What's Left After.

And somehow this comes to mind. The concert I would camp a night in a front of venue to get to. How the hell Don Henley still sounds like this is insane, Joe Walsh, well, one of the greatest guitar players of all time (Don Felder is still out, and Glenn Frey, RIP) but pay attention to how many Russian comments are under this, and how even shitty sound still shows how incredible Eagles sound live. And, yes, these are pieces and bits of America (not a trap of California consumerism and debauchery) which produced at some point of time a truly great art. 

I also have a personal secret. My relation to Eagles through couple of people is much closer than you may think. Let's put it this way-I was privy to some private recordings of Jack Tempchin, late Glenn Frey and another dude from Wilshire Boulevard. But that is a separate story altogether. 

And she is back after going missing for two years.  

This, basically, transcends borders.

Sorry For Slowdown

I apologize for not being active in the past week or so, but I am busting my butt in trying to meet a deadline for one publishing house which asked me to present couple more chapters of my book and I am obliging. They seem to be genuinely interested. I will, of course, inform on this ordeal, if it ever ends. My next rather large piece should be in US Naval Institute Blog (guess from three times what it will be about--it starts from aircr...;) this coming week. So, yes--I am not dead yet. For the rest, instead of Friday, I do Saturday's venturing into what truly was good and worthy and it calls for talking to my friend Jim Beam and a lady called Tatiana (vanilla flavor, of course). It just never gets old. For a generation of 1970s and high school dances (named discotheques--it was cooler this way)--how many first kisses or, for that matter, virginities lost, to this timeless masterpiece. Just to give you an impression--it was this new year 2017 celebration in our house. We put this in the living room (I have some powerful stereo) and here it was a bunch of us from USA, Russia, Ukraine dancing with each other and then, doing one of the best collective air-guitar performance of all time, to Joe Walsh's genius transcendental solo. While writing the book, it occurred to me--we are what we all hold dear.