Asbury Park. When I was a kid, President Eisenhower had difficulties with the ninth hole(golf) and a few foreign policy issues, the Everly Brothers sang ‘Bye Bye Love’ and my parents rented a bungalow in Belmar on Seventh Avenue for August. When my father came for weekends, we’d go to nearby Asbury Park for boardwalk rides, Kohr’s Custard and wide-eyed dreams emanating beyond ocean’s horizon.

Custard evolved from an old original recipe that added eggs to the mixture to stiffen the product because their stores were located near the salt air ocean which tended to melt it quicker. Then I went away to college. Then I got married for a first time and Asbury Park somehow faded from sensibility. The city’s new building construction projects seemed to stop on the third floor; concrete skeletons endured for decades. Then Springsteen sprinkled magic. Then another viable Fifteenth century Renaissance; Asbury Park is now a Parisienne center (the left bank is the Atlantic Ocean) of music, art, boutique food and just plain chic stuff. Last Wednesday, I spent the day in Asbury Park stumbling around; the day could’ve been the sunniest, most perfectly blue sky day since September 8, 1934, when the S.S. Morro Castle, on the way from Havana(pre Castro) to New York, caught fire, burned and killed 137 people off the coast of Asbury Park.

 

I found a plaque near Convention Hall commemorating the disaster. Here’s my deal. Something had come over me this day. A week later, now as I write this, I still feel a sense of abandon and loneliness. As often mentioned in my blogs, I adore the word ‘something.’

Last Wednesday was a random day; free of purpose, filling my nostrils with magic ocean air; I wandered and roamed with a strange sense of abandoned sadness; my photographic experience was filled with desolation and solitude. In the distance the boardwalk seemed to end near the blue sky and awfully dark blue ocean. One lone person approached me. I waited for his passage and moved on. Convention Hall was open but wondrously empty.

 

 

Just me and a few strange signs;  ‘Open all Year. Closed’ and in front of a surreal cafe (no people whatsoever), a dozen empty ‘outside’ tables with a pastel sign, ‘ Please Wait to be Seated.’ Back on the lonely boardwalk, I saw a pigeon about to walk into an outdoor restaurant. The sun passed through a wrought iron fence and cast a strange shadow on the pigeon’s body. “Jonathan Livingston Pigeon, I presume?” I called out; no aviary answer. Pink web feet helped it scamper under an empty table that in season served ‘world famous lobster rolls’ and sausage and pepper sandwiches.’

 

I love materializing; an antique shop, ‘Flying Saucers’ sells empty boxes of mothballs, ‘Two Guys’ stores tee shirts and ‘Schaefer Beer’ trays;  Heaven Art Gallery had an amazing showing of ‘Jersey Shore: Images from Sandy Hook to Island Beach.’ Artist Michael Miller was featured. I spent an hour absorbing. A few feet further down on Cookman Avenue was ‘Paranormal Book and Curiosities.’ The owner told me about the Zombie Parade in Asbury Park on October 22nd. I told the owner about my meeting George Miller, a ghost from a west Jersey eyeglass store, who once jumped into my cell phone. I have witnesses. Can you imagine 4000 zombies? Of course I’m a Zombie non-believer and will probably wear jeans and a Rutgers cap when I absorb the sunset festivities.

 

 

Suddenly I was in a Texas town, Anarene, a real ghost town but is the subject of the movie and book, ‘Last Picture Show.’  Black and white sage brush was blowing across a dirt street. A pool hall screen door swings open and closed in relentless wind. I looked down at my feet, firmly fastened on the Asbury Park boardwalk; infant sagebrush blew around my feet. Where did it come from? This is Jersey. How fitting and proper in my sadness to see ‘stumble’ weeds on a deserted boardwalk. A few yards away, ‘Obey Records’ had several vintage 60’s billboards on top of a sealed building that served as a brewery (just my imagination) during the high times of the Volstead Act (prohibition).

