Tales of Rock – Almost Happened – Paul McCartney, Jimi Hendrix & Miles Davis

There are supergroups and then there are could-actually-rule-the-galaxy-groups. In 1969, three of the greatest musicians who have ever wandered the earth were poised to come together and make mythical music. But cruel fate would stop them from actually reaching groovy critical mass, taking the form of an overly long vacation in Scotland.

In 1969, Miles Davis (the legendary jazz musician) and Jimi Hendrix (the legendary Jimi Hendrix) had plans to record an album together. For over a year, Davis and Hendrix had been jamming together in an apartment before getting serious about forming a group.

They already had a drummer in jazz genius (and Davis’ bandmate) Tony Williams, so all they needed was a bassist. Hendrix proposed asking Paul McCartney to join them — because if you’re Jimi Hendrix, you have the power to snap your fingers and summon a Beatle like he’s a genie in a submarine-shaped bottle.

In order to get McCartney on board, the trio sent out a telegram asking Paul if he might be gracious enough to put in an appearance in the recording studio.

Hendrix and Davis received a swift answer from The Beatles’ personal assistant regretfully informing the duo that Paul was on vacation in Scotland. And that was it. They never heard from McCartney or anyone in his camp after that. Though Hendrix and Davis were still serious about logging some studio time, the project hit a lull after McCartney’s snub. Hendrix died not soon after in September of 1970, forever robbing the world of a bunch of awkward looks between him and McCartney as the latter tried to pretend he never got his message at some red carpet event.


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The Evolution of Dating — Back in Stilettos Again

This has been my experience with the evolution of dating. Dating Before the Internet (late 80s to mid 90s) It’s hard to remember such a time, honestly. Life seemed simpler. Back then, people seemed to be more open to meeting new people… or maybe it was simply just my stage in life. I was in […]

via The Evolution of Dating — Back in Stilettos Again

Church – 2012 to Present – Angel’s Envy – Part 2

“Did you touch them?”
“You’re killing us, Liam!”

