Born out of time

So it's nearly 11, and Ella's singing on the CD player.

It's the Cole Porter disc tonight. I get no kick from champagne, mere alcohol, it doesn't move me at all..

Jenny said while commenting on an earlier blog post that I was born out of my time. It's true. I'm proud of it. Such is life.

My sick gift to myself (LOL) was a splurge on the 16-disc "The Complete Ella Fitzgerald Song Books" box set. This thing is a true piece of beauty.

All the greats are here. Besides Porter, she sings the best of Duke Ellington (complete with Duke and the band playing behind her), the Gershwins, Harold Arlen, Johnny Mercer, a handful of others.

Oooh, here's a good one.

Night and day, you are the one...only you beneath the moon or under the sun...

If Sinatra is the Chairman of the Board, Ella is the torch singer in the little jazz club on the corner. And while I find myself missing the "ring-a-ding-ding" of Frankie's versions, there's something special at work here.

Forget the drivel --- this is pop music. They don't sing like this anymore, y'all.

What! You need proof? How many people are going to be looking nostalgically back toward something like "Oops, I Did It Again" in 30 years?

(Or, as Dudley Moore says in "10," "Why Don't We Do It in the Road? What (expletive) kind of era is that?")

But I digress.

For those of you in Knox Vegas, some kind of storm tonight, huh? I don't think I've ever seen severe lightning like that in years. It was fun to watch in its hauntingly beautiful way.

OK, I'm outta here. Gettin' sleepy. Y'all be safe out there.

Cause I've got you....under my skin...

Had enough (but Ella helps)

I want my life back.

It's the little things you miss.

Not feeling like you want to shoot yourself all the time, for one. Sandra yelling at ya when you linger too long in her office. Ruth and Shannon. Anybody in compo, 'cause they give me a hard time, make me feel loved.

Putting words together. Feeling the high that comes with knowing you've stumbled onto a great story. All that and a hundred other things.

I miss living. Just simply living.

Past two days have been pure hell. I can't describe to you what this feels like if you've never had kidney stones. I hope to God you never know. Sure, you're glad it isn't cancer or something worse. But that doesn't make the pain stop.

The black dog hasn't barked through any of this. But it's beginning to yelp. Guess that happens when you don't feel like getting out of bed for 48 hours.

I'm calling the doctor tomorrow. I've had enough. Gotta get back to work. Gotta end the pain.

It would be nice to enjoy the summer, too. It would be nice to feel like eating a meal without wanting to throw it up.

Took a little solace tonight in music. It, along with writing and baseball, have always been my most effective painkillers.

Found a little gem a few minutes ago. This year would have been Ella Fitzgerald's 90th birthday. PBS showed a new concert tribute to the First Lady of Song earlier tonight. I drowned my sorrow over Tennessee softball's loss to Arizona in the music.

Anyway, I downloaded one of Ella's recordings, "Mack the Knife: The Ella in Berlin," a 1960 live concert and a delicious slice of American jazz. Ella's take on "Summertime" (and a few painkillers) eases the pain awhile. Her flubbed version of "Mack the Knife" is a true classic.

PBS is showing the "We Love Ella" special as part of the channel's annual pledge drive. If it hasn't played in your area yet, do yourself a favor and watch or TiVo it.

Performers include Natalie Cole, Quincy Jones, Take 6, Stevie Wonder, Dave Koz, Lizz Wright and several others, along with some of the best recordings from the American Songbook. Need I say more?

OK, that's enough for now. Just had to get some stuff off my chest tonight. Thanks for pulling up a chair and listenin' awhile.

See you soon. I'll let you know what the doc says.