YOU AIN'T GONNA LEARN WHAT YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW

I'm Out of Touch

 

I'm driving in my car, and listening to a new album (if you can call it that anymore) that came out this week. 

It's by Joe Walsh.   I'm listening to these lyrics as I drive across the George Washington Bridge -- and it hits home.  

Welcome to cyberspace, I'm lost in the fog 
everything's digital I'm still analog 
when something goes wrong 
I don't have a clue 
some 10-year-old smart ass has to show me what to do 
Sign on with high speed you don't have to wait 
Sit there for days and vegetate 
I access my email, read all my spam, I'm an analog man.

What's wrong with vinyl, I think it sounds great 
LPs, 45s, 78s but that's just the way I am 
I'm an analog man.

 

I wrote the below post in March of 2006 -- and its more true today than it has ever been.   See if you agree that it has lasted the six years since the day it came out of my heart, through the keyboard -- and to the digital screen.  

March 19, 2006

The Tradeoff of Advanced Technology,

The Tradeoff of Advanced Technology, vs. Content*

I have been a collector of DVD's since they came out. 
A very specific kind of DVD, NOT MOVIES -- but,...LIVE concerts DVD's. Frank Sinatra, Neil Diamond, Crosby Stills and Nash...to Jimi Hendrix, to 25 other bands--..my weakness is LIVE CONCERT DVD's.

I own literally hundreds of them. I'm a sucker for LIVE music.

When I go to a a record store, I look for rare imports of DVD's. On EBAY, I look for rare concert DVD's.

Something happened this past week, that hit me like a freight train.

I bought the most amazing DVD I have ever purchased. I've bought many lame DVD's, so I was due)

It is called "L.A.Blues", by the Rolling Stones...(I'll provide the link at the end of this post, in case you are interested.)

It's a concert from July 11, 1975 at the LA Forum.

It is a 3 camera production of the GREATEST Rock N' Roll Band, on a GREAT NIGHT, captured on film. It's 26 songs and visuals of simply amazing content. (pro-shot)

Keith, Mick and Charley, in their early 30's....with, Ron Wood, who JUST joined the band, prior to this tour.

The content is THE BEST of all my Stones DVD's I own, including all of their official releases..BY FAR. I can't stop watching it.

So, I'm on the couch, watching it last night, (volume up) and my loving wife says, "This is horrible, the picture quality is horrific, making it unwatchable, and the sound is pathetic, you like this?"

And, it hit me.

She is right, the way it was filmed in 1975 - and the fact that it is a BOOTLEG, has meant that the quality is poor, at best.

But, you know what - it has the GREATEST content I have ever witnessed on a DVD.

Does Technology own the content of the future?

Will future generations ONLY EVER get a chance to see, and witness things recorded in "High Definition" or HD quality - or some other futuristic format?

Will incredible content, NEVER GET SEEN, because it was recorded BEFORE TECHNOLOGY advances?

With IPODS....Home Theaters....and, new gadgets coming out, will anyone want to hear my AUDIENCE COPIES of bootlegs from the Grateful Dead? (Meaning, someone who recorded a DEAD show, with a microphone and was NOT plugged into the soundboard...)
Will, technology render them useless, and nothing more than garbage, to future generations, even though the content is TOPS?

Will old content NEVER GET A CHANCE, to become someone in the future's, favorite musical choice?

Those Grateful Dead Audience tapes that I own, have energy and feeling...that no SoundBoard recording, can ever capture.

This 1975 Rolling Stones DVD, with incredible footage, and mind blowing performances by the members of the Rolling Stones....will NEVER get the respect it deserves, because it is grainy, poor quality -- and a C+ in terms of audio...

But, to me it's priceless. It's worth it's weight in gold.

 

Here is the AMAZON link for the product, although I just noticed it's not for sale anymore..(read another buyers comments in the comments section of the link.) If you are interested, contact me, either in comments or whatever, and I'll provide the seller's email address) -- here is the AMAZON LINK For The Rolling Stones LA BLUES.

Content is king...no matter the quality....and that's my motto.

I've figured out that technology, with all it's advances, is still SECOND to me. I'll take grainy recordings, poor audio, and old time formats, to stay in my life - to provide a link - to HIGH QUALITY.