 

 

 

Two hours later, I was home, loading my pictures into a computer. On a distant den television, CNN announced Steve Jobs had passed and I knew why strange sadness surrounded me all day with ‘palpable’ that I couldn’t explain whilst in Asbury Park. It’s not for me to memorialize Steve Jobs; the media can do that. But I think how empty and helpless I still feel; how such an amazing man with   $ 8 billion can not change the rules; we’re all in a line waiting for earthy popcorn and orange juice. Weeks ago, I wrote several blogs about Somalia; millions of people starving and dying. Millions of people mourned Steve Jobs’ passing including me too.  I listened to his 2005 commencement speech at Stanford five times already; I memorized the ending:

 

‎”Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart. Stay hungry. Stay foolish.” -Steve Jobs

 

One more thought about jobs. The federal Jobs Bill. If you can put people back to work, then just pass the bill; put politics aside. Same rational thought; if there is the slightest doubt about innocence or guilt, then you never execute (dedicated to the state of  Georgia,USA)

In my never ending pursuit of fatherly bonding, beer pong fantasy teams and enjoying the company of my 25 year old son, said prodigal son came home for the weekend and asked me to watch ‘Pulp Fiction’ with him on Friday night. I’d seen bits and pieces; my son, in classic Siskel and Ebert format, narrated me through poignancy, relevancy and Quentin Tarantino genius. So now I love the movie, dialogue, craftsmanship, style and will surely see it again if only to figure out what was in the brief case. In the molecular rearrangement I’ve made since Friday night lights and action, maybe this is a good time to espouse some pulp non-fiction things which concern me. On a car trip my son and I took together over the weekend, I asked if we had started to sound like Jules and Vincent. He hesitated and half shook his head in agreement. And then I said to my son, “I still haven’t memorized the passage from Ezekiel 25:17.” He laughed and told me not to bother. I asked, “Wouldn’t that help our father-son bonding if I impressed you that way?” “No Dad.” I love when he calls me ‘Dad.’

 

 

 

Then I suggested to him at the third traffic light in a row that I caught, “Would you be proud of me if I went to the Occupy Rally on Wall Street, perhaps wearing that old ‘Lehman Brothers’ tee shirt.”  He laughed and said it’s just like me to do something foolish like that. And I felt good about him calling me foolish. I always aspire to be that no matter what; after all, “Stay Foolish” was the last two words Steve Jobs said to the Stanford students. I’ve been on a foolish quest for a long time. I think it’s an intrinsic ingredient to living to 150 years anyway.

So more pulp non fiction; a good friend and surgeon tells me how insurance companies are quietly, under the cover of darkness, trying to lobby lawmakers to change the rules regarding ancillary medical personnel (secretaries, window washers?) being allowed to administer Propofol (the stuff that killed Michael Jackson) during an operation because it is such a wonderfully safe anesthetic that leaves the body so fast and is relatively risk free; 50,000 procedures and not one problem. And I asked, “Why would insurance companies trespass on the way you perform operations and treat patients?” And before he answered me, I said, “Ah ha, the insurance companies, like car and drug companies that don’t recall things in a timely fashion, want to save money by not using/paying for the anesthesiologist.” He smiled sardonically.

 Finally, one more bit of pulp non-fiction. Out of the clear blue infinitesimal realm of the synchronistic universe, which I’ve been travelling through for the last several decades, I got a letter from Harvard Medical School over the past weekend that saw Rutgers University football upset Pittsburgh34 to 10. The letter was an invitation to participate in a blind supplement study for five years regarding fish oil and Vitamin D. So the world it seems is Vitamin D deficient because we’re all sitting inside at computer screens and bathing in sunscreens while the sun helps us synthesize D. For no cash compensation, do I want to take a chance and pull myself off these supplements I’ve been taking for the last 40 years with the hope I’m not the fickle finger of fate with a five year placebo? Moments ago, Diane Sawyer reported on ABC World News about the results of a multi year study of women and supplements; they may not help but actually may hurt up to 3.8%.(iron) Only calcium helps. By the way, that letter is now on my old fashioned bulletin board, hanging next to a picture of Walt Frazier, Ron Jaworski and me. I do get around. I’d like to know how big brother knew I love taking supplements on my 150 year journey. Did a blogger or Facebook give me away?

 

A quick word about consumerism:  Last week I went to CVS drug store to buy a bottle of Lipo-flavonoid Plus supplement ($32.99). A few days later, I forgot that I have an account with Amazon and looked it up. This is not a commercial. Amazon sells it for $23.61 and no shipping charge. Then I looked up Hyaluronic acid which I buy from a national vitamin chain ($22.99).  Amazon sells for $13.21 with shipping. But the national vitamin store chain made me a VIP customer and I get a free health magazine every few months.

