Encore post: Not a keeper

I swear to God I'm like a broken record. It's been almost a month since I clicked and clacked (that was for you Rich Siegel) my last post, so I decided it was probably time to get going on a new one.

The title of it was going to be Promises Made, Promises Broken. It was going to have a funny intro about how with that title it could be mistaken for an essay about the Republican party - but then of course, there's nothing funny about them.

I got about halfway done with it, when I realize I'd already written this post five years ago about exactly the same subject. Lucky for me, amIrite?

So in a way, I'm keeping one of my promises about posting more often and not keeping my promise at the same time.

Or what I like to call a win-win.

Anyway, not that I've given you any reason to believe me, but I promise more original posts are on the way. Sure my fingers are crossed, but you can just ignore that.

Okay, it's time to read. Please to enjoy.

The first post is about the last year. Ironic ain't it?

So here's the thing. When it comes to the promises I made on our last trip around the sun, I'm a lot like the road to hell—I'm paved with good intentions. Alright, so maybe analogies aren't my metier (look it up), but you see where I'm going.

I made a lot of promises in 2017, some spur of the moment without much thought—you know, the same way I approach my career path (rolling eyes at the word "career")—some to you and even more to myself that despite the best intentions, well, we've already covered that.

For example, this one that would've made your Christmas shopping infinitely easier when it came to stocking stuffers. Or this one, where I vowed to be more disciplined and prolific with my blog postings (stops to laugh hysterically at the thought of being disciplined). But not as prolific as Round Seventeen because, frankly, my Crank-O-Meter doesn't go to eleven. And I'd rather read his posts than write my own.

Besides making gift buying easier and giving you more posts to avoid reading, I also made several promises to myself which I've broken like a fine china vase on a sitcom.

"Whatever you do Joey, don't touch the vase!"

"What, do you think I'm stupid? Of course I'm not gonna touch the vase."

SFX: Vase crashing to pieces on the floor.

Laughter and applause. Freeze frame. Roll credits.

Some are the same promises I've made before like losing weight, changing my style (which would involve actually having one), opening the folder marked Jeff's ideas and following through on some of them, any of them, one of them (yes Cameron Y., that includes the one marked "Screenplay ideas").

Those are the actionable, external promises. There are also the internal efforts that met with mixed success.

Cutting people some slack and realizing everyone's not going to do it my way or on my timetable, although for the love of God I still have no idea why not (only child, does it show?).

Following Elvis Costello's advice about trying to be more amused than disgusted at what's going on around me.

Sticking to the golden rule, no matter how hard someone is making it to do.

Not taking any of it personally, although I have to say I'm actually pretty good at that one.

Got a little heavy on you there didn't I? (Insert diet joke here). Yeah I know, I didn't see it coming either.

Anyway, all of this to say my promise to me and you for 2018 is to do better at keeping promises I make, and not make ones I can't keep.

This year, it's like Jules said in Pulp Fiction: "I'm trying Ringo. I'm trying real hard..."

Not a keeper

The first post is about the last year. Ironic ain't it?

So here's the thing. When it comes to the promises I made on our last trip around the sun, I'm a lot like the road to hell—I'm paved with good intentions. Alright, so maybe analogies aren't my metier (look it up), but you see where I'm going.

I made a lot of promises in 2017, some spur of the moment without much thought—you know, the same way I approach my career path (rolling eyes at the word "career")—some to you and even more to myself that despite the best intentions, well, we've already covered that.

For example, this one that would've made your Christmas shopping infinitely easier when it came to stocking stuffers. Or this one, where I vowed to be more disciplined and prolific with my blog postings (stops to laugh hysterically at the thought of being disciplined). But not as prolific as Round Seventeen because, frankly, my Crank-O-Meter doesn't go to eleven. And I'd rather read his posts than write my own.

Besides making gift buying easier and giving you more posts to avoid reading, I also made several promises to myself which I've broken like a fine china vase on a sitcom.

"Whatever you do Joey, don't touch the vase!"

"What, do you think I'm stupid? Of course I'm not gonna touch the vase."

SFX: Vase crashing to pieces on the floor.

Laughter and applause. Freeze frame. Roll credits.

Some are the same promises I've made before like losing weight, changing my style (which would involve actually having one), opening the folder marked Jeff's ideas and following through on some of them, any of them, one of them (yes Cameron Y., that includes the one marked "Screenplay ideas").

Those are the actionable, external promises. There are also the internal efforts that met with mixed success.

Cutting people some slack and realizing everyone's not going to do it my way or on my timetable, although for the love of God I still have no idea why not (only child, does it show?).

Following Elvis Costello's advice about trying to be more amused than disgusted at what's going on around me.

Sticking to the golden rule, no matter how hard someone is making it to do.

Not taking any of it personally, although I have to say I'm actually pretty good at that one.

Got a little heavy on you there didn't I? (Insert diet joke here). Yeah I know, I didn't see it coming either.

Anyway, all of this to say my promise to me and you for 2018 is to do better at keeping promises I make, and not make ones I can't keep.

This year, it's like Jules said in Pulp Fiction: "I'm trying Ringo. I'm trying real hard..."

His aim is true

There's a special running on cable right now called Elvis Costello: Mystery Dance. As you might expect, it deals with the life and career of the other Elvis.

Like most people, the first time I heard Elvis was on his album, My Aim Is True. Alison was the number one hit, and I loved it. So when Elvis came to the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium, along with Nick Lowe and Link Wray, I was in.

I don't remember much about how the music sounded. What I remember most is that after about a twenty-five minute set, Elvis kicked over one of the giant speakers and stormed offstage. Punk movement. Angry young man. You get the picture.

I've seen Elvis many, many times since. And I'm always in awe of two things: how prolific a songwriter he is, and his endless versatility. From rock, to jazz, to country to classical, Elvis attacks every genre and infuses it with originality and the uniqueness of his sound.

One of the great concerts the wife and I went to was Elvis with the Brodsky Quartet at Royce Hall. We sat sixth row center, right in front of Jackson Browne (maybe if he had some connections he could've gotten better seats). My wife used to play classical violin, and she loves Elvis. So this was the perfect concert for her.

It was perfect for everyone. It was exceptional.

A few years ago, Elvis opened for Sting at the Hollywood Bowl. During that performance, he invited the fifteen-thousand people there to a free midnight show he was doing at the El Rey Theater later that night.

I don't have many regrets, but not showing up at the El Rey at midnight that night is definitely one of them.

Anyway, just a quick post to say I love his music.

And I'm pretty confident he won't be leaving the building anytime soon.