Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Well, I am back to my usual old self, sleep deprived, doing my shit, trying to come up with something but only coming up with half assed little or nothing. Well, almost my usual old self. For one I can now hear music in both my ears, so I don’t have to hear anything else if I don’t want to. Yes, really, that is just fantastic, amazing, really.
No it’s not.
What’s amazing is Bolero. My first encounter with Bolero was in Kaka’s messy room. With him crawling in his bed, fighting not to come out of his deep sleep, and listening to the song to wake up, for all its long minutes. And then, as he wasn’t up, because he didn’t wanna be up, he would loop it, and we would listen some more. And a pleasant smell of lovely mom’s food invaded the room when the door opened, and Bolero kept on building up and building up, without ever releasing. Just when I thought it would explode, it kept on building up and a new calm and rigid note would cover the scented and messy room.
It seemed to never end, and I didn’t want it to end.
Now, I found the song again, redone by Pink Martini; and I can’t stop listening to it. It’s hard to explain what it makes me feel. In the spur of the moment yesterday I managed to capture it by the tail in an email but recapturing twice is lame. In one word, it makes me melancholyhappy.
This piece is one of these little things that explain life, these little wonders that make it all worth while, these little achievements that give me faith in the human kind and its intelligence, it’s one of those creations that explain why and for what we are here on this rock.
If you have money, go get the entire Sympathique and Hang On Little Tomato albums by Pink Martini, and if you’re a dirty dowg, download Bolero here, turn off the lights and pump up the volume and watch out for time 4:17 when I fell like bursting.
No it’s not.
What’s amazing is Bolero. My first encounter with Bolero was in Kaka’s messy room. With him crawling in his bed, fighting not to come out of his deep sleep, and listening to the song to wake up, for all its long minutes. And then, as he wasn’t up, because he didn’t wanna be up, he would loop it, and we would listen some more. And a pleasant smell of lovely mom’s food invaded the room when the door opened, and Bolero kept on building up and building up, without ever releasing. Just when I thought it would explode, it kept on building up and a new calm and rigid note would cover the scented and messy room.
It seemed to never end, and I didn’t want it to end.
Now, I found the song again, redone by Pink Martini; and I can’t stop listening to it. It’s hard to explain what it makes me feel. In the spur of the moment yesterday I managed to capture it by the tail in an email but recapturing twice is lame. In one word, it makes me melancholyhappy.
This piece is one of these little things that explain life, these little wonders that make it all worth while, these little achievements that give me faith in the human kind and its intelligence, it’s one of those creations that explain why and for what we are here on this rock.
If you have money, go get the entire Sympathique and Hang On Little Tomato albums by Pink Martini, and if you’re a dirty dowg, download Bolero here, turn off the lights and pump up the volume and watch out for time 4:17 when I fell like bursting.