But, I'm afraid content may be losing out to technology.

Time for some 8 Track's Cartridges, to make a personal reappearance...

Content #1, Technology #2.

 

The Couple At The Bar

 

"I'm done with you...."  She shouted from the top of her lungs, raw emotion on display.

 

Standing at the cocktail party, I was blown away by the conversation, and the yelling taking place 10 feet away from where I was standing.  

 

It was heated, passionate, and full of energy. 

 

"I want a divorce, no more messing around -- let's finish this thing." 

 

There were angry words exchanged, and I was 10 feet away from the heat, the fire, and the raw emotion, spilling out in public for all to see. 

 

This was a cocktail party with hundreds of people in attendance, at a swankly indoor venue, where a tie and jacket must be worn.    

 

She held a martini glass, he held some kind of mixed drink. 

 

As the fighting, and raised voices continued -- the rest of the room, and the chatter began to fall silent from those watching the action take place, near the bar.  

 

Even the bartenders, and the clanking of glasses and silverwear, seemed to come to a screetching halt. 

 

It was uncomfortable. 

 

All eyes were on the couple. 

 

As they both woke up to the fact that the entire room was staring at them, they began to talk in a more civil tone, and slowly the room returned to normal. 

 

However, that exchange for some reason made a dent on me.   

 

I'm not quite sure why, but I felt frozen in time. 

 

I felt uncomfortable, FOR THEM.    

 

We walked out of the cocktail hour, and into where the reception was being held.   As luck would have it, I was seated at the same table as the couple. 

 

What would I say?   

 

Should I address the fighting, and the embarassement they just caused themselves (possibly make a joke of it) -- or ignore it as it never happened?

 

I chose to ignore it.

 

But, they did not.

 

They sat at the table, after introducing themselves -- and barely said a word to anyone else at the table.   They sat there talking, and then.....

 

They began to kiss, and kiss, and kiss.......passionate, and over the top "displays of affection were happening right at, (and nearly on) Table 3. "   

 

The people at the table were incredulous.   We were bewildered, we were in shock. Looking around it was hard not to giggle.  

 

They had gone from being uncomfortable themselves --- to making the other 8 people at the table feel out of place. 

 

I blurted out, in an attempt to break the ice -- "How did you guys go from fighting in the other room, to basically having sex at the table -- an amazing turn of the events, and I speak for the table when I ask, how does something like this happen?" 

 

She slowly turned to face me across the table, and the entire table leaned in to hear the words that she would direct to me....

 

"We do not have a perfect marriage, we fight alot, and we are both very emotional.  But, we do air out EVERYTHING -- sometimes too much, and I'm sorry if that makes you all feel uncomfortable." 

 

I did not know what to say.   Suddenly, all eyes at the table turned to me -- (how did I get this role as ringleader and inquisitor, at Table 3?) to see what my response would be. 

 

My response was instinctual, and to the point -- 

 

"I'm glad that works for you.   I do not have a perfect marriage either -- but we try something that has worked for us.  We made a deal when we got married to never go to bed mad at each other.   No matter what, we will never let our today's ruin our tomorrows.   We talk out most everything, and it works 99% of the time."  

 

From there, it seemed like the evening went from a cocktail party -- to the Oprah Winfrey show.   Everyone wanted to chime in with details about their marriage, their divorces, and their current relationship. 

 

 

"Andy, I need to move on and try a different challenge." 

 

I was crushed.   This was someone I trusted with my business.   Someone who I thought had my back for the entire life span of my dream to run a company successfully.  

 

Should I act like that woman acted at the bar, and get emotional -- and start yelling that I was hurt? 

 

Should I make scene?  

 

"I have to go, my time here has run it's course." 

 

At first it stings.   You look inward, you look to see if you could do something more, something better....

 

You can't.   You need to let go. 

 

You dont need to be like the couple at Table #3, and kiss in front of people to prove anything.  

 

You DO NEED TO BE A CHEERLEADER.  To wish those that helped build, nuture, and care for your life-long dream to build a business --  and help it become a reality -- you need to wish them the best.  Wish them well.

