Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Wonderful Weirdness...



Thursday, March 7, 2013

But it Really Gets Bad... 'Round Midnight

If I were slightly more self-destructive I would have had Courvoisier for breakfast this morning.  I have real worries that I muddle through and most mornings are manageable, but last night I threw some public humiliation onto the worry-pile and now I'm feeling less than functional.  I haven't much distance yet...  I so hope it will be funny in time.

It had been a few months since I'd sung publicly.  The sadness I claimed made me silent?  Even more so in music.  A friend invited me to a vocal jazz jam last night and on a whim I thought it time to come out of hiding.

I'm sure we've all seen painful performances and felt both empathy for the struggling performer and annoyance on behalf of our own assaulted ears.  It was that.  Some novices are blissfully unaware of the mixed emotions they cause, but I am no novice.  It's been a long time since an audience felt so badly for me no one would make eye contact.

K by Julie Desroches

I left the stage and went out onto the street.

It was a drizzly night and I left both my coat and my handbag behind in the club and I just walked and walked the fairly quiet streets of my city.  I don't often do this...  my sense of personal (womanly) safety prevents it, but this was fight or flight and I was fleeing.

I walked until the fresh air calmed my flushed face, finally being able to stop staring down at my own two boots and look up and around and see the people I passed.  I was approached by folks on the street living a far more hand to mouth existence than me.  When I have money I tend to give it but I had nothing with me to donate.  Often I'm so busy rummaging for change and a solution to my guilt I, like my audience, neglect to make eye contact and have a human exchange... but last night, with nothing in my hands, I could finally meet everyone's eyes.

It strikes me that we all have failures and embarrassments.  We all have dropped the ball at some point in our lives and lost the game.  People out there facing the elements might very well be there, in part, because it was better than facing some horribly humbling event.  We are not very far removed from each other. 

Even the people who seem to handle uncertainties with grace want to have a tipple instead of toast in the morning sometimes.



Labels: ,

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

When I'm 84

I saw Quartet recently.  It's a film set in a residence for retired musicians somewhere in the achingly gorgeous English countryside.  This place does not resemble the 'homes' I've seen.  I'd move in right this minute for the fantastic wallpaper alone not to mention the inspiring music that seemed to be pouring out of every room.

I think I may have been the youngest person in the theatre, but considering the pain that two hours of sitting in a cinema seat causes right now, I feel I earned my place!

I wish we could find a fitting and comfortable place for my father-in-law as we are struggling at the moment over what to do about the changes in his health.  Small strokes are silencing his accordion.  He just does not have the arm strength to hold his instrument anymore.

We've just about talked him into leaving the mainland and coming to live on the island so we can be closer, but it's such a big change at 84.  I fear that change is coming for him whether it's chosen or not.  To be at this point with him so soon after losing my Dad...  well, my heart is not ready for change either.

We've spent the past week looking at apartments and residences and trying to learn what his tastes and preferences are in a place to live.  It's quite clear that this man would not be happy in a remote and stately country pile!  He likes new.  A young man in war-ravaged Italy, the old and the handsomely crumbling holds no romance for him.  Me?  I quite liked the look of this place...



Monday, March 4, 2013

Cover Your Self! (Help)

Ah, sadness.  It can dry up one's creativity and leave you instead with a stack of books by the bedside with embarrasing titles.  I haven't been particularly crafty, but I thought I'd show you one of my better ideas of late.

Are you like me and feel slightly sheepish about the self-help titles in your book collection?  I find them a tad too revealing when company is over... plus?  Ugly.  Why so much yellow and red on stark white backgrounds?  This does not help my self!
If the looks of your books are not helping your self, do find the prettiest handmade paper you can get your hands on and simply make book covers.  Stash your reads amongst your vintage book collection and no one will be the wiser.

Labels: ,

Sunday, March 3, 2013

The Most Beautiful Virtue

It is as though you are a soldier off to some far-flung country
and I am the final fling.
You study these things.
My comparison may be unfair,
but I have the history of all womankind's long wait in my blood.
I carry their memories of tender apologies that offered no promises,
of empty lockets,
and the slight little bite of regret,
for ever falling for the charms of a man
who could talk a shoulder out of a dress.
~ K. Di Gregorio 2013



Saturday, March 2, 2013

And So to Booze

Moody moments by stormy seas and sad but lovely songs.  I think you know where this is headed... here is what has found its way into my cup.

photo courtesy of

I know that drinking is the answer to very little (other than thirst), but a sip of something that tastes like summer blooms does do a little to remind the soul that the sun will shine again despite this grey upon grey winter.

A bottle of St. Germain is a lovely thing to have around.  I feel entirely prepared if Hercule Poirot pops 'round to solve the mystery of missing smiles, for surely he would approve of this lovely liqueur.  Mind you, it's not creme de menthe... so perhaps not.

Made in France of freshly picked elderflower blossoms, the process seems as pretty as the bottle.  It is said the blooms are bundled up and transported by old fashioned bicycle to the collection depot.  Oh bicycles.  Oh how I miss mine.

photo courtesy of

A number of weeks ago I witnessed from the kitchen window a cat about to eat a bird.  I rushed outside trying to prevent imminent demise, slipping down an icy set of stairs and falling into a bucket of water for comedic effect.  I fractured my tailbone...  the bird didn't live.  I've been off my bike for too long a time but I shouldn't complain...  I will ride again someday...  the bird?  She will not fly.

I'm doing some active healing work.  Just today I joined a circle of women for some musical meditation.  My darling friend is a concert pianist and had a group of 6 of us crawl under her new Steinway while she played for us, notes coursing through our broken bodies.

In a fine old house, high above sullen seas, laughing and crying under a piano, I knew it would all come right.  I wasn't even drunk.  There is indeed beauty in the breakdown.