https://picasaweb.google.com/CharlieMessing/20130810THENEWHOUSE81013?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCOWIs53ZudrpLQ&feat=directlink

check this out if you wish to see my new place (not decorated or moved in yet)!

Oh my word.  Oh my goodness.  Oh my fking Jsus...I have not been blogging.  My sincerest apologies if anyone has happened to search out this site and then found I haven't been here since June.  Let us all come together and call me a jerk.  I am one.

And now it is the middle of August. I am moving into town (Burlington, VT) on September 1.  I don't know why, but I moved in here on September 1, 2005.  I got a job the same day.  I was fired from that job on August 31, three years later.  I have no idea why things happen for me on September 1st.  What the heck?  Anyway, I am so busy (first with finding, then with waiting, then with packing, then more packing, and I may have found some movers with a truck today, which is great) that I have not blogged at all.  I have wasted all my free time on Facebook.  I am resolved to visit only every other day, but somehow that decision has been stuck in committee for a month.  Hope it emerges successfully.  Meanwhile, I'll be packing and getting ready to move.  It is a wonderful move.  A lovely yet inexpensive fourth floor apartment with lake views, in a great location in Burlington.  For all you who are envious, please know that I have suffered greatly, and now I (seem to) deserve this.  Bless you all, and especially whatever is in charge.  Thanks.  I promise to do more blogging, more writing, more music, and have more friends in the real world.  It'll be great.  It's a smaller place, so I start by getting rid of half (maybe more) of my stuff, and it's about time!  I have put off such tasks for four decades.  I have a packrat gene.  But now that I don't have so much room, I must make tough decisions.  Then when I finally make them, they don't seem so tough at all!  The human mind is a vast unexplored country.  A tiny island of consciousness in a sea of sub-consciousness.  May my mental glaciers undergo no melting.  May my island stay above water forever.  And how about world peace while we're at it.  Later!  CM

sorry last post got deleted by something. Not me!

Now here's some insight into George Jones!
http://mixonline.com/mag/audio_george_jones_stopped/index.html

and I finally found how to enable comments!  Hope to hear from you.  Have nice day/night. C

Hi,
All you people who read this - why don't you become my "follower"?  This seems to be a popular thing to do with blogs, but of the 700 views my blog has gotten, where are my followers?  Even 12, like Jesus, would be nice.  Someone to follow me around...yikes.
Just kidding.  I don't want followers, I want friends.  Just keep reading the blog once in a while, that's fine.

Tracy Anderson!  Just found out about her.  (A friend mentioned her on Facebook.) Yep, she really knows how to handle that miniature body, and she speaks well.  Or is edited well - we'll never know!  But my only question about being one of her "followers" is that it costs over a thousand dollars to join her club?  And then she encourages YOU to do all the work, and exercise everyday.  I, myself, exercise at home, and could never see spending money on a gym or joining a class.  But that's just me.  I can throw myself on my living room carpet and fight gravity, and though it wins in the end, I challenge it for a while almost daily.  Yes, folks, gravity will eventually win - whether it's a sagging tattoo, getting sleepy, or dying, gravity will win.  Sigh.  But you successfully fight gravity every time you get out of bed, so keep fighting!

I hope she treasures these years, because eventually she too will get old.  If I could only get kids to realize that the world will change, their bodies will change, their teeth and gums need attention every day, and if they want to live to grow old, they better be careful on those bikes and skateboards.  And cars!  Everyday I see someone in a car do something that tells me,"That person has never been in an accident yet."  Best of luck.
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I'm not sure about new miracle foods, but that's just me.  I feel that humans should get along on what they've eaten these thousands of years...but now we're fighting pollution and mutated viruses everyday, so maybe that just doesn't work.  But I suggest you find out more before trying out anything to eat that's "new".


Half of what you eat should be fruits and vegetables.  (Quite a change from the typical American diet!)  Why not take a look at a book called "Hungry Planet".  It shows what a family eats in one week, in one photo, with the family, in about forty countries.  It will help open your eyes.  Some of this info, and some of these photos, are on the web, but the book has more.  There's another book with families from 40 countries standing outside their dwelling with everything they own, all spread out!  That one too is amazing.  And check out the week's worth of food in CHAD!
http://www.time.com/time/photogallery/0,29307,1626519_1373680,00.html

Bye!  Happy Sunday.  C

Any media is a representation (or extension) of your senses, and your reality. If Facebook becomes your main connection with people, it can supplant real friendships, yes. But sometimes the people you "know for real" can surprise you too, right? Who knows how much thought or how much of the subconscious goes into a Facebook entry? The whole thing is a format we plug our brain into - like a street you walk down without the physicality and actuality of your "self". A ghost street, populated by the shades of solid, trustworthy, charming folk, and also by selfish and ill-mannered jackasses whose day is made if they can waste your time.

The Doors - RAY MANZAREK - RIP

       I’ve always been glad I saw the Doors.  At first I hated their records, but some song finally got to me – Soul Kitchen, I think.  Anyway.  I saw them three or four times.  Once in SF, at Winterland, and three times at the Fillmore East.  And later it turned out their first album was their best, really. 

