I’ve been reading a book on the early history of jazz. The book’s titled, appropriately enough, Early Jazz by Gunther Schuller. It’s a fascinating study of jazz from the turn of the century through the thirties, mostly because Schuller dissects jazz musically during this time. He’ll write paragraphs of intense explanation about a particular song’s swing. Great stuff.
And it’s fun because it satsifies my curiosity. I’ve always wanted to know more about jazz, and to be able to appreciate it. This book is my first step.
I picked up the book from the library because one of my
Meanwhile, I came across this as I finished my (third?)
We are sick and tired of whining about lousy bosses. (Or companies.) It is—as we see it—our life. To live…or lose. To form…or allow to be formed.
Dilbert is hilarious. (I.e., on the money.) And there’s the rub. Dilbert stands not only for cynicism (an emotion I appreciate) but also for the de facto acceptance of
It is my life. To live fully. Or not. And I damn well intend to live it fully. And I don’t think I’m alone.