Church and I step out into the warm afternoon sun. We sadly run into this little troll from the Trestle Inn that loves us both. She literally looks like she has troll or hobbit in her family. She’s awful. We hug her and it’s absolute torture for me and my comrade, but we have to be nice.
Church brings the car around and Liam and I get in. Church is doing his usual rage driving and Liam starts talking.
There is a hip crazy waitress that works at Sofitel. We all love her. She’s a tall brown-haired beauty. She has damage, but who cares, she’s pretty. Church is cranking Ozzy in the car and we’re all feeling good.
Liam goes on to tell us that he’s been to this waitress’ house to drink and she always breaks her tits out. We love and admire this lovely woman and can’t imagine her doing this.
When you go to a bar and love and respect the staff, and you suddenly hear something like this, it’s like seeing nudity in People magazine on the counter at Rite aid. When you hear about your friend and server breaking her tits out with her co workers at a party it creates all sorts of new thoughts in your mind..
We’re driving Liam to work and Church and my brains are exploding because all we can think about how his co workers tits swinging free and somehow we are there. We really like her and find it hard to believe she does shit like that. But the more we think about her and her past, we sort of pull it together.
“Did you touch them?”
“You’re killing us, Liam!”
We drop off Liam at Sofitel. Church and I are laughing as he searches for a parking spot. He’s the king of finding spots in the city. I don’t know anyone that can always manage to find a great space, usually right near wherever we want to hang out.
Church decides we’re going to crash the Angel’s Envy cocktail party at Dandelion. I’m already buzzed, so I’m down for anything. We walk in and tell the hostesses we’re with the Angel’s Envy party. Without even asking who we are or if we’re on the list they tell us to head upstairs.
Upstairs at Dandelion is nice. London’s culinary revolution cames to Philadelphia with this unique gastropub. Cozy rooms and intimate bars create a storied, Old World aura, while updated seasonal takes on British food make up the menu.
The event is being held in what’s referred to as “The Dog Room.” The whole room and bar is all done up with everything canine. Pictures of dogs, and little figurines on the shelves. Even the brass rail that surrounds the front of the bar is held in place by a row of brass bulldog heads chomping down on the rail. I always said they should hide one cat in there somewhere, and if you can find it among the dozens of dogs in there, maybe you get a free drink.
Now this is a party. The owner of the brand is there, and everybody is plowing delicious food and sipping bourbon cocktails. Church is chatting with his buddy the local rep for PA.  I take a bite out of a delicious slider and take a photo of it in my hand. I send the pic to Prova and tell her she’s missing free food and drinks. I tell her to grab an UBER and get down here.
The owner of Angel’s Envy makes a little speech, and they pour shots of the bourbon for everyone to do a toast. Church is on the wagon, and his buddy is working, so they literally pour their shots into my glass. So when we do the toast I pound down 3 shots of bourbon in one gulp.
I run into a few people I know in the industry and chat with some attractive ladies that are also present. So since 3pm this afternoon we’ve been having a wonderful day.
So after the happy hour/party we head over to Sofitel for some quiet frivolity. The bartender that went with us to Karma earlier is there with Liam. He talks shit on Prova saying she had “an agenda” to take us to Karma. Like she had ulterior motives. I don’t like how this clown was invited to a free bourbon tasting. Ate the food, drank the cocktails, and then disappears from Karma and doesn’t even finish his drink. He just scampers off to work. Then talks smack on one of my dear friends.
But all is forgiven because I can’t control the hearts and minds of others and I’m friends with Prova, not him. I hang out with her, I drink at the bar where he works and we really come to see Liam and some of the girls that host and serve there.
(But Prova has already texted me back and says she is on her way down.)
But he tells an interesting story. He said when he was younger he was riding in the car with his family. They were in the car on their way to New York. His dad has Philly’s local rock station on. The song Iron Man by Black Sabbath came on the radio. He had never heard it before and he instantly loved it. He asks his father who sings that song. His pop says some guy named, Ozzy.
So one day when he’s 12 years old, they stop in a music store. He can’t find the song on any of Ozzy’s records. He ends up walking up to this old hippie, and asks him about the song. The hippie takes him to the section where Black Sabbath’s CD’s are located. He pulls out the album entitled Paranoid and hands it to him.
He had some birthday money from his grandparents so he bought the album and has loved Sabbath ever since.
I really liked that little story. You’ve been redeemed!
Prova shows up half in the bag. On Church’s orders he tells her to get some food. I’m happy we’re all together. Good hospitality and good people make for a lovely day!
I go out for a smoke. I run into my favorite homeless guy outside. He always tells me a joke, so I give him a dollar or two to get him something to eat.
I tell him I may start to write for One Step Away, the homeless publication here in Philly. I’m feeling drunk and get a little misty about it. He senses it and moves on to get his hamburger at McDonald’s. I watch him shuffle off down the street and around the corner. I stub out my cigarette, and walk back into the warmth of the beautiful hotel Sofitel. My friends are there and so is a crisp glass of chardonnay and free bar snacks.
My thoughts return to my homeless guy. But I smile and chat with Prova and the gang and take a sip of wine.

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Church – 2012 to Present – Angel’s Envy – Part 1