       When Rolling Stone put out its One Hundred Greatest Albums issue, (kind of a countdown, with a page on many of them), The Doors’ first album came in at #25.  Of all the winners, Manzarek was the only one who called the Editor, Jann Wenner, to complain.  He said, “You found 24 albums that were better than ours???”

        Manzarek – neat as a pin, right on the money, camel-hump keyboard bass, cheesy organ incredibly loud, he was pretty cool.  None of the records or films capture the dynamism of his playing – it’s compressed for the recordings.  When his hand came down it was thunderously loud, and when he lifted his hand there was silence (maybe a faint echo).  Think “Alabama Song”.  Big difference…

        He was always the one to start talking about astrology and the universe and mysticism…and his solo stuff was awful.  But he was solid – fought Oliver Stone about the movie, did not approve of it, wanted it to be about the four of them instead of a total “Jimbo” tangent.  He said that half the time Jim was nothing like that.  Sort of two personalities.  He hated Stone, who wouldn’t budge on anything.  Val Kilmer did a good singing job though – they used his voice, and in the studio, the real Doors couldn’t tell which was Jim and which was Val.  He learned 40 songs, and they used 15.

       There was a show at the Fillmore East where Manzarek lectured the audience for quite a while - told everyone the advantages of dressing neatly, getting jobs, having a place to live (someone told me he spoke for 45 minutes, but that could be exaggeration). He was wrapping it up when he said, "People are all really good deep down inside."  Morrison, after just wandering around the stage and listening, stepped up to his mike and said, "Not me!"

Hello, here is yet another story.  Hope you enjoy it.  I blog later.  Is it a verb?  Well, I'll journal later.  CM

THE WEST PARK MEDICAL CENTER AND I

10/31/84, 6/10/85, 2/25/86         AND NOW 1/29/13

            I had never had insurance in my life; I was 38, and it was 1984 in New York City.  I worked at a health-food store in the East Village, and through the boss’s father, we were offered a Blue Cross-Blue Shield Health Plan, under the auspices of B’nai Brith.  His father had connections, it was said.  Quarterly payments for  each of the workers would be $250, of which management paid half.  This included the fee for joining B’nai Brith, and entitled us to certain coverages.  Some of us decided to try out the Plan, said to be a great deal.

            The year before, I had injured my feet, and they still bothered me.  More recently, I had torn a tendon in my knee, which kept me on my back for six weeks.  I had been shopping around the local hospitals for a knee procedure, once I’d been able to return to work.  I was likely to need an arthogram and an arthoscopy.  The arthogram involved injecting dye into the tendons so they’d show up in an x-ray.  The arthoscope was a long metal needle with a camera at the tip, which let the doctors see inside my knee.  Whoa.  I wasn’t truly looking forward to these two procedures, because the arthogram alone would cost $250, and since under the Plan I could get complete coverage for both of them, I was in.  We were joining B’nai Brith and the West Park Medical Center.

            The Center was up at 79^th Street and Central Park West, right by the Museum of Natural History.  I made my first appointment right away, and a few weeks later was stepping out of the subway to cross the street and enter the bright, modern offices of the West Park Medical Center.  Its corridors were grand and tasteful, and the air resonated with efficiency.  Three young receptionists greeted me, and gave me some forms to fill out in the waiting room.  I could only assume that sometimes it was much busier.  It was pretty big for doctor’s offices.

            I was then interviewed by a woman named Dr. English.  Her smile was cool with science.  She was tall, imposing, authoritative and calm as a pond.  She invited me into her office and sat behind her desk with folded hands, as she listened to my tale.  She said the first step was to get the reports and x-rays forwarded from my previous hospital, the Hospital for Joint Diseases, on 2^nd Avenue and 17^th Street.  She said I’d be seeing an orthopedic surgeon on the East Side.  She’d make an appointment for me when she received the records, and would call me the following week.

            The call did not come, and the week after that I called to find that the reports were in, but not the x-rays.  I was asked to come in and sign a release form, so they could send the reports to the orthopedic surgeon.  I wondered why they hadn’t had them sent where they were needed, but agreed to their insistence that I come up and sign the form.  They made an appointment for me, saying I had to sign by Wednesday.

            Wednesday came, and I hadn’t been up there yet, and it was pouring rain, so I called again to ask if there wasn’t some way I could avoid a 2 hour trip in the rain.  The phone person said they’d already forwarded the records, and that I did not have to sign anything.  I was glad I’d called.

            That month, I saw the orthopedic surgeon she’d recommended, and he thought my knee was doing pretty well.  I didn’t need an arthogram yet – I should wait and see if it improved.

            So far so good.  I was satisfied, glad I was covered even though I didn’t need any further help at the time.

            Then I came in for my Physical.  I hadn’t had one in years, so at my first appointment I’d signed up for a complete physical examination.  There had been a three month waiting list.  When my turn came, I went up and there once again was Dr. English.  I was starting to wonder how much of a staff they had.

