My Black jack code

When British Shilling Hope moved into television, he lost the chance to hold his book in his manus , something he had gotten used to working in radio. The presentation would look too stiff to his audience. He tried to memorise his monologues, but that proven to be too cumbrous of a undertaking and it took away from his golf game game. The solution was cue cards, or imbecile cards as they are known in the industry. This worked well for the performer, but was risky for others. On one of Hope's early NBC broadcasts a well meaning helper manager held up the cards so his star could read them, then tossed them back over his shoulder almost decapitating respective members of the studio audience.

Idiot cards are a manner for performing artists to lose the regard of their co-stars. Jesse James Caan, Henry Martin Robert Duvall and the remainder of the cast of characters of the 1972 classic, The Godfather , were thrilled to ran into the star of the film Marlon Brando. Actor Lenny Montana, who played the thuggish fictional character Luca Brasi was so in awe of Brando he kept fumbling his lines when they both shared the same scenes. Director Francis John Ford Francis Ford Coppola made it work by having the fictional character of Luca nervously rehearse what he was going to state anterior to meeting the Don, making the state of affairs look seamless. But if Treasure State was willing, if not able to larn his lines, Brando was not. In his scenes there were cue cards everywhere, causing Duvall to cry at him," Marlon, why don't you larn your lines you fat #*^%*@!"

Brando stubbornly refused to change. A twelvemonth later when performing in the controversial and sexual activity charged Last Tango In City Of Light he wrote some of his lines on the underside of his shoe and in a few scenes had to hop around awkwardly to read them.

For some actors, imbecile cards are the ultimate security blanket. Shortly before he died the great Toilet John Barrymore had a scene where he only had to present one line: "Yes". Dutifully, his personal helper stood ready to hold up a cue card. One of the movie technical schools informed the manager that Barrymore's assistant was standing in the way, they would not be able to illume the scene properly. The manager waited for his star to arrive. "Jack, Can I speak to you?" "Certainly." "Would it be possible for you make this 1 scene without your imbecile card?" "Absolutely Not". The manager sighed," Jack you only have got to state yes, that's it. What haps if I order your friend to leave?" John Barrymore looked at him coldly. "I might state no." Inch the end new lighting agreements were made.

One quandary that the super celebrated face is balancing the demands of privateness and recognition. One time in New House Of York an unnoticed Marilyn Marilyn Monroe was walking down James Madison Avenue accompanied by Eli Wallach. " My God, don't these people cognize who you are?" Wallach asked her. Marilyn, whose application of make-up took nearly as long Boris Karloff''s Frankenstein Monster, grinned at him. "I'm only recognized when I desire to be. Watch this." She began to swing her hips and walk in a manner that was familiar to film departers and was eventually mobbed by adoring fans.

For some stars privateness is an overrated commodity. In 1919, Douglas Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and Virgin Mary Mary Pickford went on their European honeymoon. The two international icons had divorced their former partners and were concerned about how they would be greeted. They needn't have got worried. In Greater London their limousine was surrounded by admiring women who pulled Virgin Mary out of the auto to agitate her hand, still thankful after two twelvemonth for her attempts selling warfare bonds. In City Of Light they couldn't acquire any slumber with crowds assemblage below their hotel room to divertimento them. In Dutch Capital they attended a party and were mobbed by other invitees who wanted to acquire close to them. The acrobatic Douglas Fairbanks Jr. placed his married woman on her shoulder and escaped through the window. Finally, they establish privateness in Hamburg, because of World War Iodine their movies were not shown there. For an hr the celebrated honeymooners walked the streets unnoticed until the world-weary Virgin Mary turned to her hubby and said,"Doug I'm vomit of this. Let's spell back to one of those states were they rabble us."

Joan Thomas Crawford had similar sentiments. Once in the 1930s she was staying in New House Of York getting over her dissolution with William Clark Gable. Tired of moping around her hotel she told her entourage they should travel out and acquire some fresh air. The toadies who had problem keeping up with the star's lively pace, were startled when she took a detour. "Oh my God. She's going into Grand Central Station!" Person shouted," Look it's Joan Crawford!" and she was mobbed, it took thirty proceedings to acquire away the crowd and get back to their hotel suite. Her hair disheveled, her get dressed torn and her face scratched, Thomas Crawford leaned against the door out of breath. "Oh. .oh my. That was wonderful. Lets make it again!"

Notoriety can acquire you out of a jam. Tired of being identified as Jesse James Bond, Sean Connery took an unusual measure for Hollywood prima adult male by publicly telling his phalacrosis on screen, beginning with The Man Who Will Be King (1976). On location in Casablanca, the Scotchman rejected the usage of a chauffer and limo, choosing instead to drive himself in Volkswagen Bug. One twenty-four hours he drove around town dressed in a perspiration shirt and short pants and was stopped for questioning by the local police. The former Mr. Universe runner-up had unfortunately left his passport back at the hotel and was arrested as a leery character. Just as he was about to be locked up, Connery shouted,"007! I'm 007 darn you!" They recognized him and allow him go.