 I woke up this morning and I knew this would be a fantastic day. Do you ever feel like that? You just know that this day out of all of the others in the week will be the best day.
I start my day with a delicious bacon, egg and cheese on a toasted bagel at Manhattan Bagels at 18th and Sansom. I then went to the Dollar Store to pick up toilet paper for the salon. When I get there I chat with Achilles and drop off the rolls because I know he didn’t think of it and we were down to a single spool.
“What’s that burnt smell?
“The standup unit in #4 is arcing sparks, and I took it apart so it wouldn’t catch fire.”
“Yea. I don’t want any ‘Final Destination’ scenes happening in our salon.”
Sugar Baby hot Sandy comes in with her equally hot sister-in-law and her little daughter. (See: Sun Stories – Sugar (Grand) Baby). She overhears us talking about it and she’s afraid to tan now because she thinks she’s going to get locked in a stand up unit and burned to death. Even if there were a fire, you could simply open the door and walk out of the booth anytime. None of the beds lock closed. There is no mechanism on the bed for that to happen. Only on the horizontal lie down beds. The only way to lock the hood is to lock it in the open position to run maintenance on the unit. No Final Destination.
I head down to Old City to the Red Owl Tavern. It’s on the ground floor of the Hotel Monaco at 5th and Chestnut. It a good space with great food. The owner of Angel’s Envy Bourbon is there and a group of people my buddy Church invited. I later spoke with one of the guests and he said that if Church hadn’t invited everybody no one would have known about it and he had invited the right amount of folks.
Liam and his fellow bartender show up from Sofitel. My friend Prova rolls in and sits to my left. Raven hair, electric smile and those dimples. (See: Prova – 2015 to Present – Glow of the Sun) She’s like a rose among thorns.
The lecture is great and informative. I love these tastings. They’re serving Manhattans, Old Fashioneds, and a few other select cocktails. The food is delish, and everyone is having a social time. All of these people are industry people, and I’m the only one who is not. But it always feels like I have such enthusiasm for these brands. I gave a bottle of Angel’s Envy to my brother-in-law two Christmases ago. (He loved it)
The big question I asked was about the name of the brand. I told him that I know when they age the liquor in the barrels that there is a small amount that simply vanishes. They call it the “Angel’s Share.” (There is also a film by the same name and I recommend it!) The distillers assume the angels take their share of the liquor first and that’s why it disappears.  I ask where he came up with their name. I always love to know the origins of things.
The owner says he thought of calling it the Angel’s Share. But then he had a great idea. Sure, the angels are going to always take their share, but why don’t I make a bourbon so good that the angels are envious that they can’t have the rest of the barrel!
Genius, right?
The afternoon is wonderful, but they say they have to cut it a little short because they have another “invite only” event they have to attend back in Rittenhouse at The Dandelion at 18th and Sansom.
Church is long time buddies with the area rep who is there and pulls out his invite. I’m thinking, fuck yea, we’re going to that event too!
“Did you go to the website and confirm the invitation?” his friend says.
“Sorry, dude. Limited space, you had to confirm.”
“Dude… I don’t think your friend is kidding.” I chirp.
“It’s cool. This has been great.” Church replies.
I knew we’d just end up going to Sofitel for a bit tonight anyway, but it would have been nice to go to the posh event later.
They give everybody a nice little gift bag for coming to the tasting. Cutting board, a little pairing knife and a little bottle of Angel’s Envy. I’m happy and feeling good after all of that free food and cocktails.
It’s around 4pm and a bit early, but the gang is tuned up. It’s nice to be walking down the street after an event with people I normally only see behind the bar. Church has to go feed the meter, and Prova wants to stop somewhere for a beer. I drop off my gift bag in Church’s trunk and then we walk up to the restaurant Karma on Prova’s suggestion. Liam and his buddy follow her and Church and I arrive a few minutes later. I’ve never been to this bar/restaurant but it looks cool. It’s an Indian spot and the owner gives Liam and I the tour. The place is really beautifully appointed. I bet it really swings on the weekends.
