Steppenwolf, "Every time I stay in an old hotel, with carpet and REALLY long hallways, I keep expecting to see those girls."

"In many ways it was a pinnacle production for three great talents, and that's why I think it was so powerful: Stephen King really exploded onto the horror story scene with that one, and in many ways it is still the standard for all his books. Stanley Kubrick, I mean wow! The guy had already blown the world away with A Clockwork Orange and 2001, and now here's this horror story, and then, of course, Jack Nicholoson!"

"Nickolson was the only guy who could have done that part," says Lucky. "I mean, heck, people don't even remember the characters name!"

"Wasn't it Jack?" says Steppenwolf.

"All I can remember is him sticking his head through the hole in the door saying, 'Heeeerre''s Johnny!' - What is it about that face through the door? Why has that become such an icon?"

"It's got to be that look," says Verble. "That look on his face . . . pure malevolent evil."

The Barista, walking up to the men, offers this, "You are essentially accurate when you state that it was the culmination of work by three masters of their craft: the story, the art of the film, and the actor. But at the heart of it all, really, the key to the continuing popularity of the film is that it enacts the secret fantasy of every man . . . which is to chop his wife and children to bits with an ax."

The three men are silent for a few moments. Finally, Verble asks, "Your film study class is being taught by a feminist, isn't it?"

The Barista's mouth curls slightly. "She does have a Master's in Women's Studies, yeah."

The men groan loudly, "Oh yeah!" "Knew it" "Good god!" and moving their arms and turning their heads side to side.

"But that doesn't mean it's not a valid point!"

"All feminist interpretation and no sheer fun make Barista a dull movie watcher!" says Lucky.

"Thanks a lot!" says Verble. "I don't think I'll be able to watch it again, not after hearing that! Tell your feminist boss thanks for ruining a perfect guy movie"

The Barista replies dryly, "And I'm sure she'll be happy to know that she's put one more notch in her belt!"

Book Club at the Counter

and Henry Roderick Payne is telling the Barista about the latest book just finished, in his unfailing attempt to get her to read ("I do read," she told him a few days ago, "I read every text message ever sent to me!" - then she smiled coyly and sauntered away, while he bled out all over his mocha grande):

"The Lighthouse, the Cat, and the Sea, subtitled A something Fable, but told from the point of view of a thirty-year-old cat - God I love cat narrators! It goes from the birth on the boat to different characters of the shipmates . . . and I swear the mariners were just like the characters on the flying pirate boat from Stardust - did you ever see Stardust?"

"Actually, I did," the Barista says. "Loved it! Absolutely loved it."

Verble says, "That's right - that was one of those movies that someone tells you to watch and you think 'Ah I've got nothing to do on a Sunday afternoon but kill a few hours until sundown' and it suddenly slaps you over the head and plants itself in your top twenty favorites."

"Exactly what I thought when I saw it," says the Barista. "Didn't expect much, but it's fantastic!"

"This book will give you the same kind of feeling," Payne says, "because it has the same sweetness, kindness, decency - a little suspense, a little danger, but nothing truly malevolent. It's also set in Key West, and you can tell that the writer lives there, just based on the loving depiction of the island and the way of life there - even though it's set back at the turn of the 19th/20th centuries."

"But you say it's told from the point of view of the cat?" asks Verble incredulously.

"It works," says Payne. "It really works. Listen, it'd take you maybe an evening or two to read it. This is definitely one of those books that will leave you feeling all warm inside, like a cup of hot chocolate on a stormy evening. And who knows," he says, with an offhand wave in the Barista's direction, "maybe they'll make it into a movie, like Stardust."

"Then I can wait for it then," she says, with a wink and a smile.

Overheard at Table 4 - Ree: Klee

. . . and if you say Klee you're wrong it's pronounced CLAY - my fourth grader just told me that and I thought it was so cool that his teacher's teaching the students about Expressionism!