New York's all right...if you like saxophones

New York was incredible! Great fun was had. We did many things and packed quite a lot into not very many days.

I didn't get a hold of fellow blogger Phoenix while out there and hope he'll forgive the snafu. But Josh, Eileen and I did manage to hit restaurants, bars, museums and even a play. We had evil spirits chased away by dragons in Chinatown, checked out Manhattan Portage bags in Soho, and threw snowballs in Harlem.

There's much to tell, but I've been tired and not really into the idea of writing much. So, I'll leave you with the sounds of a wee group o' guys singing on the steps of a building in Soho.



Maybe some coffee will get me going later and I'll relate all the fun that was had.

Commence countdown.

We've got New York City in five...four...three...

The countdown to a long weekend of fun in NYC has begun.

This Friday, I get to hop a plane to the Big Apple to see my friend Josh. His is the story of a nice midwestern boy jumping into the whiz-bang excitement of Gotham. Armed with nothing but optimism and a middle-of-America sense of goodness, Josh has taken on the urban monster and subdued it.

Eileen will be there too. She's flying in from the 'Nati. She's already been lording the fact that she'll be getting there first over me. Just remember the tortoise and the hare, Eileen. It's not who starts out first from the starting blocks that matters - it's who gets the most hookers by the end of the weekend. I'm just sayin'...

Who knows what will unfold. It may be a whir of museums, shopping and fabulous shows. Or maybe we'll just smoke some pot, play video games, and hang out in seedy bars. Not that any of us would ever inhale...much. But, if ever there was a place to explore our Bukowskiness, New York would be that place.

(Brief disclamer...the use of illicit drugs or the overuse of alcohol is not recommended by Cheeseismoldymilk or the dude who scrawls things to post on it. Drugs are bad and alcohol consumption is only safe in moderation. Remember, when in doubt...'just say no'. We now return you to this blog's regularly scheduled blah, blah, blahage.)

On the oh-my-god-I-had-no-idea-that-was-this-weekend front...the New York Comicon is this weekend too. It may be hard to not try and skip out to see that for a few hours. The best the world of sequential art has to offer right there at my fingertips. Why not just dangle a Krispy Kreme doughnut in front of face all weekend?

I would love to hit up a Buddhist temple of some sort too. Or, better yet, spend an hour with Robert Thurman. He's the head of the Tibet House, teaches Buddhism at Columbia, is friends with the Dalai Lama, and - this one tripped me out - the father of Uma Thurman. I suppose I could hang with Richard Gere for an hour instead, but it probably wouldn't be as fun.

I'm also sort of hoping to run into Natalie Portman, Marisa Tomei, or Sophia Coppola on the streets while I'm the city. Anyway, I've got some laundry to do between now and then. It wouldn't do to be wearing dirty underwear...just in case. What? It could happen.

Anyway, that's all I've got for you.

Resuming countdown...two...one...

That breeze might just be someone's compassion

Walking through the rugged countryside of Tibet, you would likely see long strings of tattered pieces of cloth hanging here, there and seemingly everywhere. The wind blowing down through a valley would gently rustle or fiercely flap them. And with every movement, the prayers they represent would rise up and flow to all edges of the world.

These prayer flags are strung from trees, buildings and bridges. They adorn stupas and protect travellers in dangerous areas. Everyone, from the most humble peasant to the wealthiest merchant, places prayer flags and understands their meaning.

They raise prayers to the Buddhas and the deities - not to be confused with our western concepts of gods and divine beings - like the ever popular Tara. Within Buddhism - and Tibetan Buddhism in particular - there are many deities.

Tara, the protector, is one of them. She has many forms, the two most common and popular being the White Tara and the Green Tara. She is called upon for aid and protection and also to grant wisdom. She is known for her swift response and compassionate strength.

It would be easy to assume that Tibetan Buddhists consider her a goddess - a part of a vast pantheon of many gods and goddesses much like the Greeks and Romans were known to worship - but that would be a wrong view of Buddhist belief. On the one hand, Tara is revered as a deity who has great powers for good. The tricky part is that she is also considered to be simply a female manifestation of the Buddha of Compassion, who is in turn considered a deity and also simply a manifestation of the Buddha nature inherent in everyone and everything.