 

Celebrate their achievements, their commitments, and all the hard work and effort they gave.    

 

The second generation comes in and picks up the slack -- and, with new energy, new vision, and a new confidence -- helps ENERGIZE the company, its people, and its value -- so that new heights can be reached. 

 

I never want to see good people leave.  EVER.   It pains me, it still does -- but, when they do go -- I NEED THEM TO KNOW I SUPPORT THEM, AND I CHEER ON THEIR SUCCESSES.   

 

They have helped me beyond words. 

 

I may not be like the couple at the bar, that went from both sides of the emotional spectrum (from anger and resentment, to love) but -- I do have genuine appreciation for all those that have helped me along the way.   

 

Sometimes, we forget to say those simple words, "Thank You." 

 

To the couple that made that cocktail party fun and memorable, "Thank You." 

 

To all the people who have helped me along the way,  and in every way become a better person -- I say, "Thank You." 

 

Go thank somebody, genuinely. 

 

I just did. 

 

Thank you. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Louie The Bum

 

 

“Leave me alone, you kids….”

 

 

My first semester of freshman year did not start out as planned.   The teachers at my college decided that the fall of 1987 was a good time to stage a faculty strike.

 

University of Bridgeport is a college on the Long Island Sound.   It is scenic,  as it is on the water – and really a great location for a school to be located.

 

Except for one thing.

 

It is surrounded on one side by water.   One the other side it was engulfed by a large set of housing projects, some rather voluminous ghetto's -- all with a thriving and robust drug trade.    

 

In the 1980’s crack cocaine was Bridgeport’s specialty.     A buyer looking for drugs could get off of I-95, and within a block or two of the highway – find a willing seller.

 

Our college was ground zero for the crime, the shooting, and mayhem, that went along with an American city in decay – having lost it’s manufacturing base, it’s middle class, and all that was left of the South End of a dying city – and in that was the University that I attended.

 

Bridgeport.

 

Arriving at college, I was met by picket lines – angry faculty, and images like this all over campus.

 

 

 

A heck of a way to start my first year of college.

 

 

But, we made the best of it.

 

 

It afforded many of us (students) the opportunity to become fast friends.   No classes to get in the way – just a lot of parties during the day, kegs on the Marina Green, Bars (like Alberto’s) jam packed at 2pm middle of the week -- Freshman year.  

 

 

The first week was awesome.   

 

 

 

By the third week – I thought college did not have to involve learning, teachers, or classes.

 

 

Hanging on the Marina Green, there were endless blankets out on the lawn, with fraternities sponsoring keg parties.   I loved college, and what was happening to my life,  in the fall of 1987.    It was an unusually warm September – that drifted well into October.  The strike went for many weeks......

 

 

The first time I heard the voice, I was at a “War Pigs” Party on the Green, and it stayed with me.

 

 

“Leave me alone, you kids….”

 

He was shirtless, dirty, half shaven – and wore no shoes.

 

 

He was a short man, and he looked angry.

 

 

His head was down, and he grunted a lot.

 

 

He fascinated me.

 

 

I asked him his name, and he just grunted at me.    He looked at me, but he was really looking – beyond me.  We did not make eye contact.  

 

 

“What does it matter?”  He said to me, in a heavily accented, gruff voice that sounded like a million cigarettes had passed through his lungs.

 

 

“Just asking, no need to get angry..”  I shot back.

 

 

But, angry he was.   He trolled around that day – sipping beer, picking up cigarette butts, and acting every bit the homeless, shoeless old man that he was.

 

 

That was my first interaction with him.

 

 

We would affectionately call him, “LTB”.   Louie the Bum.

 

 

He told us his name was Louie.   But, it was really Gus.  (We found out from the upperclassmen)

 

 

All the kids were friendly to him, but he was rarely friendly back.   He acted like he could not be bothered, and he walked around with a big chip on his shoulder.

 

 

But, the odd thing was – he loved being AROUND the college kids.   Trolling around, listening to conversations outside of the Common area, outside of dorms.  Sitting on the row of stones outside of where the meals were served.

 

 

He hung around, and showed up almost everywhere you could imagine, on a University Campus. 

 

His accent was thick.   He slurred his words, and he most times walked around with a paper bag – and in the bag, was a bottle of some sort.