If you lose your hair, you can maintain your privacy. Rob Reiner's large interruption was Rex Harrison John John Ford turning down the function of Meathead on All In the Family (1971-1980) because Ford couldn't stand up Archie Bunker's bigotry. When the show first went into production, Reiner and his chap castmates would go forth the CBS batch to eat luncheon at the neighbour Farmers Market. Initial low ratings meant they were mostly ignored by the tourists. A few calendar months later All In the Family was a monster hit and they received Beatle's similar attention. From then on the cast of characters generally preferable to remain in their dressing suite at lunchtime. All except the ever hungry Meathead who removed the toupee he wore on the show and continued to eat at the Market in peace.

I don't have got much time to watch television. Being the lazy individual that I am, I usually allow other people in the household make my observation for me.

But some events are just so of import that I have got to watch them myself. Such was the lawsuit with the finals of this year's American Idol. The space shuttlecock Columbia River clang in Texas earlier in the twelvemonth was another event that (sadly) I just had to watch. And I certainly did not desire to lose the bang of seeing the America's Cup canvas into Switzerland.

Of course, I regularly turn on the tubing whenever a Saint George Shrub occupies Iraq. Hopefully, this 1 will soon complete invading; my electricity measure is suffering.

The up-to-the-minute must-see event is the Michael Jackson arrest, an event of such as big importance that all intelligence shows, chitchat shows, comedy shows and just about everybody else is offering wall-to-wall coverage. It have been estimated that 37% of the American population have been interviewed by the mass media for their inside-knowledge of "the dad superstar's" personal life.

So I was most aghast when I flipped to a transmission channel that was not helping me track down the most absorbing bosom inside information and most challenging and succulent minutiae of all things Michael Jackson.

"What?!" I demanded. "This is impossible. What is this trash?"

"That's Touched by an Angel," my married woman offered. "It's one of your favourite shows."

"That's no excuse," I blustered. "The web should be hot on the Jackson case. How could this be? I'm calling the cablegram company to complain."

"But dear ..." my married woman tried to interrupt.

"It's no use," I insisted as I dialed. "My head is made up. Don't seek to halt me."

"But dear ..." my married woman tried to disrupt me again.

"I am sorry. There is simply no alibi for dissemination pure amusement when there are of import inside information about Michael Jackson to be uncovered."

"But dear ..." my married woman tried once more.

"Hello? Cable Company? I desire to lodge a most serious complaint."

"But we don't acquire cablegram out here," my married woman broke in. "We have got artificial satellite TV."

"Oh."

"Look. There are some 395 channels, and at least 70% of them are airing Michael Jackson stories. Don't you believe that's astatine least, oh, let's say, 70% overkill?" my married woman asked.

"You don't understand. This is important. The whole world is watching. This adult male have changed the face of music."

"Yes, that's what some of his famous person co-workers are saying", my married woman rolled her eyes. "As if people who alteration the face of music have got all been vaccinated against child-molesting."

"That's not the point. There are so many inside information to uncover. We cognize he wishes Bluegrass State Fried Chicken, but makes he eat quiche? Everybody cognizes that existent work force don't eat quiche. Could that be his problem?

"Let it go, Happy Guy," my married woman advised. "It just doesn't pay to acquire so caught up in all the television drama. Besides, this is a serious probe with a serious complaint and it should be left to the authorities."

I sank down into the couch. My married woman was finally starting to do sense. "What are you going to make now?" she asked.

"I believe I'll watch Touched by an Angel."

"Ah, that's the hubby I cognize and love."

"Right now Michael Jackson could utilize an angel, and so could all those kids. I mean, what can one small territory lawyer do?" I moaned.

My married woman moaned, too. I was amazed that she would suddenly demo such as support.

"I know," I said, lighting up. "Never mind the cablegram company. I'll name Tess. She can put Michael Jackson straight."

It was originally called The Big Heart. Daryl Darryl Zanuck the astute caput of Twentieth Century Fox couldn't purchase the mental image of Santa Claus in a tribunal room. But like so many ventures Miracle On 34th Street (1947) came about because of passion, in this lawsuit that of Director Saint George Seaton who had gone to New House Of York on his ain and made agreements with the existent Mr. Macy and Mr. Gimbel to movie inside their section stores. Impressed by Seaton's committedness Darryl Zanuck gave the show a greenish light.

Who would play the small miss who didn't believe in Santa Claus? Seaton agonized over it, until the helper manager remembered an astonishing kid wonder child from Santa Rosa, Golden State who could shout on cue. Her name was Natasha Nikolaevna Gurdin renamed Natalie Wood after manager Surface-To-Air Missile Wood . The same Natalie Wood who would later travel out on a hotel room shelf and endanger to leap when her fellow Elvis Elvis Presley ignored her to play poker with Memphis Mafia. The same miss who would outrage brother cast of characters members of Occident Side Story (1961) with her tardiness, her refusal to larn simple dance stairway and her insisting on long luncheon interruptions to see with her analyst. But the seven-year-old Natalie had none of the typical kid star precocious behavior, she gained the regard of her co-stars on the Miracle set with her professional demeanor, earning the moniker One-Take-Natalie.