In deity practice, the practitioner may visualize the deity before them to begin with, and later visualize becoming like the deity, and finally becoming the deity. That is to say, they become Tara - or whatever deity they are contemplating.

For a Tibetan Buddhist, this makes perfect sense. For a westerner - not so much.

What the westerner is likely to not grasp is that the manifestation of the deity is really a manifestation of one's self - a part of one's nature - and by visualizing or becoming the deity, the practitioner is cultivating the qualities of the deity within themselves. They are not becoming a god, or godlike, in the western sense, but are manifesting complete compassion, or understanding, or wisdom by first imagining possessing those qualities, then cultivating them and finally realizing that they were always there, but obscured by wrong views and misconceptions.

Despite the vast array of deities to be found in Tibetan Buddhism, it is not a multi-theistic religion at all. In fact, it is a non-theistic belief system.

The Greeks, for example, followed multi-theism. They had multiple gods and goddesses with supernatural powers. Some gods had more powers than others, but they all were separate from mortals and lived above them, wielding their powers over them.

Judaism brought out the idea of monotheism - although it wasn't the first religion to do so. A single god that was responsible for all the universe - it's creation, it's functioning and all within it. This god was all knowing and all powerful.

Buddhism has no such god. The historical Buddha was a mortal - a person - who was an historical prince. He gave up his riches to seek spiritual fulfillment. Along the way, he tried all the spiritual and religious avenues available to him and was never fully happy with any of them. Finally, he sat down, faced his own demons and came to the some realizations about the reality of the world. In short, he became fully enlightened. He didn't become a god, he became fully enlightened and in doing so took on - or manifested - qualities that could be considered godlike. Neither he nor his followers ever made claims of divinity - just awakening.

Anyway, that's all neither here nor there but rather a background for the whole prayer flag thing.

See, although the prayers upon the flags may be addressed to a particular deity like Tara, they are really more intentions and goodwill being sent out to all the universe. The intention of creating and spreading compassion is woven into the fibers of each flag and written on it's face in the form of a prayer or mantra. These flags are hung with the intention of benefiting all mankind and when the wind blows across them it carries that compassion across the land.

So, the same wind that is blowing down the valley in Tibet may carry those prayers across the land, to the ocean and over it and the next land. And those prayers might be on the breeze that gently tossles your hair as you walk from your car to the grocery store. Maybe the breeze you feel is carrying my prayers for you, or the prayers and compassion of a complete stranger.

Anyway, it's something to think about. And it's worth stopping to think about what thoughts, prayers and intentions you are sending out and who's hair they might be tossling in a parking lot, or in a high mountain valley.

Thanks for the lessons Dad

There are a lot of lessons to learn in life. How to tie your shoes, zip up your coat, and look both ways before crossing the street – the things your parents teach you.

My father and mother were there by my side, holding my hand as I learned these things. They patiently waited while I dawdled behind, stopping to inspect every rock, or pebble, or leaf along the way. They ran alongside as I wobbled my bike forward for the first time without training wheels, more proud than I as I rode forward, swaying back and forth.

They taught me to share my toys, eat my vegetables and say ‘excuse me’ if I burped. From them I learned to try hard at school, be nice to other kids and behave in the classroom.

Great lessons all.

There are also things you learn from books. My mom and dad were both there to show me places on the globe, help me with my math, and scold me when I didn’t study hard enough. My parents worked hard to make sure that a good education was available and that I learned as much as possible from books and school.

These too were great, and I learned a lot from the books my parents made available.

But there are some things that can’t be taught at all. You can only learn them by seeing someone else doing them. And when it comes to these lessons, I had the greatest example of all in my father.

We never really sat down and talked about how to be good man – a good person – but his example taught me everything I’ll ever need to know.

I learned that if you marry, you work hard to provide a good life for your wife. And when you have children, you work hard to provide for them. My father did these things. He did them and never once complained.

When my brother and I were in school, he not only worked hard at his job, but also became involved in our lives. He was there for track meets, choir and band concerts, and everything we ever did. He ran for and joined the local school board because he knew his talents could be put to use there to ensure that the education that all the kids in our town received would be the best it could be. Meanwhile, my mother joined the PTA and helped at school too.

