Another sleepless night, but I’m going in late today because of an appointment. I like the occasional extended at-home time. I’ve read a lot since 3 this morning, before getting some studying done.

Couple nights ago, Joaquin Phoenix performed at a Miami club. Says Entertainment Weekly:

Another chapter in Joaquin Phoenix’s car crash of a rap career and/or prank-ish Andy Kaufman-style art project was written last night. While performing at a Miami Beach club the heavily bearded Walk the Line star became upset at an audience member and jumped off the stage. The ensuing mayhem can be witnessed below. Footage was also, once again, captured by Casey Affleck who has been documenting Phoenix’s unlikely new musical career, leading many to conclude that the whole thing is some sort of elaborate practical joke.”

Gee, ya think? Of course, several videos have been pulled because of “copyright violations.” Riiiight. That’s because Casey boy is going to make a movie about all this nonsense. *yawn* Next…

This is amazing. And awful. Advance through the pictures and watch the expressions on the men’s faces.

Now there are some nasty ways to put an end to one’s own life, I’ll grant you. But I must say that jumping over the railing into Niagara Falls has to rank right up there in my book. Have you ever been there? You can’t imagine the power of that water until you stand at that concrete and steel railing and peer over the edge as the water rushes over the cliff. It’s both mesmerizing and horrifying.

Anyway, imagine watching someone do this right before your eyes. What would you do? I would freak. I’d run around in a circle like Chicken Little. Creepier still, the guy reportedly refused help from rescuers. Very sad when someone’s that despondent.

Finally, a real shame. More and more newspapers are shutting down. I am one of the reasons, I admit it. I read my news only online, even though I subscribe to my local newspaper (the Thriller reads the physical paper; I access it only through its website). But people get lots of news everywhere for free, so of course the local publishers are feeling it bigtime. And I don’t mean just the small-town dailies; the crunch is smashing the big boys, too.

And another facet of Americana hits the skids in the name of progress.

OK, back to work. Happy Friday the 13th. Be careful out there.

FO

Photo credit: Rolf Hicker

Burnout.

For years, it’s been an accepted fact (backed up by research that I’m too lazy to locate right now) that teachers “burn out” at their jobs faster than any other profession. And within that group of people, secondary choir and band directors suffer the fastest and most pervasive attrition. I know a lot of former band and choir directors who are now administrators, or selling insurance, or working for educational tour providers or fund-raising companies.

Some of you can empathize. Others can sympathize. Still others might disagree. For instance, the Thriller worked for the IRS for 12 years. He would tell you that being a manager for a government entity hated by most of the populace is more stressful than just about any other job. He might be right, but still, the research bears out my claim.

I’m all for agreeing that there are jobs with incredibly high stress levels; I just think it’s worth mentioning that teachers — especially those whose work is put out for the general public to evaluate at will — do the high stress with really low pay. Sometimes (not always), that makes a diff.

But as I’m sure you know, most teachers aren’t in it for the money. What a silly statement, actually. Saying you’re in it for the money would be, well, silly. ‘Cuz there ain’t any.

All that said, I know I am fortunate, in that I have a job in this economy. I also have relative job security (insofar as I am tenured, which would likely do diddly in a huge budget avalanche, but…), and as far as I can tell, I’m managing to put out a decent product/result. Or at least not poor enough to get fired. I’ll even go further and say that my situation is excellent. I have supportive bosses, colleagues and parents. I basically want for nothing (well, except a decent performance space).

Another profession that comes to mind when thinking about low pay and high stress is that of social work. If I was cornered, I’d have to admit that social workers have it worse than teachers. I don’t know what their attrition rate is, but many of them don’t make more than the average public school teacher, and the emotional carnage they have to witness every day makes me admire them all the more. Pastors also fight the good fight for not much pay. And while we’re at it, let’s include food service workers and retail employees. How do they support a family?

Still, I can only speak from my own experience. I don’t “leave work at work.” I think that’s a biggy for me. My dad was a cost accountant. He did his job well (and was paid well for it), but at 6 p.m., he left the office and came home and relaxed. I allow my work — and everything associated with it — to follow me home. I know a lot of you do as well, regardless of your career choice.

Somehow, we have to learn to quit doing that, because it makes your brain start up at 2:50 a.m. Then you’re up for the day.

Yippy.

Fink out (to the kitchen to make the coffee).

And good thing, too, because one word simply cannot describe the caper. Here are a few extras that might be used:

• Chutzpah
• Nerve
• Cheek
• Temerity
• Audaciousness
• Downright bold

And don’t forget potentially brilliant (if he hadn’t been caught, that is).

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Folks, we need to get Shorty. El Paso/Juarez hold some fun memories for me, and it’s sad that the area is a war zone now.

I had me some great times in Juarez back in 1979, when I was hired to sing at a club in El Paso called The Cinders, which is now defunct, torn down, or renamed, as far as my research can reveal.

It was a month-long engagement, at the piano bar with a great jazz pianist named Luis Méndez. I’ve lost track of him over the years…

On a couple occasions, Louie would call in two of his friends — bass player and drummer — to play with us. It was great fun. I learned an awful lot about jazz that summer, at only 20 years old. I’ve never forgotten it.

And my students will laugh at these photos because I actually had a real tan (living at the pool every day for a month in 100+-degree heat and sunshine will do that). And check out the curly hair. Yep, I paid good money for that.

And speaking of spending good money…time to get back to writing about the history of public school music in America. ZzzZzzzz…..

Fink out (as in “unconscious”).

I must say, it’s impressive, albeit a bit pretentious. Leave it to the Times.

It’s time for a Bando Godspell update. Bando…grace us, please! I need a laff today.

All right, I’m off to start studying. It’s almost 8 a.m. and I promised myself I’d bury my head in this box all weekend (except if #1 Son calls for me to watch Jakey…then all bets are off).

Shocking. What next? A rapper hitting his girlfriend???

Only four more Saturdays until Kay comes home from Slovenia. Yay!

FO