But being in this place brings me back to a story that I once heard. There used to be a nightclub in that space several years ago. It went out of business and they left the place a mess. I was working for a start-up in old city a few years ago and we had an exterminator that would come through every month just to do a maintenance spray around our building. I love talking to people about their jobs so I asked him if he had any good scary extermination stories.
He said there was a nightclub that closed down a few years ago, and they left a bunch of trash in the cellar. It was the building where lovely Karma now stands.
“Roaches?” I quip.
“Crazy mice problem?”
If you have a rat problem you no longer have a roach or mice problem. The rats see to that but now you have a bigger problem. Apparently if there’s enough food and no predators the rats get larger.
“Were they big?”
“As big as cats.” he says.
When I lived in New York I’d seen tons of rats but thankfully none as big as cats.
“So they were like Crats, not rats,” I laugh.
The exterminator cracks up. “Crats! I’m gonna use that one!”
The Crats are long gone and that was many years ago. I’m sure the place is top-notch and up to code now.
So me, Prova, Church, Liam, and his coworker are all sitting at the bar. I know Liam and his buddy have to get to work by 6pm but these guys are hardcore and they can handle themselves. Well at least Liam is. His buddy buys a beer, doesn’t drink it, throws down a five and then disappears. But apparently he just does things like that sometimes. So that’s why I’m not giving him a name in this story because he technically doesn’t exist in our little club.
I’m sipping Jim Beam on the rocks just to stay consistent with my bourbon soaked afternoon. It’s quite a step down, but after the good stuff you can always drink cheap shit because you really can’t tell the difference by then.
I step outside for a smoke. I love to smoke a cig when I drink. I think those cigs taste the best. The cig and coffee is another good one. Okay, one more. The cig after a good meal. I don’t do the cig after sex. I have so little sex now if I only smoked after sex, I’d have quit months ago!
So I’m puffing tough and taking in the afternoon and the warmth of my buzz. I’m standing there enjoying the day and my smoke and I see a guy in a wheelchair with no legs. He’s right next to me on the other side of the door to Karma. I feel his pain. He is just staring into space. Looking across the street at nothing. There’s a new CVS over there, (Old city desperately needed one) but I don’t think that’s his directive.
Old City is alive with tourists and people but I still feeling for my guy.
His gaze is fixed on a distant nothing across the street. He’s not asking for money so I’m just chilling.
But then this girl walks by in a short skirt. Lovely legs. I’m a leg man so I have to check it out. This is a daily occurrence for me in the city. I love seeing all of the lovely gams in the city. My head was spinning like an owl when I was living in New York years ago.
The legless wheelchair guy suddenly comes to life and turns his head and looks at the pretty legs driving the lovely lady down the street. He looks at her just like I do. She has broken his paralysis.
Then I think in my drunken mind…
Is he admiring her for the beauty of her shapely legs like me or is he missing when he had legs to walk down the street? Which is it? I think he’s just checking out her fine landing gear. Yea… That’s it. He’s disabled but still appreciates a well turned ankle.
I wrestle with this for a moment and realize I am just half in the bag and go back inside.
The clock is ticking to get Liam to Sofitel.
We have to go and Prova tells me she’s had enough and doesn’t want to go Sofitel. “I can’t do brown liquor anymore”, she says.
I make the huge mistake and tell my friend, “It’s okay we don’t need you there.”
People… this goes back to when Carol asked me if I thought she was fat.
Somehow it’s on that level and baby is really upset. I love Prova and didn’t mean anything by it but I really wanted her to come with us. She took it to heart and was mad at me for telling her we didn’t need her there.
So one of the most beloved friends in my life is now mad at me over a verbal infraction. But girls are that way right?  I can slip and down I go. But I figure it won’t stick.
Liam is coming with me and Church. We’re dropping him off at work. Prova says she’s staying to chill at the bar and she’ll text me if she s coming out later. I tell her that means: she’s never coming out again tonight.
So we leave her behind.
 I get it.
Tune in Tomorrow for the exciting conclusion!