Uninvolved parents? I didn’t even know there was such a thing. My father was always so quietly involved that I assumed that’s how all parents were. It wasn’t until much later in life that I realized how lucky I was to have a father like mine.

When we moved to California, I watched my father leave for work early in the morning and arrive back in the evening. I never gave much thought to the hours he spent on the Los Angeles freeways each morning and night – commuting so far because he wanted us to live in a nice neighborhood with safe schools and good neighbors. Never once did I hear him complain – although I now know how tired he must have been. So, although he never told me this was something a man did because he loved his family, I know now that it is.

His example taught me.

I also learned that a man doesn’t need to make noise to be a man. I can’t remember a time that I heard my father’s voice raised in anger and I know I never heard him utter a coarse word in his long life. He was a quiet man, content to sit back in and let others be the center of attention. He wasn’t shy, just a man who quietly did what he knew was right.

I learned that a man is kind and generous. My dad did everything for his family. He had his pleasures – his computer was one of them – but, he would have gladly given it up if any of us ever needed anything. Both he and my mother would always do without so that even the smallest of desires my brother and I had were fulfilled. And later, I saw the simple joy of seeing his grandchildren running through the house light up his eyes like no pile of gold ever would.

I learned that loving kindness doesn’t make someone less a man, but more a man, as I watched my father stroke the head of the dog or pet a purring cat. We always had animals in the house – I don’t think my father would have had it any other way. It was just part of his caring nature.

I learned that you cherish your wife by watching my father’s constant love for my mother – a love that rose above any petty squabbles and day-to-day hardships. Through 42 years of marriage and two children, I never saw it waver. Their love rode out every storm and was something worthy of emulating and striving for.

Through countless days at County Stadium watching the Brewers play ball, handfuls of parent teacher conferences, and the roller coaster of growing up, my father was always there. He was there to see me graduate and he was there for my first license. He was there when I lost a job and he was there when I got a new one. Bounced about by life? – my father was a solid point, a supportive place. Happy or sad times, he was always there - even if far away.

And by just being there, he taught me more than I could have ever learned alone.

But mostly, I learned that if I ever grow to become half the man my father was, I would be a great man indeed. And, even though he’s gone from my day to day life, he’s still with me – a constant teacher, a great father.

Downloadtastic

I'm blaming it on Eileen - mostly because it's her fault and partly because it's just fun to say 'I'm blaming it on Eileen.' The other day, she posted about emusic's awesome offer of 100 free downloads if you just sign up for their monthly service. You can even cancel anytime - including before you actually even have to pay anything. If you find yourself needing 100 free downloads, you can go here for their offer.

So far my downloads have fed this weird hip-hop obsession I've been having lately. I downloaded a new album produced by Hi-Tek - Hi-Teknology, Vol. 2. It's got a crazy, awesome mix of talent on it. There's Ghostface Killah and Raekwon, Talib Kweli, Dion, Judakiss and a lot more. And, as Eileen so astutely noted when I told her about it, Hi-Tek hails from the 'Nati. The jury's still out on how much I like this album, but I think I dig it. It will take a couple more listens to be sure though.

Downloaded a Talib Kweli album too - Right About Now. It's pretty good too. Talib Kweli is sort of the thinkin' man's flow artist. He pops out some great poetry for sure, but has never really hit it big on the hip-hop charts. It's his rhymes that set him apart if you ask me. People in the business love him though. All the big names point to him as a great artist who deserves more recognition.

Haven't had much time to listen to this one yet, but what I've heard I like a lot. I'm finding that I'm becoming a big fan of Kweli. Everyone who likes them some hip-hop gone likes them some Kweli.

Also picked up 2K6: The Tracks. It's an RJD2 offering. I owe Josh for the RJD2 intro. There are a lot of talented artists on this one too. It's an okay album, but maybe not top of the list. It might grow on me...if this hip-hop kick keeps up.