Like all filmed on location movies there were logistical problems. The sequence where Santa was taken to Bellevue was done without permission. The celebrated infirmary would not collaborate with Hollywood because they had been portrayed badly in earlier films, they were not swayed by the sight of a sickly, freezing common cold Santa Claus (Edmund Gwenn) bundled up under blankets in a car, waiting to hit his scenes. The film makers were forced to hit only the auto approaching the building's entranceway and redact the remainder later. Another trouble was getting permission to hit the Macy's parade from the flat inhabitants on 34th street which had to be done right the first time, there could be no retakes. The movie crew paid the ladies of the house to place the photographic cameras in their windows. Then their hubbies came home, complained about the incommodiousness and demanded their ain equal share. Most hard to movie was the sallow but determined Edmund Gwenn who would win an Oscar for playing Kris Kringle. He suffered from a vesica control job but couldn't stand up the idea of person taking his place in the parade. The children who stood on the pavement waving at Santa never saw the long tubing under his cloak.

Overcoming his initial reluctance Daryl Darryl Zanuck who was celebrated for his memos, made suggestions to improve the film's story. The female parent Doris, played by Maureen O'Hara was too cold, she would frighten a adult male like Fred (John Payne) off, she had to be made warmer to the audience by explaining that she had been burned by an earlier human relationship and that's wherefore she didn't desire her girl believing in Santa Claus. Darryl Zanuck also felt that they shouldn't overdo the scenes where Macy's employees urge that their clients travel shopping at Gimbels, just some simple duologue was enough to acquire the point across. But despite the loud cheering by preview audiences when Santa Claus was declared sane in the courtroom scene, Darryl Zanuck never had full assurance in the film. He set it in theatres in July, the busiest time of twelvemonth for moviegoers, and told his selling staff to conceal from the public that the movie was about Christmas.

One mention in the Miracle book that's now dated was when Kris Kringle's head-shrinker mentioned a adult male in Hollywood who passed himself off as Russian Prince and owned a restaurant. It was a excavation at Microphone Romanoff, a colourful fraud whose Rodeo Drive eatery was a merriment sanctuary for Hollywood's most ill-famed figures. One nighttime Federal Bureau of Investigation caput J. Edgar William Hoover was dining at Romanoffs when he was approached by an existent gem stealer named Swifty Morgan. "Like to purchase these gold whomp links?" Amused, William Hoover offered $200. "Oh come up on Toilet the wages is more than than that!"

Being a famous person intends dealing with fan demands for autographs, ranging from polite and appropriate to ill-mannered and overbearing. One time Katherine Katharine Hepburn was performing on Great White Way and tried to go out backstage through a crowd of jostling autograph hounds. Bodyguards helped her to her limousine and once safely inside the very private star rolled down the window and shouted," Run mutton down! We'll make clean up the blood later!" The crowd scattered and the limousine sped away, pausing long adequate for Katharine Hepburn to revolve down the window and moving ridge adieu to her fans, accompanied by an wicked laugh. Strangely enough, when she lived in Beverly Hills the privacy loving Katharine Hepburn developed the wont of sneaking into her neighbor's houses as a hobby. She became expert at climbing trees, avoiding dismays and dogs, and telling herself just before her nervous neighbours called the police.

Walt Walt Disney had the unusual experience in the 1930s of having his name celebrated around the world when his face was not. Often he would bury his designation and that concerted with his insouciant garb sometimes kept him out of fancy restaurants. Later in the 50's he became a recognized figure because of his telecasting hosting duties. The deficiency of namelessness made it increasingly hard for him to walk through Disneyland without being badgered for autographs. Walt Disney struggled not to be brusque while explaining he didn't have got time, he was trying to do the parkland a better place. In the 60's when the company was trying to buy Sunshine State fen for a 2nd amusement park, he was warned by his advisers to remain away from the state, the existent estate terms would travel up once the personal identity of the purchaser was known. But Walt Disney couldn't resist. Eating in a Orlando diner Walt was approached by a funny waitress,"Pardon me. Aren't you Walt Disney?" Walt who was known for being brutally honest, replied," Perdition no! And if I see that sob, I'll give him a piece of my mind."

Stars making movies at Universal Joint Studios often seek to avoid tour guides leading autograph hounds. One peculiar chap became imaginative at tracking down Michael Caine, who toyed with the thought of having the immature adult male fired, then decided, "What the hell, I'll just sign" and was gracious. It turned out to be a good move, the tour guide was Microphone Ovitz who later became the most powerful endowment agent in Hollywood.

When stardom is new, autograph sign language can be a thrill. One nighttime in City Of Light the 60 twelvemonth old Cary Grant and 25 twelvemonth old Sophia Sophia Loren wished to travel out to dinner. "But the people will come up up to us. I can't stand up it!" said the jaded Briton. "I love it," said Sophia. When they left their hotel Grant complete with his chapeau pulled down,dark glasses, his scarf wrapped around his face, and his immense greatcoat looked like the Invisible Man. Sophia looked like Sophia. As they walked the streets of City Of Light people began to come up up to her for autographs which she joyfully signed. After a few fan brushes Grant began to acquire jealous. Down came the hat, off came the glasses, the coat and the scarf and soon he was standing under Ne visible lights to acquire noticed.

