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Reflections of the Weekend that Used to Be.

14 Feb

This past weekend was interesting.

A dream is an answer to a question we haven’t learned how to ask. I had a pretty vivid dream during the weekend. Other than the fact that reading all these mysteries is clearly having an impact on the old subconscious—I was solving a crime with a ragtag group of amateur investigators—the dream was intriguing for another reason. At one point, a dream character (i.e., no one I know in real life) turns to me and says, “You need to move to Los Angeles.” So…yeah. Curious, being that my initial desire, before the desire to move to Europe manifested itself, was to head to the West Coast and settle down there. I was actually looking for jobs, readying my resume, the whole process. I recognize that it was only a dream, but…have I learned to ask myself whether the West Coast is the viable choice? Viable in comparision to Europe, which is far less about practicality and wanting to satisfy my Europhile wishes? Was the question cushioned somewhere in the back of my mind, waiting to be answered in a dream? Heavy questions for a dream that was largely about solving a crime in the Hollywood Hills. Nevertheless, very, very interesting…

 

 

After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music. I’ve long discussed my passionate love of music on this forum. This quote takes all my exclamations and feelings and oohing and aahing and pontificating and wraps it up in one startling, amazing sentence. Not much else needs to be said. As far as the weekend is concerned, other than crazy dreams, I overdosed musically. Downloading songs, getting lost in them, allowing music to push my days forward. For the record, I’d just like to say that Sara Bareilles’  album, Kaleidoscope Heart, may be one of the more touching, honest, heartbreaking, and intelligent records I’ve heard in a long time. It would be nice to see artists like Sara drowning in media love, instead of artists like the Bieber. Just saying.

The short end of my interesting weekend. Onwards with this Manic Monday…

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The Song Remains the Same

25 Jan

 

What is it about music that makes me so happy and contented? Or am I just a sucker for rich melodies and amazing lyrics? Whatever the case may be, music has been a mainstay in my life since I can remember. The absolute and deep love of it came right from my parents, who never held back from expressing how they felt about a good song or how that particular song made them feel. I can see my father now, describing the wonder of hearing the country group Alabama do a duet with Lionel Richie, and how that sound just thrilled him. Or how hearing Aretha Franklin’s version of “Bridge over Troubled Water” led him to play the record repeatedly until it wore itself out. There’s the memory of my mother professing her love for a tune from The Phantom of the Opera; how she refused to hide her love for disco and the songs from that time. I took all of that in–undoubtedly, that musical aspect of my upbringing is a big part of my life.
At work, while writing, at play, the rare taking of a walk–music is always with me. Undeniably, it’s a powerful, at times emotional, connection. Yes, yes, how I love it so.
This is the current song I’m listening to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hXx-xxnMSoU. It’s a cover of a Carole King song by Rod Stewart. For those few eyes that visit this JournaBlog, it’s worth listening to, if only for the simple and spare beauty of the lyrics.
In other news, I was thankfully able to feed the addicition yesterday and purchase a new purse. Sigh. So shiny and new. It’s lovely. Granted, the old bag was being held together by rubber bands and paper clips. It was high time for a replacement.
And the beat goes on…
BJ & FE SCOTT

...LIVING THE BEST LIFE EVER!

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