Downloaded Camera Obscura and TV On The Radio too. Not so much excited by Camera Obscura, but it could just be my mood. Haven't listened to TVOTR yet, but Gregg tells me they're awesome. He's been ready to call them the next big thing since he heard them a while back. I guess a lot of people have been saying that, but I totally missed out on them. This will be my attempt to get on the bandwagon.

And what download frenzy would be complete without some classical music? I choose some Bach for my listening pleasure. Oddly, I've never owned any Bach. Weird. Well, that's taken care of now. I'm hoping it's some good versions. That's the worst thing about classical music. You never really know if you're going to like the interpretation until you buy it and listen to it. I've had some pretty annoying disappointments over the years - Nigel Kennedy, I'm talking about you and your ridiculously pompous work.

I still have 22 tracks to download, so I'm open to suggestions. Let me know if there's something I need to get.

Francoise Hardy - the model of French cool

When I was growing up, there was still a bit of lingering French cool. Traces of 60s France lingered on in movie soundtracks and sort of off on the edges of my conciousness. I didn't know it at the time, but everything I thought of as French cool was to be found in Francoise Hardy.



Hardy was in the top ranks of French Ye-Ye in the mid sixties. Ye-Ye was pretty much a movement of hip, bubblegum, girl singers that swept French pop in the sixties. Their music was pretty much, pure, un-cut pop shot directly into the veins. Ye-Ye was probably the closest thing to mainlining pop music that ever existed - although some might argue that Swedish pop is perenially pretty gooey and Japanese schoolgirl pop is over-the-top perky too.

Amid this, stood Francoise Hardy - part of it, but apart from it. Hardy was the smoking brunette in the sea of blonde and her long, slim, model look set a new standard for French beauty. And, yeah, her voice is darn sexy too.



For a sweet look at Hardy then and now, watch this last one - a video featuring Hardy and Jacques Dutronc. It's beautiful portrait of youth and maturity, and maybe just a good example of how to age gracefully.

New Year

The New Year always offers a sense of new hope for the upcoming year. It's a bit like a candle flame actually - a shining beacon of warmth in the dark night and, yet, so very easy to put out. May the candlelight of your hope be protected from the wind and may it guide you forward to a bright new year.

Cheers.

Can you write a little louder, my hearing isn't that great

Ever audiobook? You know, listen to a recording of a book being read.

I was never a big fan, but my iPod - Boris the Black - has helped make a fan of me. Boris likes the idea of just playing for long periods of time without me messing about with him to pick different stuff.

Anyway, Boris and I have been on a bit of an audiobook spree of late. We've been through Robert Ludlum's, The Ambler Warning, and Neal Stephenson's, Snow Crash, of late. The Ludlum book would have been better to read - it would have taken me a third of the time - but it was entertaining.

Snow Crash, on the other hand, was great. Snow Crash is a great book to start with. My friend Josh gave it to me to read a long time ago and it took me forever to get past the first chapter. Once I did, it was amazing. Hearing it read reminded me how truly groundbreaking some of the ideas in it were for when it was written. He really nailed a lot of our current technology and computer trends. If you haven't read it, you can't really be considered a cybergeek and we all know how cool it is to be a cybergeek.

I've also been listening to Immersion German off and on. It's just German conversations done at normal speed and then slower and then normal again. The only English is a brief introduction at the start of each one to set the scene - basically, 'Gunter and Heidi are at home. Gunter is watching the end of a soccer match and they are trying to decide what kind of food they're in the mood for and what restaurant to go to...' Of course, I can't understand much of it, but that's sort of the point. You just listen to it over and over and it begins to make sense. A bit like learning language as a kid.

Anyway, the other day I downloaded another cool book, The Areas of My Expertise. It's free at Audible.com right now and is pretty darn funny - in an offbeat sort of way. It's by John Hodgman. You probably know him as PC in the 'get a Mac' commercials.

I got the link from my good buddy Neil Gaiman who said, "You need this free audiobook. If you think you don't, you are wrong. Trust me. It's funny. Also, it's free."

Okay, that's sort of a lie. I don't even know Neil Gaiman - I've only been to his website. He is responsible for the bold statement though and he's right about the audiobook. You can follow this Boing Boing link to the audiobook on iTunes.

