Monday, August 20, 2018


We all know "love is like a never-ending melody". But getting in tune with oneself ranks as an irrefragable second in my books.  Today as I streamed along the winding road in my open car on what is assuredly one of the final balmy days of summer, it was a moment of magic, pleasant dreams and wishful thinking. The emerald towers of corn husks glittered under the azure dome in the country fields. The car shone from its wash; the engine hummed. I listened (with some effort against the whistling wind) to my iPhone music library, greedily switching from one favourite to another. It was an unimpeachable return to self-indulgence.

The tranquillity did however come at a cost.  It was only hours before that we had succeeded to wrestle a series of on-going annoyances and concerns to the ground.  Dealing with mortality in particular and reality in general is never an easy task especially if one is haunted by their recollection during the middle of the night - when oddly everything is seemingly insurmountable. Nor does it immediately help to have to endure the repercussion of one's own frank observation - those candid truths shared in a sudden confession of prolonged frustration, very often involving the inertia of determined vengeance and feelings of personal injury.  Yet even the most tasteful whiskey requires fire and evaporation, heating and cooling, to complete the action of purifying.

The finishing step before the return to Middle-C is the mechanical performance of checking, critically examining the sum of one's visceral insights before reaching a lasting cerebral conclusion.  It is at best a taxing process.  The ultimate evaluation is never assured to be either speedy or simple.  Often further clarification arises from the initial dissections.  It helps to reduce one's perceptions to plain sailing renditions, unfastening oneself from the myriad of complications which routinely affect our deliberations.

Meanwhile on the more global scale far removed from the trifles of everyday life the Cohens, Manaforts and Trumps of society remind us that the appearance of stalwart and altruistic behaviour is not always to be trusted or relied upon. Some people - in spite of their constant assertion of propriety and decency - are nothing but crooks. The elevation of their minds doesn’t begin to match the callousness and pitiful self-interest betrayed by their conduct.

"Desafinado" a Portuguese word (usually rendered into English as ""Out of Tune" or as "Off Key") is the title of a Bossa Nova song composed by Ant├┤nio Carlos Jobim. It was originally a response to critics who claimed that Bossa Nova was a new genre for singers who can't sing. The English language lyrics were written by Jon Hendricks and Jessie Cavanaugh (pseudonym used by "The Richmond Organisation"). Another English lyric more closely based on the original Portuguese lyric (but not a translation) was written by Gene Lees and appears on some recordings as well. The version by Stan Getz and Charlie Byrd (from the album "Jazz Samba") was a major hit in 1962, reaching number 15 and number 4 on billboard′s pop and easy-listening charts, respectively; their definitive rendering also reached number 11 in the UK, while Ella Fitzgerald's version made number 38. The song was voted by the Brazilian edition of "Rolling Stone"as the 14th greatest Brazilian song.

1 comment:

  1. So true, hope you sleep better now.
    Loved "irrefragable" and must find an appropriate occasion to use it ...soon!