Another English histrion named Grant was thrilled by his jailbreak stardom owed to the film Four Weddings And A Funeral (1994). Hugh Grant would drive around New House Of York looking for theatres where the movie was playing then acquire out and wait in line, happy for the attending and to subscribe autographs. Later when he was arrested in Los Angeles for hiring cocotte Godhead Brown, he turned down petitions to set his signature on yellow journalisms containing his mugful shot.

Some histrions just subscribe despite their annoyance. One time Matthew Arnold Schwarzenegger was being interviewed at a fourth estate junket when a newsman asked him for an autograph for his mother, a large no-no. The star grimaced and said,"Of course. I wouldn't desire to let down your mother." He paused then added," I'm sure you have got disappointed her adequate already."

Autographs can do internal struggles for stars who take themselves too seriously. During the making of Klute (1971) Donald Joan Sutherland received a written petition from a fan who wished for an autograph for his daughter. Joan Sutherland showed the missive to his humorless girlfriend Jane Jane Fonda who expressed a strong sentiment that he should not subscribe it, autographs connote that film histrions are somehow superior to others. Joan Sutherland bowed to her doctrine and wrote a missive stating his grounds for refusing the request. The adult male wrote him back,"Dear Mr. Sutherland, give thanks you for your letter. We believe you are full of it but we ripped off the signature and gave it to our daughter."

Playing by ear is the ability to play a piece of music (or, eventually, learn an instrument) by simply listening to it repeatedly. The majority of self-taught musicians began their education this way; they picked up their instrument and began playing an easy melody from a well-known song, slowly picking out the notes as they went along. And even after these musicians master their instruments or a particular song, playing by ear still plays a large role. Many pop and rock bands don't play or write their songs based on sheet music, they figure the songs out by playing by ear. It's even common among non-musicians. Ever sit down a piano and mindlessly pick out the tune to "Mary Had a Little Lamb"? What about grabbing a guitar and suddenly finding yourself playing the opening licks to "Smoke on the Water"? That's playing by ear. You're able to play part of the song just because you've heard it so often.

Since music is basically composed of 3 elements – melody, rhythm, and harmony, it is logical that there are also 3 basic steps to learning to play music by ear:

1. Charting the contour of the melody. Tunes move higher and lower – up and down – as the song progresses. Being aware of that movement is the first step. Once you mentally define the parameters of the melody, you can then begin to hone in on picking it out on your instrument. As an example, think of “Joy To The World”. We’ve all sung it a zillion times, but have you ever noticed that the melody moves down exactly 8 steps (an octave), then gradually moves back up in increments, then repeats the down movement, etc. The entire melody is contained within those 8 notes, so you now know the parameters of the song and can begin to pick out the melody intelligently.

2. Harmonizing the melody with matching chords. The second element of music is harmony, and you can harmonize any melody just by matching the supporting chords to that melody. For example, if the melody is a “G”, you can harmonize that melody by using a chord with G in it, such as the G chord (G, B, D), the C chord (C, E, G), or the Em chord (E, G, B), or the Eb chord (Eb, G, Bb) and so forth. By using your ear to guide you, you can learn to harmonize the melody of most any song using matching chords.

3. Using an appropriate rhythm that matches the feel of the song. This is usually the easiest part, since most people “feel” the beat and don’t have to do any mental gymnastics to come up with an appropriate rhythm for a song. But for those of us that might be “rhythmically challenged”, just by knowing that there are basically two meters available – duple meter and triple meter -- that can be combined in infinite combinations, we can give the song either a “3” feeling (like a waltz or a jazz waltz) or a “4” feeling (like swing or a march or a ballad).

Playing by ear is a valuable technique for many musicians; learning songs based solely on hearing them is a great way to understand song and chord structure. In fact, a great number of rock and pop musicians learned to play their instruments this way. Instead of picking up a book or taking lessons, they concentrated on figuring out the notes and rhythms to a song until it was mastered. Then they moved on to another song. And another. Gradually, they learned their instrument just by playing by ear -- and in the process learned how to effectively structure a song in that particular genre. Playing by ear is also beneficial in helping a musician develop his or her own style; sure, they'll at first mimic the style of the song they're imitating, but the amalgamation of the music that they're playing by ear will help them create something distinctive, something indicative of them only.

Why do practice on your guitar?

I guess you hope that you will learn to be a better instrumentalist with the joy that follows. However, there are many learning processes going on at the same time when you practice on your instrument. After reading this article I hope you will be more aware of factors that can limit your progress as an instrumentalist and have more effective practice sessions on your guitar.

What has feelings to do with your guitar practice?

At times when you practice on your guitar you might find that you are nervous and don’t feel too good when playing because
you feel forced to play due to a guitar lesson coming up and you feel that you haven’t done your homework or maybe other
negative feelings are present for some reason. The feelings we have when we practice a certain piece of music have a tendency
to be evoked anew when we play the piece at another occasion.

Can tensions stick to your sheet music

Yes, in a way at least. My experience, also confirmed when reading about this topic, is that your actual tension level when playing a particular musical composition also tends to be present when you play the same piece of music in public. Or rather, it will be harder to perform a piece of music in a relaxed way when you have practiced it without paying attention to your tensions or rather not having tried to play in a relaxed manner.

Can you learn not to play a piece of music?