Anyway, the audiobooks have been keeping me entertained during the long hours of work tedium and boy does that make me happy. And, it's keeping Boris happy too which is always a bonus. But, I do have the hankering to sit down and do some reading. I'll never get tired of flipping through real pages in the wee hours of the morning and not getting enough sleep because the book was just too good to put down.

Budget me this Batman...

One thing about the information super highway is - well - there's a lot of information out there. Some of it is amusing. Some of it is deep and though provoking. Some of it's both.

I found one that's sort of both here. Frankly, it would be more amusing if it didn't have such a real impact on most Americans (those who aren't blessed with multi-million dollar fortunes that is). It's a look at how the Democrats and Republicans stack up on the economy, size of government, expenses of said government.

Keep in mind while you're trolling through this that it is dealing with the modern era, but doesn't include the current Bush administration's fine stewardship. The numbers run from Kennedy through Clinton.

By the way, the numbers were originally compiled on this guy's blog, which looks like it's full of some interesting thoughts - or spotlighting of some interesting facts and tidbits, at least.

Fun with 3D

Been playing with a 3D program a bit. It's fun to mess about with, but it's a resource hog. To really have some 3D fun you need to have a blistering quick machine with tons of memory. Until that happens, I'm contenting myself with sticking to making some still pictures.

Question this answer

Do you want answers or do you want questions? The answer to this will say a lot about you. All of us, at one time or another, will want one or the other but most of the time will seek one more than the other.

Take the internets and some of the things found in its tubes - things like wikipedia.

A while back, wikipedia came under attack by some who said that it was full of errors and that a system that depended on a group of people to write collectively of about such a huge range of subjects could never be trusted. Most of the argument was centered on the biography of an individual who was erroneously dipicted in a harsh light. Later, several studies were conducted and it was found that wikipedia was actually more factually correct than a certain, highly-respected encyclopedia.

The argument continues, but I think that ultimately it comes down to a difference between those who wish to have only answers and those who wish to face questions.

Stepping back a bit, I should explain that this whole thing started with a few minutes on Dbackdad's blogsite. He's got a little 'what I'm reading now' section and I followed the link of one of the books, Godel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid to a wiki on the book. From there I clicked over to a wiki on Zeno's paradoxes. They're a series of paradoxes proposed by Zeno that mathmaticians and physicists believed were resolved, but it turns out that on a quantum level it is impossible to resolve them.

My favorite is Zeno's arrow paradox.

"In the arrow paradox, we imagine an arrow in flight. At every moment in time, the arrow is located at a specific position. If the moment is just a single instant, then the arrow does not have time to move and is at rest during that instant. Now, during the following instants, it then must also be at rest for the same reason. The arrow is always at rest and cannot move: motion is impossible.

Whereas the first two paradoxes presented divide space, this paradox starts by dividing time — and not into segments, but into points. It is also known as the fletcher's paradox."

My second favorite is the dichotomy paradox.

"Suppose Homer wants to catch a stationary bus. Before he can get there, he must get halfway there. Before he can get halfway there, he must get a quarter of the way there. Before traveling a quarter, he must travel one-eighth; before an eighth, one-sixteenth; and so on.

This description requires one to complete an infinite number of steps, which Zeno maintains is an impossibility. This sequence also presents a second problem in that it contains no first distance to run, for any possible first distance could be divided in half, and hence would not be first after all. Hence, the trip cannot even begin. The paradoxical conclusion then would be that travel over any finite distance can neither be completed nor begun, and so all motion must be an illusion."

Zeno - it turns out - is fun to ponder. Fun, if you like to find questions and ask them. Not so much fun if you like answers. How can you - if you like answers - like something that says that there might not be an answer?

It's probably not hard to see that I fall into the seeking questions camp.

Anyway, it occured to me that there is something at work that runs through our society itself. It is these two different world views. Those who crave answers and those who crave questions.

To simplify it, some people want - in fact need - to have the world boiled down to simple answers. Uncertainty creates tension and anxiety in these people. Uncertainty is to be avoided, explanations need to be found, and order imposed.

On the other hand, are those who need to question. Uncertainty is part of life for these people and often the idea of arbitrarily imposed order runs against their nature. For them, paradox is understandable because it is not understandable. Order isn't bad in itself, but applying it simply for it's own sake is.

