He moved back to Fort Lauderdale in December of that year, again living on the streets for weeks at a time.
04/23/11 -- Stuff & Guff -- 0 Comments
The Fool.
Kurt.
04/22/11 -- Stuff & Guff -- 0 Comments
Harlequin.
The Harlequin is the comic of the show. He is a servant and the love interest of Columbine. His everlasting high-spirits and cleverness work to save him from several difficult situations which his amoral behaviour gets him into during the course of the play. In some Italian forms of the harlequinade, Harlequin is able to perform magic feats. He never holds a grudge or seeks revenge.
04/22/11 -- Stuff & Guff -- 0 Comments
The boy.
Circles.
04/18/11 -- Stuff & Guff -- 0 Comments
Robie’s Windows.
The girl.
Tall and tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes walking.
And when she passes, each one she passes goes, “Ahh.”
When she walks, she’s like a samba that swings so cool and sways so gently.
That when she passes, each one she passes goes, “Ahh.”
Ooh, but he watches so sadly.
How can he tell her he loves her?
Yes he would give his heart gladly,
But instead when she walks to the sea,
She looks straight ahead not at he.
Tall, and tan, and young, and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes walking.
And when she passes, he smiles–but she doesn’t see.
(StanGetz-a-phone solo)
Ooh, but he watches so sadly.
How can he tell her he loves her?
Yes he would give his heart gladly,
But each day, when she walks to the sea,
She looks straight ahead, not at he.
Tall, and tan, and young, and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes walking.
And when she passes, he smiles–but she doesn’t see.
She just doesn’t see.
- - - - -
The song was inspired by Heloísa Eneida Menezes Paes Pinto, a fifteen-year-old girl living on Montenegro Street in the fashionable Ipanema district in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Daily she would stroll past the popular Veloso bar-café, not just to the beach, but in the everyday course of her life.
She would sometimes enter the bar to buy cigarettes for her mother and leave to the sound of wolf-whistles. In the winter of 1962 the composers watched the girl pass by the bar, and it is easy to imagine why they noticed her — Helô was five-foot eight-inchs, brunette, and she attracted the attention of many of the bar patrons.
In Revealed: The Real Girl from Ipanema Moraes wrote she was:
“the paradigm of the young Carioca (a native inhabitant of Rio): a golden teenage girl, a mixture of flower and mermaid, full of light and grace, the sight of whom is also sad, in that she carries with her, on her route to the sea, the feeling of youth that fades, of the beauty that is not ours alone — it is a gift of life in its beautiful and melancholic constant ebb and flow.”
- - - - -
On March 18, 1963, Stan goes into the studio to record “Getz/Gilberto”. Joao Gilberto (Astrud’s husband) was almost pathologically shy, and refuses to leave his hotel room to go to the studio. Stan’s wife goes to his hotel and pleads with Gilberto to go. The only Brazilian fluent in English present at the session was Gilberto’s wife, Astrud. Stan asks her to sing “Corcodavo” and “The Girl From Impanema”. She has no training or experience, but Stan likes her voice.
“Gilberto and Jobim didn’t want Astrud on it. Astrud wasn’t a professional singer; she was a housewife. But when I wanted translations of what was going on, and she sang ‘Ipanema’ and ‘Corcodavo’, I thought the words in English were very nice. And Astrud sounded good enough to put on the record.”
The Troubled Genius of Stan Getz
04/16/11 -- Stuff & Guff -- 0 Comments
Brun(o).
My feet.
I’d sampled the wares of others too long,
Until I came to find this song.
And there I found a world so deep,
So deep I could no longer see my feet.
But I can feel them, I’m sure.
They’re planted firmly on the floor.
Now all I gotta do is learn to walk,
Then sing, and dance, and sway, and talk.
It’s kinda funny, you know,
All those times I put on a show.
I forgot who I was.
The only reason; just because.
I guess it’s my only regret,
But now I’ll never forget.
For when I’m down and beat,
All I need to feel is my feet.
04/4/11 -- Writing -- 0 Comments
The Chess Tournament.
I didn’t write this joke. I read it in a newspaper I found on the train.
- -
A big chess tournament was taking place at the Plaza in New York. After the first day’s competition, many of the winners sat in the hotel foyer bragging about their skillful play. As they had more to drink, they started getting louder and louder, until the desk clerk couldn’t take any more. He kicked them out.
The next morning the Manager called the clerk into his office. He had received many complaints about the clerk’s rudeness to the chess players. The Manager said, “Boy, you were wrong to kick those players out. You should have just asked them to be less noisy.”
The clerk responded, “I’m sorry, but if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s chess nuts boasting in an open foyer.”
04/4/11 -- Stuff & Guff -- 0 Comments
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