Well, dear readers, I am sitting here like so much fish, having had an amazing massage last evening, my first in six or seven years. To say I needed that would be a gross understatement, or, at the very least, an understatement of gross. The masseuse is someone I’ve known since she was a little girl, the youngest child of my very first girlfriend’s three children. In the mid to late 1980s, my ex-girlfriend found me, we reconnected, and she and the kids would come over all the time for dinner – I was like a surrogate daddy to them, since my ex had divorced her husband. We always had the best times, and I’d go over there at Christmas and bring gifts and they would always come to the Gardenia when I played my act there. When my ex passed away in 1999 at way too early an age, I hadn’t really seen them in a while, mostly due to my crazy schedule of doing nineteen albums a year.
After that, I still didn’t see them for quite some time, but in the mid-2000s we all got together for lunch and that was fun. And I haven’t really seen them since, although the oldest daughter sends me photos of her family at Christmas and I’ve gotten occasional e-mails. The youngest, Anitra, was at the Richard Sherman event and she told me she’d become a masseuse and I said I need that desperately. And last night was the night. Anitra does what I think she calls deep tissue massage. When I hear deep tissue I think of deep Kleenex, but it means she really digs in. And dig in she did, for ninety blessed mintues. I don’t know where she got the strength, but when it was done my muscles were so relaxed, especially my neck – I put my hands on either side of my neck and squeezed and the crack that came was one of the greatest things ever. I actually felt lighter than air, not that I know how light air actually feels because air has been silent on the subject.
After she left, I could only sit on my couch like so much fish, and so I watched a new documentary on Elaine Stritch on Netflix. It was quite good – funny, occasionally painful to watch, but Miss Stritch is such a spirit that even in the most difficult times she just somehow shines through. I worked with her only once, but it was a memorable experience. When I approached her about Drat! The Cat! and told her that we paid AFTRA scale to everyone on our recordings, whether Lauren Bacall or Dorothy Loudon or whoever. She asked how much that was, and when I told her she just bellowed that Stritch howl and said, “I can’t leave my apartment for less than five hundred dollars.” I said we’d pay her scale and give her a stipend and have a car to get her to the studio and she agreed. Todd Ellison and I went to the Carlyle to rehearse with her. She had all kinds of notions, some good, some not so good, and some of which I think was a test for me. I encouraged her on the good suggestions, then told her why a few of the others wouldn’t work on a recording or for the character she’d be singing. She listened, got that Stritch gleam in her eye, and said, “You’re a director, aren’t you? Good.”
In the studio she was classic Stritch – having fun, complaining about having to sing to a track, and just being her incorrigible self. I really loved the experience and in the end I think she had a good time. I recommend the documentary highly.
Prior to all that, I got almost eight hours of sleep, then got up, answered a plethora of e-mails, did my morning ablutions, and then went and had some lunch, which consisted of a meatless Cobb salad with 1000-Island dressing and a toasted sesame bagel, which was a little TOO toasted for my taste. Then I came home and had a brief but fun work session with John Boswell for the Kritzerland show. I then spent three hours doing an edit road map for an upcoming project – a delightfully delightful world premiere release of a film score by a favorite composer of mine. So, that was fun – listening, figuring out how to combine quite a few short tracks, and getting the road map to the mastering guy. There’s a companion score with it, but that one’s been out before on LP and an import CD, but it’s fun to be able to include it, and I may just rearrange the track order to better approximate the music as it appears in the film. We shall see.
After that, I had a few telephonic conversations, had a couple of really stupid e-mail volleys and then Anitra arrived with table and the deep Kleenex massage began.
Today, I shall write liner notes, I shall eat very lightly, I shall hopefully pick up some packages, and I shall relax.
The rest of the week is more of the same – writing, some meetings and meals, and seeing a show if I can get up the energy to do so.
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, write, eat, hopefully pick up some packages and relax. Today’s topic of discussion: It’s Ask BK Day, the day in which you get to ask me or any dear reader any old question you like and we get to give any old answer we like. So, let’s have loads of lovely questions and loads of lovely answers and loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst I hit the road to dreamland where I shall hopefully sleep wonderfully thanks to a wonderful deep Kleenex massage. For those dear readers to whom it’s never occurred to actually click below and go to our discussion board – give it a try and tell them Bruce-O sent you.