 

Finally,  I’m standing outside this huge green door that rises up two stories from the good earth. On tip toes, I reach for a door knocker and bang the drum slowly for a minute. A small portal opens and a man with a huge handlebar moustache asks my business. I exclaimed, “I’m here for help, to see the smart man. I think you call him a wizard.” There’s silence. Again I ask for help. The door opens slowly; surprisingly squeaky too. I’m led down a long hallway by that man who’s wearing a Beefeater uniform.

More doors open. Meanwhile, a small circle in the palm of my hand started glowing ghastly green. Now I’m standing in a great room with tables and wooden stools. White cloths, dishes, wine glasses and plastic dinnerware tell me I’m in an adult dining room. In front of a makeshift stage, I see a long table with chafing dishes warmed by gas jets. Then I remembered the Jets just lost to New England. Then I snapped out of resignation. Did Cher slap my face too? The Beefeater guy points to a robust tall man with a ladle stirring something in a pot. “Go talk to Rex,” he said. I walk over. Rex  asks if I’d like some split pea soup with or without croutons. I decline. “I need advice. A lot of heavy personal things; you know, crossroads stuff.”  Then he whispered, “With or without croutons? And the soup is not greasy.” So I yelled, “Stop with the soup!” I’ve been waiting to use that line for a long time. Holding the ladle menacingly, Rex said, “Try it with the croutons. And the crossroads stuff. When you get to a fork in the road, take it.” I said, “That’s a foolish answer.” He smiled. “Isn’t that what you’re about? Staying foolish.”  And I said, “Thanks for being incisive.”  I turned around as all the doors opened. A football team rushed to the buffet line. When I turned back around, my new wise friend, who just might be the king, was gone; ladle was still on table.

 

Now new business: Here’s information and links re: Singularity Summit. As far as I’m concerned,  I’ll finally be in OZ after a long winding yellow brick road.

 

http://www.singularitysummit.com/program

 

 

Singularity Summit Explores Ground-Breaking Technologies, Features IBM’s Watson’s Computer and Record-Breaking Jeopardy! Winner

What is the future of artificial intelligence?

New York,NY(PRWEB) September 20, 2011

Over 700 scientists, engineers, businesspeople, and technologists for this year’s Singularity Summit – the world’s leading conference on emerging technologies. The event will be held October 15 & 16 at 92Y inNew York.

The Summit will explore “big picture” questions such as the direction of the global economy, philosophy of mind, and the ethics of technological development. Twenty-five speakers will present including two professors of robotics, financial experts, a co-founder of Skype, a pioneer in regenerative medicine, scientists from the MIT Media Lab, a longevity expert, economist Tyler Cowen, cosmologist Max Tegmark, neuroscientist Christ of Koch, and venture capitalist Peter Thiel.

The recent victory of IBM’s Watson supercomputer on the game show Jeopardy! will be the central theme of discussion, with a keynote by Jeopardy contestant and 74-time winner Ken Jennings.

Jennings surprised audiences around the world in 2004 when he won 74 continuous Jeopardy! matches, winning over $2,500,000 on a six-month streak. In February, Jennings went up against Watson in on a special exhibition match of Jeopardy! and lost. In his keynote at Singularity Summit, Jennings will recount his experience on Jeopardy! and what it felt like to lose to a machine on the game show he otherwise dominated.

Ray Kurzweil, futurist and inventor, will be speak on the implications of the Watson victory. Dan Cerutti, who manages the commercialization of Watson at IBM, will speak on applying Watson to fields besides Jeopardy!, such as medicine. Stephen Wolfram, a pioneer in artificial intelligence, will speak on computation and the future of humanity.

CONTACT INFORMATION:

 

website:

http://vichywater.net/

Facebook: Cal Schwartz

Twitter:  Earthood     

book trailer. hey its 65 seconds long

IMPORTANT LINKS:

Immortality Institute (which represents advocacy and research for unlimited lifespan)

http://www.imminst.org/

August 2011. Guest on Alicia Cramer Show (podcast) “Thin Healthy Happy” :

http://wausauhypnotherapy.podbean.com/2011/08/02/calvin-barry-schwartz-interview-on-living-life/

 ARE you in search of another blog that is also outspoken, unique  BUT unbridled which means uninhibited ????  Meet   LINDA CHORNEY:

http://lindachorney.wordpress.com/