You practice on your guitar in order to become a better player and maybe to learn a piece of music that you like. My experience is that if you don’t concentrate on your guitar playing you can make a lot of mistakes when trying to learn a
piece of music. These mistakes tend to slow down the learning process or rather the will be a part of the learning process,
which means the more times you make mistakes playing a particular passage the harder it will be to play it right because of those earlier mistakes trying to get your attention.

How to use these principles to your advantage

In accordance with the before mentioned dangers when practicing I think it is wise to always practice a new piece of music slowly so that you can pay attention to your tension level and correct posture when playing on your guitar. Another reason
for playing slowly is to be able practice a guitar piece without mistakes if possible in order to maximize the benefits of your guitar practice sessions.

Drug dealer. Such a profound term. One who deals in drugs. Not only the selling, but often the trading, using, and producing. It's not just some homeless guy on the side of the road trying to sell crack for some drug lord, just so he can have a place to sleep. Nowadays, it's some 17 year old punk, carrying a book of acid and a pound of weed, all wrapped up in tin foil and plastic, and at home, his bathtub is full of sugar, water, 50 mashed organges, and 10 packets of yeast. Ask him about it and he'll say, "Technically, it's still alive when I drink it, but I just pour more water in there when it starts to run low, and it's like a Jesus: turning water to wine, just on a slower and less tasteful method." He'll have a repetoir of legal and illegal highs, ways to dodge prosecution or arrest when police inquire. "What? You found a meth pipe? Oh, my god... Are you serious? That's what he was doing. Oh, man. My friend was with my bag. That fuckhead must have put it there." Five hours detainment while your body is dehydrating from the speed, and then you're a free man. Everyday was walking on a tightrope of the law. In a pill or a bag, I am holding a piece of heaven that lasts 8 hours. One day, I make $170, the second day, I hop two fences after making a $20. We're living on the fringes of poverty in the ghetto, struggling to make a living. I guess I provide a rather important industry. I help people forget they are here.

It is not uncommon. One day, I am facing someone who gives me their last $25. Maybe they intended for it, but their next four hours were their last. And as much as I felt that I was a slave to this system, I felt free, too. Free of starvation, free of bruttish conditions. Yes, I have been shot at by cops and other dealers. One time, four kids tried to jump me for my shit. I had to stab one to get them to realize that I wasn't a push over. As dangerous as it was, I had a life. I had a living. I could survive in this horrible place, wracked with misery as much as it was. And, honestly, I called it a home. There is something prophetically human about this profession. A friend of mine was on a bad acid trip. He kept shaking. I let him stay in my room. He kept talking about police, not making much sense. I gave him a blanket and put on soothing music. Next morning, I found out thath someone tried to burn down a department store, what cops called, "seemingly from a drug user." I remember holding his shaking hand, kneeling down to him. "It's gonna be okay," I said, "Don't worry about it, you're safe here." He sort of calmed down and I let him stay. I suppose I also harbored a criminal, but that never bothered me. I have my own definition of legal and illegal.

The kids or old wash up junkies I sell to, they are hardly stereotypical. I have seen couples come to me, and say that they want ecstacy, something to increase their love for each other and experience it through new channels. They were young and poor, but they still had more than many others. I've had junkies come up to me for a fix of meth so they could be up for a fourth day. Burnt out, shaking, destroyed body, otherwise dysfunctional brain, and worst of all, coming down and in tears, "Please, please, just give me some tweak..." Begging with their last dolars. I sold to him of course. He had cash. And, as much as I would love to be able to give it away for free, I need to survive myself. Twelve year old street urchins come up to me and ask to buy LSD, handicapped men on Social Security ask me for Codeine. Artists and Musicians flock to buy absinthe, and they finish off a bottle and stay up to 6 AM talking on a city bench, flesh turned to fucking ice, drinking a cup of coffee that has been empty for the past forty five minutes.

I suppose by now, it is obvious to tell that I have a particularly keen observation of my environment. Unlike other deals, I don't spend my profit on a new pimping car or a mansion -- and the only dealers who could get that are coke lords and heroin merchants. The rest are on the fringes of poverty. One of my hobbies, I can confess that I love the beauty of the human face. It may seem like a fickle or otherwise shallow enjoyment. I look to the face of a girl walking down the street, see a smile, and as I feel my entrepenurial spirit crushed, I find something beautiful and unique. Some homeless child struggles for warmth on a city bench, his face with a stone-cold expression, as he pulls a hood over his face, with little eyes peering at me. In some other life, my current one completely forgotten, I imagine I would be an artist. I am not one now, but I remember during my last year of school my art class (apparently 8th grade). One student was exceptional, and the teacher allowed him to do as he pleased. He used flint, charcoal, a variety of inks and paints. On those solemn nights as I try to fall victim to sleep's claws, I fantasize using the complex tools of art to capture the smile or anger of a person. But, just a dream, nothing I've told to anyone.