            In the waiting room, I filled out a 5 page form, answering many questions about my medical history and my present state.  One part of the form listed about 50 common complaints, to be checked off when relevant.  Some were quite unclear, others very direct.  I had been wondering if anything was wrong with me, and checked off 15 or 20 of them.  These were all sorts of observations I’d made about my physical and mental condition.  I wanted them all checked out, now that I had the chance to ask a doctor about them.

            Dr. English took my form and looked at it a minute as she stood in the doorway, then invited me into her office.  She offered me a chair, and sat behind her desk, and folded her hands.  She said, “You know, all these things are just part of being alive.”  She leaned back and looked at me.  Then she got up, to give me my physical examination.

            She didn’t tap and prod me in odd spots, as other doctors had done when I got a physical.  And very notably, the most memorable moment in any of my physicals (consisting of the doctor pushing one ball back up into your body and asking you to cough) didn’t happen.  She had me take my shirt off, but that was it.  I got the impression she was not being thorough – that she was sort of faking.

            She declared me very healthy, and I left wondering if she was trying to fool me, or fool with me.   She made an appointment for me to have my feet x-rayed at the clinic a week later.  I came in, got x-rayed, and the nurse said she’d call when the results arrived.  The following Monday, Dr. English called to say, about the x-rays, “I don’t see anything very interesting.”  She said that if I liked, she would send them on to the orthopedic surgeon.  I said I’d like that.

            Around that time, the second quarterly payment was due.  I was quite disillusioned with the Medical Center, and told the boss I was not continuing.  I told him of my concerns.  He shrugged.  I didn’t blame him – his Dad had vouched for the place, and the plan.

            Soon after, I got a call from a Blue Cross agent who told me their rates had gone up, effective retroactively for 2 months.  I owed them another $14 for the period now elapsed.  I said I’d sent it right off.  But, I didn’t.

            She called the following week, to say that if I didn’t send the $14 in 2 days, they’d have to charge me a la carte, so to speak, for all the services I’d received so far.  And I’d also owe the $14.

            I told her I’d do it, just to make her happy.  I said it was right in line with their process so far.  It appeared that all they were interested in was the money, and they seemingly hoped to give as little service as possible for that money.

            She started to let me have it, as she replied, “Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Messing!” 

            I said, “Sure,” and as she started to whale into me, I hung up.

I must immediately discover how to get rid of all this white!  Every time I come here I see this, it's like anti-graffiti.  I should see something - images, colors, whatever, and I can't figure it out yet!  Is it my mental block or what?  Will I figure it out?  Will our hero triumph?  Will little Nell pay the rent...yes, of course she will.  No sooner do I grow nonchalant when the font shrinks by 75%.  Cannot fathom what I hit.  Tried three times, got it back like this.  Oh my gollies, children, we have a real winner here.  You must go to Youtube and listen to the great Bo Diddley sing "Diddy Wah Diddy", backed by The Moonglows, of all groups (both on Chess & Checker, so not a leap of imagination).

How was your day?  There is plenty of room for comments, but no one has left one.  I'm yelling into a wind, I think.  How many blogs are there?  Ten million?  Let's see...is there something I could say to generate a lot of comments?  What would that be?  Sex?  Free Money?  I hope they don't pick the free money because, senior that I am, I have less of that.

I think a good place to start is to make it look really nice.  Not ostentatious, but cute.  

Here - check out Tom Gray and Charles Wolff of The Brains, backed by the Swimming Pool Qs in good old Atlanta in 2007, when CW was still with us.  Inspirational, at least for me.  Tom wrote and here once again sings "Money Changes Everything".  CW the drummer was great too.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Z5PkpVAjEM

Good night.

Okay, I'm starting to get the idea here - must have new entry, for one thing.  Ahem.  It's Friday, and tonight was the First Friday Art Walk, and I was there.  I mostly hung around with my friends who have a studio there, and happen to be magnificent artists, all three of them.  The reception was for Anne-Marie Littenberg, and her works were highly magnified images involving sewing materials and typewriters.  They were printed on metal, with a process I've never heard of.  It's great.  Matte or glossy, no problem.  It was held in the studio of John Brickels, creator of earthquake-struck buildings and machines of clay.  His mate Wendy James was there, and her impressionistic cityscapes and alleys were resplendent.  Yep, all three were really outstanding, all getting better and better.  Ben, Anne-Marie's husband, was playing guitar and Andrew Albright was on bass.  They call the duo "Live Jazz".  So it was a lovely party, though I did not partake of the twenty pounds of M&Ms offered.  I was still North of dinner.  Okay, that's what you get when you are obliged to write so often, and now it's late but dutifully I have written this.  Pleasant dreams.  C

http://www.wtfjapanseriously.com/

Well, you can ignore the post after this one...still trying to make the blog look better.  It is very mysterious.  Perhaps other people can intuit this more quickly.  Screw it, got things to do - but I sure will post a story tomorrow!

Well, I got rid of some things.  Can't find how to make the background blue under the white logo round cornered square.  Someday I will.  Anyway, read it and chuckle, and tomorrow another story.  Busy!