At night, when it’s hot, you can hear all manner of critters chirping and clicking away. It’s what makes summer, summer, and falling asleep to that noise is one of the joys of the season. When it’s cool out, like it is this morning, it’s like someone turned the volume turn on summer. Meaning fall can’t be that far away.

If you are out at a jazz club, listening to some great sounds, tweet about it and use the hashtag #jazzlives…

#jazzlives – Twitter Search.

This is a great list of travel spots for introverts. And I really oughta go out to Napa. But there are a couple of places I would add…Brussels, of course, and Paris. Those two cities are naturals at the cafe/bar/coffeehouse theme, and it’s easy to sit at Place St. Gery or along the Boul. St. Germain and people-watch.

The Introvert Blog: Ten Places Introverts Most Want to Visit.

Wealth of Nations : Kevin Rudd’s Unintentional Chinese Orgasm.

As I am helping a friend broaden her musical horizons, I discovered something…after 10 years of not listening to it, I still like drum’n'bass music…

And the learning is lifelong…

The purpose of an education is to replace an empty mind with an open one.

An intellectual is a person who has discovered something more interesting than sex.
– Aldous Huxley

(this made me laugh out loud…)

So here I am, figuratively laying on the grass, a sunny afternoon, watching the clouds slide by and summer breeze blow, and I’m trying to figure out what the hell to write. Myriad thoughts, disconnected and disjointed, float by like the clouds over my head. I heard the neighborhood kids playing and chasing each other. I hear the usual cadre of summer bugs making whatever noises they make. I wonder about things, why things are the way they are. I wonder about the future, I wonder about the past. I wonder if I’ll work from the coffee shop today. I wonder why certain songs pop in my head at certain times. I wonder…

Here’s an early-morning toast to the success of those quiet people who are vital and ever-present. To their continued success…

PULSE: Quiet strength | Blog Break.

This is more proof the guy’s an introvert…

Barack Obama’s top pet peeves – Amie Parnes – POLITICO.com.

There’s no kerfuffle as far as this corner is concerned–the woman on the right looks great to me. Not every woman can be rail-thin. Some of us man appreciate curves.

The latest look in supermodels…can it be real? – Campbell Brown – CNN.com Blogs.

Sort of…

I was at the shore yesterday (if you’re in New Jersey, you don’t go to the beach, you go to the shore), and snapped some pictures of the waves from Hurricane Bill. A sample of the power of the ocean–you could hear the waves crashing from five blocks inland. Enjoy…

Looking south, down the beach

The storm was about 500-600 miles off the coast of New Jersey

Boogie boarders waiting for the next wave

Looking north, into Asbury Park

As Ramadan approaches, here’s an idea–why not fast, or at least think about it? For a day, or an afternoon, no web, no processed food, no tv. For a little bit of time, do without. You can always pick up those things again later. But tr to see how the world is without them. Surprise yourself.

Sunlight: [Sunlight] “Celebrate! The month of fasting has come” — Ghazal 2344.

One of the quirks of the West is that we have great expectations about everything. We always think something will happen, and we’re greatly disappointed if it doesn’t. Maybe this is why meditation scares some folks. The thought of sitting still and just being is anathema to our go-go culture. Think of all the things we could accomplish if we stopped expecting, just for a while…

In meditation, don’t expect anything. Just sit back and see what happens. Treat the whole thing as an experiment. Take an active interest in the test itself, but don’t get distracted by your expectations about the results. For that matter, don’t be anxious for any result whatsoever.

– Bhante Henepola Gunaratana, “Mindfulness in Plain English“

hat tip

Yesterday was the 50th anniversary of Miles Davis’ seminal album. Run out and get it.

Why Miles Davis’ Kind of Blue is so great. – By Fred Kaplan – Slate Magazine.

I often wonder how is it that people can’t be alone in their heads. Are they that scared of the thoughts and feelings inside that they can’t face them? They need outside stimuli to keep whatever wolves inside them at bay? Or is it that the inner dialogue isn’t soothing, rich and meaningful, heartfelt?

I was thinking about this post, and what has happened to me in the past regarding love. To have someone say to you that you’re distant and you can’t love them is a dagger to the heart. But mortally wounded? Oh no.

I’m a human being, and a statement like that cuts to the quick. So how do you recover from such a potentially devastating wound? You are more than the wound. The person who tried to wound you may not, in their haste, realize that. But you do. You are a fully formed, fully vested human being, complex and nuanced. More than a stereotype, more than a shell that the world sees. You laugh, you cry, you smile, you ache, you wonder, you lust, you hide, you seek, you sit, you think, you act. You love. All human beings, in some form or function, love. For someone to say you can’t is to deny them their humanity and their dignity. To allow someone to say that you can’t makes you look like a goddamned fool.

The wound is not you. It does not define you. You do. The wound is a small part of you, but not all of you. How you respond to it defines you. Will you let the wound fester and scab over, leaving a scar, or will it be a fertile ground to plant something that will grow?

Many times I’ve pointed to nature as an example to follow. Take a redwood tree–strength that last throughout the years (and centuries), able to withstand most any storm that comes howling its way. Or a starfish–if it loses a point, it regenerates one.

Souls and hearts are harder to repair, I know. The beatings they sometimes take are horrific. But what excuse do you have when you hold a starfish or gaze up at a redwood.

You are made of the same stern, yet intangible, material that tree and that fish are. When will you wake up to that?

Now would be good.

I am more than the wound.

I read stuff like this, and I wonder–does someone edit this? Does the writer know what they’re talking about? It’s an over-simplified definition of a introvert, that ignores the true nature of who an introvert is. We are deeper and richer than being loners. Much deeper, much richer. Yeesh. I swear these types of things are automatically generated. If so, someone needs to check the program. Or scrap it.