 

 

By my 3^rd year of college I moved off campus.    I lived in a 2 family house one block away from the school, and on the border of ghetto mayhem.   One block away was “ground zero” of the drug trade.    The projects and housing developments were called, “Father Panic Village” – and they inspired fright and panic, in all students of the school.  

 

 

Our house had these big wooden steps in front.   During the day, LTB (Louie The Bum) would sit on the steps of our house, and sip from his bag – and act angry, and he would grunt.

 

We would not get into heavy conversations, but he would listen to my music coming from the speakers inside.  Mostly, he grooved to the music and guitar playing of Jerry Garcia.

 

 

There was a deli around the corner from my house, with a liquor store next door.   There were tables and chairs outside.    On warm days, we would sit outside, drink beer, and eat lunch from the deli.

 

 

When we did that, I would buy Louie a bottle of gin – and he would sit 15 feet away from us, listening.   He never sat, with us.  

 

 

He would grunt.  

 

He studied what we were saying, and in his crazy mannerisms, barefoot, dirty and angry – just blurt stuff out.

 

 

“why you looking at me?”

 

 

“leave me alone……"

 

 

Truth is, I often wondered about his life, and how he ended up homeless, and miserable.

 

 

4 years after the Faculty strike, I was sitting outside the deli with some friends, one week before graduation.   It was the end of April and a glorious day.  In one week I would be leaving college, and starting, life.   

 

Louie was sitting a few feet from us grunting, talking to himself, and listening to our conversation.

 

 

He did not look good.

 

 

I said, “Hey man, everything OK?”

 

 

 

For the first time, he glanced at me and made direct eye contact, and said –

 

“Can’t Breath.”

 

 

I walked him to my car and drove him 5 blocks to the hospital nearby.  

 

 

I pulled right up to the Emegency Room – and walked him in.

 

 

The nurse yelled to him, “Gus – what happened, what did you do this time?”

 

 

In nearly perfect English – or, MUCH BETTER THAN ANYTHING I HAD EVER HEARD IN WATCHING THE 4 YEARS OF HIS CRAZY BEHAVIOR…..he muttered –

 

 

“Penny, I am having a hard time breathing.”

 

 

He looked at me.   He knew I saw his act, crumble away.  

 

 

I was amazed.   My mouth dropped. 

 

 

The nurse thanked me, and asked me if I wanted to leave. 

 

 

I said, “No way, I’m staying.”

 

 

Gus said, “Get the hell out of here kid.”  ( he went back into his gruff, crazy voice)

 

 

The nurse took great pleasure in telling me about Gus for the next hour, and his life.  Gus watched me -- as the nurse told me his story.  

 

 

Gus Kastividis (sp) was a successful owner of a major diner in New Haven, CT.   His wife and daughter both worked there – Gus was mostly the cook, while his wife and daughter ran the front of the diner.

 

 

Gus daughter died of cancer at a young age.

 

 

Shortly thereafter, Gus’s wife died.

 

 

Gus walked away from his diner, his house – and his life.  He left everything behind, just drifted away from being, who he was.  

 

 

He became depressed, homeless, and made his life hanging around young people, like me, (amongst others) at the University of Bridgeport.

 

 

But, one week before my college graduation – I got to see the REAL GUS.  

 

 

He was mad that I got to see it.  He was upset that someone got to see the old Gus, the "pre-homeless, angry, drunk Gus." 

 

 

I left that hospital that afternoon, and never spoke to, or saw Gus again.

 

But, I’ve never forgotten about him.

 

 

We all have built up defenses, mechanisms to hide who we really are.   What we are made of.   

 

 

Gus hid himself very well for many years.   He hid behind being a homeless, drunk – who needed and loved the energy of people to stay alive.

 

College Students were giving him his energy.

 

 

I’ve never been back to Bridgeport.    I’ve driven past it on I-95, but never ventured into the city, or the campus.

 

 

Is it weird that my strongest memory of my college years, and someone who I learned more from during those 4 years, is a homeless guy named Gus?

 

 

“Leave me alone, you kids….”

 

 

Thanks Gus, I will leave you alone, NOW.