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Annabelle Lee – 2013 to 2014 – Chapter 13 – Don Juan Comes Home From Iraq

I made the date with Annabelle for dinner and a show. We had been together 9 months. We met at the restaurant La Viola West. They have the original one on the East side of 16th street. It’s the same menu as across the street but it’s so beloved apparently they need two restaurants to accommodate their fans. It’s a great place to grab a great Italian dinner before a show on Broad street.

That’s why we were there because I had free tickets to a show that night that she wanted to see. Dinner was lovely. I reiterated how I have been really putting my time in with her. I had spent 4 overnights with her at her house and was really trying to put in time into our relationship. I remember saying all of this to her and I almost felt like I was selling myself to her as to how hard I was working on the relationship to make it work. No one should ever have to do this. Love is automatic. You should never have to sell your commitment. This relationship had been dead for months.

She was eating and I suppose she was hearing my words. I was saying how I have been putting my time in at her place and spending time with her. Should a partner have to do this? I don’t know, but I did it. I feel like I was telling her how everything was going well. But it still felt like a sales pitch, but that’s just me trying to connect with her and show her the value of the relationship and how I am committed to it.

But it’s over.

After dinner we walked over to the theater. I had the free tickets and in we went. I always had the hookup. I didn’t know what the play was about but she wanted to see everything I could provide. Coincidentally, my employer was doing a beer tasting in the lobby of the theater that night. So it was good to know he was out there doing his thing and serving the guests.

It was the Wilma theater and both me and Annabelle had a relationship with them.

The show started and we were comfortable in our seats. The show was a piece of shit. How do they get this garbage made? It was a sea of mediocrity that mired the performances of the actors. The players were on point but the material was trash.

I love art. I love art of any kind. Anything that makes you feel something is usually good art. Pain, sadness, joy, redemption, anger is all good. That’s what art does. It makes you feel something. It shouldn’t be frustration, aggravation, boredom, and disappointment. I already had a girlfriend for all of these things.

The show sucked Royal Canadian moose cock and we were both hating it. But then the unbelievable happened.

A woman in the first row had a heart attack. I kid you not. They stopped the show, and the actors actually froze onstage staying in character as someone called 911. (How gay is that?)

Sadly, the show was so bad both me and Annabelle felt nothing for the victim, but instead realized that this horrible incident was only going to prolong this shitty performance. How selfish is that? It’s awful. But if you’ve been reading this blog, you’ll know that your hero shouldn’t have to go through this.

I remember the paramedics coming into the theater and carting the poor woman out. Think of the shame we felt about how we were behaving. “Oh great. Someone had to almost die and now this shitty show will be even longer than we thought it would be.”

That’s awful behavior but I swear we both thought that when this happened to fuck up our night. This kind of callous, repugnant behavior could only happen to me and my ex Michelle during our most reckless of times. (See: Michelle – 2007 to Present – A Brand New Day) But we were dying worse than the woman on the gurney because we would have to sit through this turd longer than we thought we had to.

I remember discussing this incident with my boss at the time and he said. “Yea, I know you go to a lot of crazy shows with her, but what kind of shit is this where an ambulance actually pulls up in front of the Wilma Theater and hauls some woman out of the place on a stretcher through my beer tasting.”

That is some mad performance art.

But that really happened. I feel sorry for the poor woman who fell because of her heart failing but it taught me something about us as Americans and the selfishness of our culture. She fucked up an already shitty night because she almost died. (maybe she did die, I don’t know)

I remember Annabelle saying: ” Fuck. Now this shitty play is going to be even longer.”

That turned something in me.

The show resumed and it played out and ended. It sucked. Never see it. It blows. I feel sorry for the people who financed it  because I could have written something… anything better than that mess. Even me and Church sitting on the stage playing poker with Prova and Carly would have been more captivating.

The show ends and we are simply relieved.

She gets her bicycle. I was surprised she rode down from Northern Liberties on her bike that night.  She did that quite often. I always looked at that as a sign of poverty. Plus she never wore a helmet. It just seemed too dangerous in this city.

I remember us walking back to my apartment. She was walking her cycle. Things seemed fine even though we were ragging on the show and how awful it was.

She locked her ride and we went upstairs. I sat in my chair and she sat on the couch. This is the room where we celebrated christmas together. The room where I first kissed her sweet lips and held her close. The room I texted her and felt the euphoria of falling in love with her and making future dates.

The room where she safely fell asleep in my arms for the first time.

The room where we sat in front of my fireplace and watched Jurassic park.

The room where we had candlelit dinners I lovingly cooked for my queen.

