The sun sets slowly
There in the distance you sit
Tears upon a cheek

In what can only be called an amazing feat of etymological skill, Jeffrey has finally finished his personal manifesto, mein kampf. I congratulate him wholeheartedly and remind him that he isn’t wearing any pants. See you at the book signing.

It’s hard watching people’s dreams fall apart. Especially when the wounds are still open.

For those that didn’t catch Dave Winer’s words on the Blogger/Pyra saga before someone pointed out that he was misquoting, and it got deleted –

A fantastic essay by Evan Williams about recent events at Pyra. “It really breaks my heart to see the group of awesome people that I was so damn proud of having assembled break apart, feeling beaten and with dreams unrealized.”

I have so many things to say about this. Evan is telling the story of software entrepreneurship. I was struck yesterday reading the Wired story about ZDNet complaining about Eisner’s comments about the viability of advertising on the Internet. Here’s a great quote from the publisher of ZDNet. “People read that stuff and go to a cocktail party and the next thing you know we’re all out of business.” For whatever reason, every business I have ever been in has been punished that way by the press, including ZDNet and especially its parent, CNET. I know that it’s not productive to be bitter, so I look for a positive spin. Hopefully this is a wakeup call. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. When you write an article about a new industry, try not to leave out the little guy who invented it.

Also try to get the facts right Dave.

I’ve heard the call of Jazz many times in my life as a musician, and never more strongly than recently. But it’s not my musical calling. Partly because it doesn’t wholly consume me. I am not a jazz musician. I can converse in it, but not speak the language implicitly. I would be nothing but a tourist holding up my little translation book, asking the local residents where the restrooms are. And believe me, I would need a restroom after trying to play with some real jazz musicians.

I was asked by Les Paul to come down to Fat Tuesdays, where he was playing at the time, and sit in with him and his band one night. This was a good ten years ago when I was still feeling and acting like a hotshot guitarist. He’d heard me play at a special affair put on by Gibson Guitars. I’d no idea he was there. I was off in a corner by myself, testing out one of the guitars [ed. note—We’re not big Gibson fans around here]. Just riffing and having fun. I suddenly had this eerie feeling and turned around and found Les Paul standing there listening to me. I was in shock. What was even worse was that the crowd surrounding him had followed him over to see what he was so interested in. He said he enjoyed my playing and wanted to know if I would come down to the club and sit in one night. I hesitantly said, “Umm, sure.”

It has been a highlight in my life, and also a huge mistake. I spent the interim doing nothing but trying to change the way I played so that I might fit in with what Les and his audience might expect. It was dumb I know, but I couldn’t help it. I’ve since learned that trying to change what I do to fit a situation is the worse thing I can do. I might as well put on a collar, and some handcuffs and try to play. The set went off ok, and I had fun, but it was by no means me playing. It was the me I thought it should be. I no longer try to conciously change what I do. I simply do it. And if it works, fantastic. I still have to learn to let it go when it’s a train wreck though.