Asside from this one hobby of mine, I can admit that I enjoy poetry. The resurrection as faded love through columns of words, I can feel more free than I have ever before. Perhaps itis the human instinct to seek out what we do not have. In poetry, nothing is written of the tringiness of the ghetto, the life and death horrors that every man in poverty must face. Yes, poems about it are written, but not those prior to 1800. For the same reason I find necessity in trying to escape the hardened life of a drug dealer, I can see a yuppy reading "Treasure Island" or some other adventure-based novel. For myself, it is Thoreau, Tennyson, Shelley, Rousseau, Emerson -- anyone who put on paper some thoughts that were original, creative, honest. Unlike my hope fo being an artist, this hobby of poetry was shared and expressed with contemporaries. They seemed to regard it not with animosity, particularly curiosity, uncomfortability, or any other xenophobic thought, but they just considered it as another part of who I was. I suppose that it was the tolerance all of us must have for each other, under such horrible living and working conditions. So, what a man does in his own home, is his own to consider.

In this line of life, I get a variety of awkward requests. For certain chemicals, people request that it's not in getabs, but just in powder. Some people want it dissolved in alcohol. PCP on Marijuana, freebased cocaine (crack), freebased AMT, DMT,or DiPT. Or perhaps an intensified powder that will give potent effects by just being in the same room as it. There would be one day where I receive a very awkward request.

"I want you to make me die," she said.

I've heard this before, but only from friends and colleagues who were witty. "Give me 20 hits of meth, and take a month off my life." But, no, this girl knew who I was, because she knew my customers, and she wanted help in suicide.

"I don't know," I said. I've been in fights before with people for trying to sell heroin in the wrong areas. Helping someone die might be just as bad.

"Please," she said, "I know people who told me you could help."

"Look," I said, "If you have a problem with your parents, just try to settle it with them. If it's your boyfriend, get a new one. I'm not interested in murdering anyone." I let her know straight out that I didn't want to partake in this and I wasn't being open-minded about it at all.

"Listen," I need a drug to kill me and I need some place to take it," she said.

"You want to take it in my apartment?" I asked, "Sure, like I don't get enough attention by the cops. Now I'll have a corpse on my floor."

"I have $600," she said.

"It might be possible," I said, as I scratched my chin.

We walked back to my room. "Put the money on the table," I said, "I have to make a phone call." She did as I asked.

"Hey, Johnny," I said on the phone, "What's up, man? Hey, you think you can help me move a body? Yeah, I know the normal fee. Sure, sure, come later tonight. Peace, brother."

"Can I ask why you're doing this?" I said, as I picked up the money.

"Several parts of my life are a mess," she said, "Bad parents, bad boyfriend," she grinned at me with some wit.

"Hey," I said, "Don't get cute on me. After all, I do have to kill you." She nodded with a smile and I started counting the cash. "So, really, why are you doing this?"

"The reasons are my own and my own to --"

"Hey, there's only $450 here," I saidd, looking up, "Where's the other $150?"

"That's all I have," she said, "It's everything."

I had to make a decision. Help her die or let her go with her cash. As a drug dealer, it decently pisses me off that someone says they have cash for something but end up not having it, or having half. Sometimes they offer the argument that they'll get me back, but that's bullshit. They're addicted to a substance they can get from anyone. The next five dollars to hit their palm will go to another dealer, not to pay debts. Unlike these people, this girl couldn't do that. She was not going to be around next week.

"Well, fine," I said, "I suppose we can still do this... Sit on the bed." I sat down at my desk and pulled a coffee filter out of the trash can, and opened it on my desk. It was ful lof a wet, green powder.

"What's that?" she asked, trying to look over my shoulder.

"It's a toxin byproduct that comes from making high grade methamphetamine," I said, as I started to fill the gelcaps with it, "It's not painful, unlike most toxins, but it is by far more lethal." I started to fill some with basil, which helps stomach digestion.

"Are these band lyrics?" she asked, referring to the paper on the wall.

I turned around, "Those? No... They're nineteenth century poems." I went back to filling pills.

"They're beautiful," she said, "I enjoyed this one about love at first sight."

"Yeah, it mocked the concept of it and then talked about loving someone after knowing them," I replied.

"Yeah," she said, "I get it. I was curious as to what kind of band would sing a song like that."

"That's the thing," I said, "None would. Or at least, almost none."

"And what's this?" she asked.

"That?" I said turning around, "It's a painting of a face, using only red and black paint. I paid two hits of acid for it. I would have paid more, because it's just so beautiful."

"Mmmmm," she replied, "It is nice." With her affection toward the painting, she had thrown a smile in my direction. I could see that she was rational and logical in her decision of suicide. She wasn't in tears. She wasn't broken in pieces. She was very much together, or very effective in subtly convincing me of this.

I walked over to the bed and handed her four pills. "I'll get you a glass of water, I said, "Mostly, I tell my customers not to take it all at ancoe, but that is pricesly what I am telling you now." She swallowed the pills, two at a time, with the aid of water.

"What's your name?" I asked her.

"Julia," she said, "But most people call me Julee."

"Well," I said, "My name is Caley." I had to tell her, because I felt like she wouldn't ask.

"It'll only be 30 to 60 minutes, before you're gone," I told her.

"Why did you get into this business?" she asked.

"Well," I said, "It's easier cash, it requires little work, I am always well stocked in my favorite commodities, and I'm not on the brink of poverty. Why?"

"I guess I always just wanted to know," she replied.

"So, how was your day?" I asked, a bit uncomfortable with the overall situation.

