• In honor of the First Lady of Jazz’s 100th birthday…

  • Space Age Greetings, President Trump:

    I am reaching outwards to you from outer space, the other side of nowhere.  (It is a place we both call home).    

    I come bringing harmony in the face of the planet’s doom, which I predicted long ago, when I lived on Earth.

     

     

  • When Billie Holiday and jazz greats appeared on CBS Televisionn…a moment indelibly etched in the minds of those who honor this great woman and those who accompanied her on this date.

  • But by making this song the focus, “people…overlooked what the hell the whole album said.  We didn’t just do one tune and let it stand, we did albums and ideas, and all of those ideas were significant to us at the time we were working on them.”

  • Ella is 100
  • A Letter to President Trump, from Sun Ra
  • A Moment in Time: Studio 58, New York, December 8, 1957
  • Beyond "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised"
Literature » Short Fiction

“At Del Rey Rooms” — a short story by Tim J. Myers

            Years later he became a professor, a scholar—wrote a well-received book on epistemology.  But back then he was just a guy in love.

            They’d taken a cheap room in Venice for the summer, a run-down place a couple of blocks from Dockweiler Beach.  You could always smell the sea, its powerful mix of salt freshness and rot.  He’d never lived with a woman before; she’d had other boyfriends.  She was from back-county San Diego, told him she’d come to L.A. looking for a real life.  He’d just graduated from

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Quiz Show » Jazz History Quiz

Jazz History Quiz #96

As a child, this vocalist — most famous as the “canary female” in the pioneering ensemble that revolutionized vocal music with the 1957 album Sing a Song of Basie — had an acting role in the Our Gang series.  Who is she?

 

June Christie

Chris Conner

Annie Ross

Julie London

Helen Morgan

Martha Raye

Jo Stafford

Go to the next page for the answer!

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Literature » Short Fiction

Short Fiction Contest-winning story #44 — “Da Capo al Fine” by J. Lee Strickland

     I wake up when the door opens. Instant-awake, alert. I’m staring at the ceiling, at the ornate medallion in its center. Late-night city glow from the windows casts awkward shadows on the plaster. The light clicks on, and I hear a gasp. I feel a sympathetic shot of adrenaline hit my chest. I look toward the door, and there’s a woman there, a stranger. A beauty, too, dressed in a black pants-suit, purse slung over a shoulder, the jacket cut and fitted to her slim waist matador-style. Beneath the jacket, she’s wearing a white blouse with an enormous collar that flares out over her shoulders and breast, like gull wings. Her hair is loose, brown, shoulder-length, streaked with bits of blonde, her face around her dark eyes a mix of fear and puzzlement.

     “Who are you?” she says, her hand still on the light switch. “What are you doing here?” Her voice quivers.

     I look around. The ceiling looks like my

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