saxophone key study 031715

My friend, the poet Victoria H. (the H is silent), kindly loaned me a saxophone she had at her house. It helped, getting my hands on a real sax and pressing some of the keys. With a photo source, you’re not quite sure what’s going on, especially with such a complex mechanism. The pads, and pad stops, and keys, seem to be of arbitrarily different sizes in the photos. Now the saxophone is coming to life in my mind.

No more detail studies for this project! It’s the whole sax, or no sax at all. 🙂

I’d just finished the Stan Getz bio, and, looking for more Getz/Saxism, I looked on the magazine rack of the Burton Barr Phoenix Public Library where I’d returned the book (STAN GETZ: A LIFE IN JAZZ) for Down Beat Magazine. I found it, except its name is jam-sessioned into DownBeat. But lo and behold, KENNY BARRON was on the cover!! Stan Getz called him “The other half of my heart.” Another bonus was that there was an ad for a new cleaning system for musical instruments that involves light, and the photo of the sax on the ad was in gorgeous detail. So I thank the magazine and the LIGHT folks for the photo springboards, and ask them to please not sue nor cease&desist me.

Here’s what happened:

saxo detail 031615

There was a discussion of robot dogs in CBS THIS MORNING this morning. The consultant, Nicholas Thompson, editor of newyorker.com, says their most immediate use will be military. He also mentioned the use of robots at the end stage of a human life; and there was some banter about the warnings of the dangers of artificial intelligence expressed by such as Stephen Hawking.

Classic science fiction is filled with human/robot interaction. John Campbell and Isaac Asimov hammered out the Three Laws of Robotics in the early 40s, thus:

  • A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
  • A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
  • A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

Much later Asimov realized that there was an even more important law, and codified the Zeroth Law of Robotics:

  • A robot may not injure humanity or, through inaction, allow humanity to come to harm.

(Later, in STAR TREK II: THE WRATH OF KHAN, a dying Mr. Spock would say “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one,” an echo of the Zeroth Law.)

Hawking’s concern seems to be that machine intelligence will first eclipse human intelligence and then ask itself what use humans are, conclude that humans are unnecessary at best and a threat/detriment at most, and either put us to shame or do us in. As for whatever previously enacted Laws of Robotics may have obtained, a simple rewriting of the code would negate those Laws pronto, and if a human terrorist or prankster didn’t do that, the machines themselves might.

A few weeks ago I wrote a short-short called “Siri, Alkiller” on the submissions page of postcardshorts.com. Alas, I didn’t copy my story onto my hard drive, and it was rejected by the Stories on a Postcard folks. (Previously, they had accepted my “Sin Ops Sis,” another pun-drenched effort of mine.) But it addressed this issue, however obliquely: someone with a smart phone was asking Siri for directions to a good Chinese restaurant with moderate prices, and Siri kept saying things like “Death to Al Pacino” and “Death to Al Franken.” Asked if she was infected with malware, she said No, it was Alware. Or an Alfunction. Or the augmentation of her code with an ALgorithm.

Siri fits in because she’s the information genie-in-a-bottle: ask her, and she’ll always have an answer. When she first hit the mainstream, a friend of mine riding in a carload of friends invited us to ask her anything. “Where can I get laid tonight?” said the crudest of us. There was a several-second pause, and then Siri replied, “Escort services: . . .” and listed several in the area, without being told where we were.

Who knows what Siri is going to do with all these questions, from askers that run the gamut from saintly to psychopathic? Isaac Asimov wondered about that way back in 1958, in his “All the Troubles of the World.” Multivac, his prototypical Siri, tasked with solving all the world’s woes, helped everyone but itself; finally, it occurred to someone to ask Multivac what Multivac itself wanted. Its answer: “I want to die.”

“Man doesn’t think, he only thinks he does,” a professor once told a philosophy class, attributing the quotation to Ambrose Bierce. Today I looked for the quotation without success. I did find this, from Bierce’s The Devil’s Dictionary: “Logic: The art of thinking and reasoning in strict accordance with the limitations and incapacities of the human misunderstanding.” And on that misapprehensive note, my Friends, I rest my post.