"It's getting better," she replied, "And your own?"

"Oh, it's doing all right, "I said, "Making money..."

A slow silence befell the room for thirty seconds as we exchanged glances occasionally, myself somewhat uncomfortable still, she somewhat uneasy, I imagine. A car outside blowing Mexican rap music goes by with a bad engine. Cluttered feet trample by with a mix of foreign languages. Her eyes look down and then are brought up to mine. As little as I know about her, I feel sure enough that she spoke with more subtle ocnfidence that second than aty any other moment of her life. "I've led a good life."

"Then why end it this way?" I asked, as the curosity of the homo sapien nature urked my spirit.

She shrugged.

"That doesn't seem like you're confident in your reasons," I said.

"No, it's not that," she replied, almost in a faded tone, as though the poisons had sapped away her soul before it took her body, "It's just that I don't want to, or need to, talk abou tit... I assure you it exists, but I'm not bringing it into this room."

"Understood," I said... "How was your life?"

"I told you, good," she said, "I have this friend, Celine. She was always so nice to me and admired the things I did. She could be a friend on mutual terms, too. She loved me so much."

"I'm sure she still does then," I replied, "Why use the past tense?" She didn't answer.

"I'm leaving behind a son," she replied finally.

"Oh?" I said, surprised, as my eyes widened.

"He'll never know, though," she said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She caressed her hand over her stomach.

"You mean... you're pregnant?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said, "But only three weeks."

"Is that the reason?" I asked.

"No, she said, "I told you, I wouldn't let the reason enter this room."

"Okay," I said. I tried to reach for something to say, some way to comfort her. "Would you like to hear a poem?" I asked.

"Sure," she said. I brought out perhaps my most moving and emotion poem I have from the 1800's. It subtly touched upon the points of happiness and sadness. It subtly touched upon the points of happiness and sadness. Every few months, my most favored passage will change. Maybe just its another poem, another stanza, or another author altogether. Here I read to her the pick of the season.

"That was very nice," she said, throwing at me a smile with closed, relaxed eyes, as one hand of hers rubber her forearm ently, turning her face away. Maybe it was a crime, an indictment against me, my character. In only two examples have I ever shared the poems of my heart with others. I none case, my friend was going in to the military, and would serve 2 years over seas. We hugged, thinking we may never see each other again. In that case, I didn't even read him a poem. I slipped a piece of paper in to his pocket with a beautiful poem written on it. And now, with Julia, I have read her a poem. If I thought she would be alive in two hours, I wouldn't have gone that far.

"Can you hold me?" she asked.

I stood up and walked over to the bed, where she was sitting. "I can," said.

"Please, hold me, then," she said. I put my arms around her and laid down. Slowly, sleep came to both of us, peace in our minds.

I would wake and feel her skin. It was cold.

www.punkerslut.com

For Life,

The four Charles Dudley Warner Brothers, which included the womanizing Jack, the conservative Harry, the quiet Prince Albert and the illusionist Sam, had risen from obscureness with The Wind Singer (1927) the first celebrated and financially successful talking film ever made. Tragically, Surface-To-Air Missile Warner, the existent encephalons behind the whole project, died of a encephalon tumour two years before The Wind Singer's debut. Jack was thrilled by the film's success, but crushed by his brother's death. He became hard to cover with for the remainder of his life. His aged and more than conservative blood brother Harry and he fought constantly over money and Jack's womanizing ways. One time Harry chased Jack through the studio with a two by four baleful to kill him. The feud became so acrimonious that Jack opted to play lawn tennis rather than go to Harry's funeral in 1958. One time Jack met Prince Albert Einstein," Mr. Einstein, I have got my ain theory of relativity. Don't engage them."

Warner was fascinated by Albert Einstein especially the physicists elaborate verbal descriptions of stars. After he left Jack told a staff member," Sign this Alpha Orionis cat to a contract. Albert Einstein believe he have potential."

Despite or maybe because of his aborted vocalizing career, Jack Charles Dudley Warner seemed to resent similar aspirations in others. One twenty-four hours her was strolling through the studio batch when he heard a immature adult male vocalizing with a beautiful voice. It was coming from the security guard shack. Curious, the Mogul walked up to inquiry his startled employee.

"Young man, was that you singing?" "W-why yes Mr. Warner." "Young adult male you have got a beautiful voice." "Oh give thanks you Mr. Warner." "MM. State me, immature man, what would you rather be? A security guard or a singer?" "Oh Mr. Warner, I dreamed of being a singer." "Ok immature man. You're fired!"

Jack Charles Dudley Warner treated all of his employees with derision, but none worse than the writers. Many of them although better paid at the studio than they ever were writing novels, resented the nine to five modus operandi they were forced to accede to at the Warner's factory. Where the histrions were free to go forth the studio at luncheon the authors had to be "chained" to their typewriter. One time Charles Dudley Warner called a author into the studio showing room for his suggestions on how to repair a weak script." I'm sorry Mr. Warner. I have got no thoughts after five."

Another time Jack called in a author to his office. "Look pally, I got to open fire you because I heard you were a communist. " "Mr. Warner, please! I'm not a communist, I'm an anti-communist!" "I don't care what sort of communist you are! You are out of here!"