The room where she would work on her computer and I would do the same, waiting for her.

The room that was the gateway to the bedroom where I would make love to her for the first time and for countless times thereafter.

“Listen… I’m closer in age to your daughter Lorelei than I am to you.”


“I’m 10 years older than Lorelei and 25 years younger than you.”


“I may want to have kids someday, and I know you have Lorelei and you don’t want to go through that again and someday I may want that, so I think we should end this here.”

“Are you breaking up with me?’


“Is there someone else?”


“Okay… Are you sure about this?


“So you’re dumping me?”


I wasn’t really surprised. My last two girlfriends dumped me for the “Someday I might want kids” reason.

I walked her outside to her bicycle locked to the pole.

She started to cry. I felt nothing. I was numb and in that moment I was worn out from the 9 month ride of being addicted to the idea of love with a young girl that had no idea who she was, where she was going, or what she wanted. I was relieved. Annabelle was a handful. A pain in the ass. Too young for me and I had no remorse.

“You don’t seem upset.”

“No one has cancer. No one is dying. You’ve decided to end it here and there is nothing I can do about it. I wish you well, Annabelle.”

“I feel nothing but apathy at this point in our relationship. I have done the best I can, but if that’s what you want so be it.”

At that moment I was worn out trying to be this scatterbrained, confused girl’s boyfriend. The whole things was just an affair. It was a confused girl for the first time being in love with a man who treated her like a lady and she didn’t know anything about that.

She didn’t even know what she was doing in that moment. It was probably some advice from one of her crazy theater friends that haven’t a clue about the real world or relationships.

But truth be told. I was sick and tired of Annabelle.

I was worn out. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired of being in a relationship with her.

I remember telling her early on in our relationship that I thought she was such a nice person. She told me, “No I’m not. I’m not a good person.”

I found that hard to believe lost in the euphoria of new love, but I appreciate her honesty then. Because she was at least honest with me. Annabelle is a good person. She just has no idea who she is, what she wants, or where she’s going.

She sniffed and got on her bike and rode away.

Any hope I had at that moment of having any real and sustainable love in my life had been smashed to pieces against the night.

But the nightmare of Annabelle wasn’t over.


It was just beginning.




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And not all “free” dating sites are actually free!!! — Sensuality, Sex & Something else


Day four of Jet lag and day two of spending endless hours in front of the computer signing up for a plethora of online dating websites, only to find that after going through all of their registration crap you eventually get to a point where you have to pay money before you can access anyone who could […]

via And not all “free” dating sites are actually free!!! — Sensuality, Sex & Something else


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Tales of Rock – Pink Floyd Unleashed A Giant Inflatable Pig On London

“They commissioned a gigantic helium-filled pig and strapped it to London’s Battersea Power Station, because nothing drums up publicity for a progressive rock record like a giant inflatable pig.”

In 1977, Pink Floyd were under tremendous pressure to ensure that Animals — their long-awaited 10th album — was a commercial success. The answer was simple: They commissioned a gigantic helium-filled pig and strapped it to London’s Battersea Power Station, because nothing drums up publicity for a progressive rock record like a giant inflatable pig.

However, in a turn of events that would provide yet another footnote to the adage “props are a musician’s worst enemy,” the 40-foot-long pig — nicknamed “Algie” — broke free from its moorings and escaped to sow (pun intended) a rampage of confusion and mild public endangerment. After it floated above London’s Heathrow Airport, authorities were forced to ground every single flight to avoid any sudden collisions with an enormous pig-shaped balloon. At this point, the Royal Air Force had to be deployed to try to bring down the errant porcine.

The balloon eventually crashed in a field in Kent, where it scared the shit out of some cows. Oddly enough, Pink Floyd had anticipated that Algie might break free of his moorings and had actually hired a sharpshooter to watch over the giant pig and take it out in case it escaped. Fortunately for history, the sharpshooter didn’t show up, leading to the incident that we’re amazed nobody called “The Great Pig In The Sky.”


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