I think this root difference is the basis for our current culture clash, particularly as it being played out in the religious arena. It's nothing new. Take the early Jews who were divided into several groups with different worldviews - the Pharisees, Sadducees and Essenes for example. Without going into much detail, it could be argued that these three groups provide excellent examples of answer people and question people - the Pharisees and Sadducees being the answer folks and the Essenes being the question people.

And to generalize a bit more, the Pharisees and Sadducees (who were extremely order and rule concious) are the rough equivalant of today's Evangelical right. For these people, specific rules are more important than general concepts. The contemporary counterpart to the Essenes would be those Christians who believe that the general concepts of Christ's teachings are more important than specific rules.

When the statement is made that Christianity is under attack today is made, it is really more that the worldview of the modern Pharisees is what is being attacked. Presenting a paradox to a Pharisee is the same thing as attacking their worldview.

The same scenario can be seen on the political stage as well.

The Bush administration can easilly be seen as answer people - Pharisees. They have proposed rules or maxims and those rules are more important than generalities. For these answer people, to even question the rules is to question their worldview. Their rules must be defended because their worldview depends upon it. In fact, defending these rules is part of their worldview and has become an ingrained principle.

They have counterparts on the other side of the political spectrum too. There are those with politically liberal viewpoints that will defend their rules just as staunchly.

A fun aside, at this point, would be to ponder a little paradox I like to call Shawn's Hippy Uniform Paradox which asks:

"If wearing a uniform makes one part of the establishment, then does the fact that hippies dress alike make them part of the establishment?"

More on this paradox on a different day.

In the mean time, ponder - if you will - whether you fit into the question or answer camp. I believe that most people fall somewhere in between and sometimes lean one way or the other, perhaps depending on the circumstances or the facet of life being considered. I also believe that we all tend to lean one way or the other to varying degrees.

As I've said, I know I tend to lean pretty far towards the question camp. Paradoxes interest me and I believe that life itself is a paradox of sorts. I seek answers, of course, but to me it's the asking of the questions that's important.

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It's weird how the idea of Big Brother watching was not that long ago a scarey thought and is now a reality that no one seems to even be aware of.

Fun with Photoshop

Okay, what's the greatest computer program ever? It's a tough question, but on a personal level I think Photoshop is pretty much tops.

It's not just fun to play with, but it's extremely powerful too.

I'm always amazed at what can be done with just a few clicks. It would be hard for me to even imagine not having Photoshop on my computer. There's always The Gimp for those who can't spring for the big dollar Photoshop. The Gimp is open source software, so it's free to download and use. The Gimp is nearly as potent as Photoshop is, but it's a slightly different interface and I've been using Photoshop for a lot of years. So, for me it's Photoshop.

Anyway, it's fun to play around with cool programs.

Here and now

Warming but not warm sunshine, faded blue sky, pale patches of clouds like bleach stains on well-worn Levis, a brown, strong coffee and Ottmar Liebert's guitar coming from the speakers of my computer.

Leafless trees ouside my window stand as quiet obseververs of the world, only the barest hint of a breeze moving them.

Snow is piled up by the roadsides. A newly painted garbage truck rolls through the neighborhood gathering the piles and bins of recyclables.

This is my morning.

Forty minutes - forty miles - away my Dad is lying in a bed under the same old-Levis sky. The beeps of the monitors sounding nothing at all like flamenco guitars, evoking no thoughts of Spain and summertime.

While I sip my coffee and savor the flavor, he may be coming out of a slumber and hoping that today they will remove the plastic tube from his throat and he might be able to speak. Worrying around his bed, my Mother has no thoughts beyond the hope that her husband will soon be coming home.

I'm torn between talking about my Father and talking about the many times that Liebert's 'Nouveau Flamenco' has played the part of background soundtrack in my life.

Maybe both, or maybe they're the same thing - even though they're not at all the same.

I first remember hearing Ottmar Liebert at a little restaurant and bar a couple of friends ran in Bend, Oregon, called Monet's Garden. Gene and Jane spent countless hours remodelling and painting before they were ever ready to open the doors. It was their dream to serve nice, light fare, good wines and have live music on weekends. My Dad was helping them as a consultant - setting up their books and setting up business accounts.