Introvert | Stop Anxiety Stop Panic.

Another jazz legend passes. My big regret is not getting a chance to see Les Paul at the Iridium. I heard him play “How High the Moon” on the drive home…

Close your eyes and listen. Remember what I said about jazz the other day? Les Paul had a standing gig at Iridium well into his 90s. Still playing as he did in the video. The vitality of the music–no matter what age you play it–stands the test of time.

At night, in the rain…

Every so often the debate about whether jazz is dead/dying flares up, as it did on the web this weekend. The debate seems to always be the same–no young people are playing/listening, it’s becoming too high art, blah blah blah. And it always comes after a study says nobody is going/listening/watching Here’s the thing in my mind–there are so many good players out there in the clubs in big cities and small, known and unknown, that the jazz’s vitality shouldn’t be questioned. Go to Smalls, the legendary club in New York’s Greenwich Village tonight, and it will be full of people old and young swaying, toe-tapping, listening intently to folks playing as if they have something to prove.

What jazz should not do is chase numbers. There was a time, decades ago, when you could see jazz in primetime in the U.S. Hell, I remember VH1’s Sunday Brunch, three hours of jazz videos. Those days are gone, and Wynton Marsalis won’t be as popular as Lady GaGa. Popularity is the wrong game for jazz to play. Excellence is the right one. Be good, be passionate, be innovative, be vibrant.

That is how jazz will remain alive.

The forecast for today is a first this summer here–hazy, hot and humid. Highs around 95 (though in central New Jersey seeing 100 wouldn’t be a surprise.) It’s weather fit more for sitting on a porch in the shade and drinking lemonade. And it got me to thinking: what is the best weather to write in? The conditions outside shouldn’t really be an excuse. If you need to write, you need to write. But usually rain can be conducive to stretching the writing muscles. It must be something with the melancholy nature of the skies and the (seeming) inability to go anywhere. Snow could fall under that category, too. Sunny days? You’d rather be outside. An upcoming day like today? It might be too hot to write.

Might be, but not impossible.

this is my playground…so hang on to the swing…

so what if i have a very rich inner life? so i should be punished for that? why so? if anything, i should let it out more. (like here…)

what are my thoughts? my feelings? my desires? i want someone i can’t have. but i feel alive and awake, maybe because of this. i am alone, but i’m happy. here’s the thing–inside or outside of a relationship, i am whole. i know who i am. that simple fact has not and will not get lost when i’m with someone or when i’m alone. i could cure diseases, send man to mars, get the cubs to win a world series–being whole could be the best thing i can do for humanity. and the neat thing is–so can you.

sometimes i wonder if i’m deluding myself. but then i say no–where i am fits like a good pair of jeans. i actually feel younger than the calendar claims.

it feels good to be awake. (even at this late hour).

it is fantastic to be writing while miles davis’s classic “so what” is playing on the radio, and the crickets are chirping outside. the small things in life are the good things.

i’ve been writing and thinking a lot about introverts lately. this isn’t self-aggrandizing or self-serving to say, but we are an amazing group of people.

I had a friend in Brussels, who once said she was empty inside.

Maybe I’m naive, but I don’t understand that. I didn’t then and I don’t now. Your heart, your soul, your mind are firing and sending signals all the time. Words, thoughts, images, smells, ideas–hwo can you not be paying attention to them?

Or do you not want to?

Well, tough shit, you’re gonna have to. Your heart, your soul, your mind have weight and meaning. It’s time to wake up and tune in to what they are telling you.

You feed your body good, nutritious food to maintain good health. The same must go for your mind, your soul and your spirit. There are no excuses here–it must be done. But what are those foods? I have a friend who calls me a sensei, but even I don’t have a definitive answer.

Yet, anyway.

When I first heard about this, I thought–the shooter had to be a guy; and it had to be a domestic situation. I wish I wasn’t right. We men have to go be able to handle rejection better than this, and transform it into something so much more useful than this kind of tragedy.

At least four dead in fitness center shooting.

In Archie Shepp’s wonderful song, “Ballad for a Child,” there’s a line…

A tree is a work of God, that lasts only a little while

Maybe, just maybe, if we saw ourselves as works of God, we’d be a little better off in this world.

The rain falling from the sky right now is amazing. Powerful, all-encompassing, beautiful, stark. It makes me happy to sit here and watch it fall.

Here is an answer–partially–to the question I posed earlier. (Hat tip to beliefnet.com)

“‘I am breathing in and making my whole body calm and at peace. I am breathing out and making my whole body calm and at peace.’ This is how one practices.”

– The Sutra on Full Awareness of Breathing

The more I think about this quote, the more I realize that it’s simple…

As a child, I was scared of thunderstorms. It wasn’t really the lightning that bothered me, it was the rumbles of thunder that came with it.

And there I was last week, as a thunderstorm rolled through, and lasted half the night, and I wondered–why? Why had I been scared of these storms? They were no big deal to be concerned about. It’s only nature replenishing the earth.

As I write this now, the sky has darkened, and those rumbles are moving through the air. I rather enjoy, now at least, the display of nature’s power. Without fear.

How is it possible to love someone who doesn’t love me in the same way? And still be a normal, functioning adult? A miracle? I don’t know. Maybe. What I know is this. I still feel very strongly about this woman. I can literally feel her in me. I don’t have her the way I want, and oddly, I’m not distraught about it. Sad, yes, but not distraught. Why? Because I haven’t hidden where my heart lies with her. And I am proud of that. And until such time as I feel any differently, that is where I am. And it feels good. It’s a remarkable position to be in. I feel like I’m breaking rules.

I love the question this poses…