Introspection . Music
Little Sparrow and More
On February 20, 2017 by Speranza
Today is the last day of a few days off – no particular reason for time off – just something to break up February and offer the chance of getting some things done around the house. To that end, I have failed miserably and I don’t know why but I just couldn’t face starting a project: perhaps, because there are so many things that need attention and I feel overwhelmed. I then play games with myself all day that I will start emptying a closet in a minute, then after a snack and before you know it, yes, I have been on the computer looking at items I will literally never buy or getting lured down a rabbit-hole of dire political forecasts.
I hate to be such a cliché but there it is.
Anxiety . Introspection
Getting Through January
On January 23, 2017 by Speranza
It’s been ages since I posted here and I have been wittering and fretting about whether or not to even continue the blog, but ultimately, it’s a good discipline for a writer and frankly, the most instant way I know to be published. Which is often satisfying. All of this can make one feel extremely down of course (particularly when combined with a nasty virus that has only just released its claws from me) and I have spent rather too much time dwelling on Donald Trump, my own money worries, Black Mirror which I will never watch again as I only slept 92 minutes after watching two episodes, Donald Trump again, repetitively bad Tarot card readings and the atrophying effect that lack of collagen is wreaking on my person, which I like to confirm daily by going to the worst lit mirror in our house and hanging upside down.
I believe that this act may be the evil twin of doing Positive Affirmations.
Oh, and also wondering if I should be scanning the Book of Revelation with a fresher, keener eye for detail since the world we are living in at the moment seems poised for something that is um, not greatness.
Introspection . Nature . Poetry . The General
Some Keep the Sabbath going to Church — (236)
On May 15, 2016 by Speranza
Some keep the Sabbath going to Church –
I keep it, staying at Home –
With a Bobolink for a Chorister –
And an Orchard, for a Dome –
Introspection . Travel
Zona Romantica – Part II
On March 29, 2016 by Speranza
I have to say that while we were in Mexico we had the most charming array of taxi drivers and I never once had the feeling that we were being “played.” Perhaps we were just fortunate but being an intuitive sort I really believe that sometimes the most obvious explanation – that these were actually kind, uncomplicated people – is the truth. One driver in particular, an older, stocky man clearly happy to have yet another opportunity to test-drive his English was especially sweet and after an initially awkward beginning ( kind of like the feeling you had as a teenager when Someone’s Else’s Dad was driving you home and they run out of steam after “Sooo, how’s school going?”) we had a really spirited, excellent rapport which culminated in him handing over his cellphone and insisting that I scroll through his photos of local construction sites, places he had been with family etc.
So a genuine sharing, not a lead-in to “I-can-take-you-there-later-for-special-price.”
When we got out at the airport, I complimented him on his driving as well as his English and he bowed deeply, squeezed my hand and said “God Bless You.” I felt irrationally moved and sad since we were leaving that morning. I also felt extremely angry and defensive recalling all the people at home who had grimaced knowingly and made disparaging, warning comments about going to Mexico. As they say in the north of England: “Best to take people as you find them.”
On a more base level, we also had some take-your-breath-away handsome taxi drivers. This is a look I myself have always appreciated (dark and swarthy not taxi-drivers, per se) and can probably be easily traced back to watching re-runs of I Love Lucy and experiencing first twinges of lust for the then-stunning Desi Arnaz …
But back to our gripping tale.
British Stuff . Introspection . Music . Sadness
David Bowie
On January 16, 2016 by Speranza
My memories of David Bowie and my years as a teen in 1970s Britain cannot be separated from one another; they are stitched tightly together like a tapestry and as I discovered this week have not lost any of their potency.
I actually watched my hands shake when I read the news of his passing and have not been able to write about it till today.
My much older brother (whom I very fondly call ‘Spock’ ) took great enjoyment in regularly skewering my admiration of Bowie at the time although interestingly, this “phase” would continue into my adulthood since this was Not. A. Puppy Luu-uuv). Spock would frequently suggest that if Bowie was really the talent I claimed he was, he would not have to resort to the ‘gimmickry’ of different personas etc.
(Let’s just say that my brother was not entirely comfortable with Bowie’s sparkling, off-the-shoulder body stocking …)
Years later I stopped arguing with him or anyone else because if you are asking this kind of question you have either never listened to the music or, you just didn’t get it.
In which case, I feel badly for you – but cannot explain it.
To me Bowie was a poet, a brilliant, self-taught intellectual (that crisp, almost Royal annunciation wasn’t acquired on the streets of Brixton) and despite the glittery beginning I absolutely lusted after him. His voice could bring me to my knees (the earnest phrasing, the lingering over a syllable) and I listened over and over, often deep into the night, creating my own anthems, hearing something different each time.