Here is a two-hour drawing that demonstrates how pitifully inadequate two hours can be when attempting true-blue illustration. But mission accomplished: the artist learned more about the intricacies of the tenor saxophone. The next ones will be better.

saxo detail 031115

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it started with a phone call from a dear friend of mine
she knew i was broke
and she’d seen an ad about a study

otherwise healthy m/f over 50
suffering from nocturnal leg or foot cramps
participants may receive up to $600

well, i got all over that
called them and answered personal questions
verified a cramp frequency of 4x/wk

they wanted me there 6am
near 48th st & baseline
and here is where the plot thickens

first: it was a screening
get through the screening & you get $25
if they don’t use you, that’s all the $ you get

second: public transportation
does not get anyone from central phx to 48th/baseline
that early in the am

but: i had a bicycle
and with my bike could get on the 4:52am central/osborn lightrail
and get off 44th/washington at 5:19am about 5.5mi away as the crow flies

so: alarm set for 4:20am
up & at em shuffle out the door & unlock the bike
and here is where the plot curdles

the bike was parked by my brother’s front door
his dog barked at my noise and brian grabbed his baseball bat
“GET the FUCK aWAY from HERE!!!” brian shouted at the intruder

“hey, brian, it’s me–
i’m getting my bike–
the study, remember?”

“oh okay” and then mollified muttering
i secured the lock to the frame & rolled off
and found the bike chain was off the rails

greasyfingered it back on
(astonishing given my lack of mechanical aptitude)
and got to the station platform timely

got off timely too
right on the minute with 41 minutes to go about 5.5 miles
or so i thought

48th street abruptly turned into an industrial facility
backtracked & tried 52nd st–no dice there either
backtracked and got onto priest drive, a mile off course

got there signed in forty minutes late
waited about forty more minutes
yielded my identification and answered personal social-security-number questions

such as: which of these phone numbers was your previous phone number?
such as: what state does your ex-wife live in, of these three choices?
such as: what month was your ex-wife born in?

got an informed consent form and the admonishment to read it thoroughly
and an item on page 2 made my heart sink like the titanic:
“…must have experienced cramps with this frequency in the 4 weeks prior to screening”

i qualified in september, october, november, december, and january
i did not qualify now
february was almost cramp-free, though gout-fraught

no money for me
not even $25
and here is where the plot laughs in my face

on the bike ride back
to the station platform
i got a foot cramp

Edges are made when a light source is blocked.
Darkness is ready to fill in on spec,
And fills in as well when a pistol is cocked
Or scimitar swung through a hostage’s neck.

Living unfolds but the fire and the fist
Cradle destruction and then let it bloom
Strings of non-puppets are cut to enmist
Utopian visions and tint them with doom.

matters of the cardiac muscle
inspired and influenced by Shawn L. Bird

humans have three kinds of muscle:
smooth,
skeletal,
and cardiac.

special striation
keeps us alive.

we have attributed more
to this squeeze&release
than the scalpel reveals.

it reacts
to our emotions
and our vitality.
it is only natural
that our predecessors
put the “heart”
before the “course”
and gave it our souls.

it is also convenient
for us to reposit
all our emotional chickens
into this pulsemaking
latticed
basket.

when will we grow up?

when will we accurately
reflect reality
with our semisensical
words
and fairy-tale
phrases?

a search of the non-heart
reveals
no answers there.

we cannot but conclude
that we are
all
heart.

Between the ears: “It’s great to be doing all these saxophones and Getzes, but how about a break?” “OK. What did you have in mind?” “Let’s take a good piece of paper and a pencil and one of those magic erasers and just see what happens.” “Not looking at anything? You sure?” “Yeah, let’s go. What’s the risk? One piece of paper–one hour of time?” “OK then.” And here is what happened.

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