Well after The Wind Singer's success, Jack remained sensitive to spiritual matters. When he hired a phase histrion named Jules Garfield, he told him, "Ok, we have got to change your name. How about Jesse James Garfield?" "Mr. Charles Dudley Warner Iodine don't desire to change my name. Anyhow Jesse James James Garfield was a President. Why don't you change my name to Abraham Lincoln?" "Forget it Garfield. Abraham's too Jewish. We're not going to give the incorrect impression." After much arguing they compromised with Toilet Garfield.

Warner's histrions gave as well as they got. Humphrey Humphrey Bogart called him a creep. Errol Flynn actually threatened to kill him. Jesse James Cagney, after drive down the route and seeing Pat O'Brian's name billed above his on a film pavilion sued him for breach of contract and won. Betty Davis, constantly complaining about the movies she was project in, fled to England to execute on the phase only to have got Charles Dudley Warner path her down and legally oblige her to return. But perhaps the toughest of all his conflicts was with histrion Saint George Raft. Raft, who hung out with mobsters like Bugsy Siegel in existent life, was loth to be cast of characters as a hood on the screen. He turned virtually every function he was offered. Finally, Jack decided to purchase Saint George out of his contract. "Will $10,000 make it?" He asked Saint George wearily. To Jack's astonishment, Saint George pulled out his ain checkbook, promptly paid his foreman $10,000 and stormed out of the office!

Hollywood was an attractive place for the early film makers to settle, full of good weather, orange and lemon trees. For manufacturers who owed money on borrowed photographic camera equipment if a creditor came after them, they could conceal among the trees. It was a difficult concern full of causalities and took a pirate's outlook to survive. Most of the studio caputs were from mediocre backgrounds, with limited English accomplishments and never forgot their childhood or a personal slight. Included were Jack, Harry, Prince Albert and Sam, the four Charles Dudley Warner Brothers from Youngstown, Ohio. They had begun with showing movies off the side of a collapsible shelter in Youngstown, borrowing all the chairs from the local undertaker. Every time there was a funeral in Youngstown, they had to give all the chairs back and the movie frequenters were forced to stand.

As a male child Jack Charles Dudley Warner wished to be a vocalist and a comedian. His brothers, recognizing his deficiency of endowment instructed him to sing in the collapsible shelter when they wanted the audience to leave. He was later advised that the money was not in performing, it was in paying performers. Among the stars that would be under contract to him would be Betty Davis, Jesse James Cagney, Humphrey Humphrey Bogart and Errol Flynn.

The soundless years were a battle for Charles Dudley Warner Bros. Rin Tin Tin, a German shepherd that according to his promotion was born in a fox hole in World War I, was their greatest star. Epic as he might have got been on the screen, he proved to be, like many stars, cantankerous in person. Jack Charles Dudley Warner took the domestic dog on a promotion tour. As he introduced him to the crowd, his ungrateful employee spot him on the behind, leading to the dog's dismissal. It proved to be a preliminary to Warner's many hereafter conflicts with stars.

Trying to do a name for themselves, the four blood brothers got great promotion by announcing that the renowned opera tenor voice Enrico Caruso would be arriving from Italian Republic to do a movie for them. They paid him 25,000 dollars and then set him in a soundless movie.

The film studios had the engineering to do talking movies old age before they made them. One of the grounds why they resisted the thought was that they didn't desire to put on the line losing their abroad market. Stars like Charlie Chaplin, Douglas Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and Virgin Mary Mary Pickford rarely ever had a floating-point operation as their movies were shown around the world and knew no linguistic communication barriers. But in 1926 the soundless movies faced their greatest competition with a new device called the radio. As film attending dwindled the studio caputs close their eyes and pretended the radiocommunication was not there. But the Warners take by the ambitious Sam, decided to force the envelope and seek to salvage their sinking studio by experimenting with film sound.

Sam purchased an experimental sound system called Vita-phone. They then acquired the rights to The Wind Singer, a popular play about a immature adult male who had a beautiful voice and is offered a Great White Way calling against the wishings of his Old World Jewish father. In the play the boy gave in to his male parent but the Warner's, wishing to attain a wider audience, Americanized the story by having the boy follow his ain dreams. Star Aluminum Al Jolson adlibbed the dialogue," Wait a minute, delay a minute you ain't heard nothing, yet!" The Warner's were only intending vocalizing but at the last minute they impulsively kept the line in the film. The Wind Singer received a standing standing ovation when it premiered in New House Of York in 1927 and went on to do three and one-half million dollars at a time when admittance costs 20 cents. The sound revolution was under way!

Movie audiences had often been loud and noisy while watching soundless films. Now the theater's got quiet as people strained to hear every word. Movie Theater's had to be rewired for sound, costing major studios like Paramount and Fox billions of dollars. Movies now had to movie mostly at nighttime as any passing play motortruck noise could destroy a sound recording. " How boring!" said Virgin Mary Pickford. "At first we moved! Now everyone is standing around talking!" One enterprising histrion was hired for one day's work. When the manager wasn't looking he allow a clump of crickets loose on the set. It was five years before the crew could round up the chirping crickets, and the histrion kept on hold received five times the paycheck.