Gene was the music fan - or fanatic. He loved most music, but saved a special place for reggae. Nice enough, but Gene was the prototype for the credit card hippy - a guy who wore the trappings of the Woodstock generation but put his bar tab on a gold card instead of paying with change dug from the seats of a ratty VW bus.

Jane was different. She was an artist. Beautiful, tall, blonde - a girl who you could either imagine twirly barefoot in a field or floating into the sitting room to welcome you to the family manor house.

While Dad coached Gene as best he could, Mom became friends with Jane helping her with the menus, decoration and hanging Jane's paintings. I was, of course, dragged in to help pound some nails and frame some of Jane's stuff. That's when I first heard Liebert - helping out at Monet's Garden.

Then, when the place finally opened, Jane would often play Liebert's music in the afternoons. I would stop in and have a wine with her and we would listen to the music and fold napkins for the dinner rush.

It was nice.

I enjoyed just being around Jane. She was one of those rare, ethereal souls that seem ill-made for the real world and belong in a novel, a poem, or a song. I think she welcomed the break from the looming clouds of a marriage doomed to fail.

Occasionally, over the years, Ottmar would come out and I would listen. It always soothed, but rarely transported me to a better place anymore. Gene and Jane were divorced and Monet's finally closed it's doors. Liebert was quiet memory tucked in the back of my mind.

Until I met Stephanie that is.

Steffi was another soul out of place when I met her. In the heat of a sunny California day at a yoga ashram in the Sierra foothills, Steffi appeared like a dream. She took shape slowly, from the edges of my sight - a warm glow that finally focused when we found our way into the same room to watch a video about the place.

We started talking, tentatively at first, like shy schoolkids. Soon though, the video was forgotten and the words tumbled out. She was stranded it turned out - or nearly stranded to be more exact. She was travelling by car with a couple who were feuding and making life miserable. All she wanted was to get back to Los Angeles, pick up her bags and go home to Germany.

Sometimes you meet people and know it will be okay. I guess this was one of those times. I knew I had to help her and she knew that she was safe with me.

She stayed at my bare place in Grass Valley. I had just moved there for a newspaper job and almost everything I owned was in storage. We bought food and wine for dinner and I snuck utensils up to the register, unwilling to let her know I didn't even have forks or spoons at home.

We spent one night and one day together - twenty four hours that changed my life for the better. She both healed and broke my heart.

Later, when I went to see her in Germany for the first time, she played Ottmar Liebert while she cleaned the vegetables we had bought at the local market. The same album I had listened to several years before. It became part of the tapestry of that trip. We listened to it a lot. Food, wine and Ottmar Liebert colored everything for two weeks in Bavaria.

Like a familiar smell that returns me to childhood or a sight that sparks a thought or memory, Nouveau Flamenco has gained the power to move me somewhere not here, not now. We all, I think, have things that do this for us. And, sometimes, we need to have them - need to be not here and not now.

Outside the pale blue sky has turned dull grey and large flakes of snow are falling and rising and floating sideways in the air.

And in these moments before the sky starts to really release its white bounty, I can't help but wonder if my Dad would like Ottmar Liebert. Back again in the here and the now, I wonder whether I'll have the chance to ask him and hope quietly that I do.

Snow day...

On days like this, it seems like a good idea to just drink some coffee. These are the kind of days that are best spent with a warm java and a good book. Reading and getting snowed in - sounds pretty good.

Sadly, I'm going to have to go out in it later this afternoon. I had a morning job, but it was thankfully moved to later in the day.

Funny thing is that a couple of days ago the temperature was up to nearly 60 degrees. It was warm and nice.

I should write down my predictions because I knew the temperature was going to plummet and it would start to snow in two days. Well, I was right about the cold and about six or eight hours off on the snow. Not bad, eh?

Anyway, it's still coming down outside. The world seems very quiet too. Not many cars out on the road, the plows aren't scraping by and the snow has been muffling most of the sound out there anyway. This is the best part of a good snowfall - the quiet that puts the world on pause for a little while.