Good to Hear from You

And the pictures and memories remain from the dizzying blur that was 2010. You could say this is just a rehash of my 2009: 12 for 12, but in a lean blogging year, it's still an effort. Maybe there was a lot more to do, leaving less time to simply muse about it. Pardon the excuses of the lazy.

( Still, here are some odds and ends from a year that saw actual major movement in ways I had only previously imagined. )

You know how you have favorite photographs? Those you love revisiting, and would consider framing and displaying for all the world to see (or okay, at least posting on Facebook)? Sometimes, there are other overlooked shots that can also bring you back to a happy place and time.

In a year that was grand in scale, I welcomed the quieter, smaller moments. And like I read on some sagely restaurant menu, "The extremities in life keep me balanced."

I'd like to sing this song. Will you let me?

All My Tomorrows
Jimmy Van Heusen/Sammy Cahn


"Today I may not have a thing at all
Except for just a dream or two
But I've got lots of plans for tomorrow
And all my tomorrows belong to you

"Right now it may not seem like spring at all
We're drifting and the laughs are few
But I've got rainbows planned for tomorrow
And all my tomorrows belong to you

"No one knows better than I
That luck keeps passing me by--that's fate
But with you there at my side
I'll soon be turrning the tide; just wait

"As long as I've got arms that cling at all
It's you that I'll be clinging to
And all the dreams I dream, beg, or borrow
On some bright tomorrow they'll all come true

And all my bright tomorrows belong to you."

Everybody's talking at me. I don't hear a word they're saying. Only the echoes of my mind.*

She plugs on the earphones, and doesn't know whether she should cry or laugh. Her lips are turned into a half smile, a half smirk. No one wins, and there she is, more than glad to be unhappy.**

There goes Madeleine Peyroux, cooing to low percussion beats, lone guitar plucking and the fluid stroking of piano keys. Off to the place where the sun keeps shining, through the pouring rain*. Wouldn't that be just perfect?

Somewhere in between the comfort of worn sheets, meandering deserted streets, or seated in a cavernous concert hall. To be alone in a crowd or all by her lonesome in every sense of the word. Could there really be room enough for two up on the roof?***

And then that unnerving signal interrupts her delicious state of limbo. Crashing down from the rooftop.

Train is coming, train is coming.

Chris Botti will have to wait. So unhappy, but oh so glad.*


* * *



Lyrics from:

*Everybody's Talking as sung by Madeleine Peyroux
**Glad to be Unhappy, Chris Botti's and John Mayer's version
***Up on the Roof, performed by Tuck & Patti

"Highway Rider" is about a journey

--a journey away from home,
and then the return home.

Some of that journey is made in solitude,
and some of it is made with others."

That is how Brad Mehldau decsribes his latest album, "Highway Rider"--an all-original orchestral jazz opus, in collaboration with his "Largo" producer, Jon Brion. A beautiful belated birthday gift from him, I'd like to think.

Well, it may be a little too early for me to be throwing out such lines, but I've at least started on the first part of that journey.

Most stories have a beginning and an end. And so I start this chapter, before I move on to the next.

And Home. It is anywhere you make it to be anyway.



***


Read the rest of the book text here. Just look for the link to the storybook on the home page.



***


Brad Mehldau dedicates the album to his son, Damien Patrick, who has "brought him so much joy". This is for you, and all of you, who have brought me joy and so much more. This chapter or the next, I hope to be making the journey with you.

Dear me, it's only the second day of the year, and what's this? I'll try something different for a change, and post something.

Now that statement you see up there is not actually a real resolution, but a funny find from one Resolution Generator. First hit on the button, and this comes up.

Well, as I always say, anything's possible.

My sister woodycakes religiously updated her 12 of 12 photoblog series, that is posting 12 pictures taken on the 12th day of each month. I was obviously too lazy for that, and besides, already had my blogging efforts cut out for me with the "12 for 2009" endeavor.


( Anyway, I told myself I'd reserve my 12 pictures for the last entry of 2009. )

Here's to the next ten years and beyond. :)

.:.














* * *



The crawl to Christmascommences, and suddenly,sparks of happiness


* * *
















I won't let time run away..............................With you. I'm not that..................................................................easy to sway. Your way. Is still worth it.

♥

I put on a new dress, in what turn out to be his favorite colors. I primp my newly cut hair, and spritz on my perfume. And I'm off for the weekend matinee. A Spring Awakening, in every sense.

The car drives down familiar roads, and we cross familiar streets--except this time, unfettered, just catching the last lazy hours before the Monday rush.

We're early for a cozy, comfortable, French dinner. And as always, I seem to have so much more on my plate, as he is left wanting more. But we are happy, and that is always enough.


In all my hurry earlier on in the day, I forget one minor detail. That contraption used for taking photographs, I think?

Well, my memory and these words will have to do for now. No, I'd like to think this will be enough.

Yes, that is love. And it's actually the title of a song from Sophie Milman's latest album, Take Love Easy.

I could've written about the recent female jazz albums I listened to over the summer. I could've made my tribute to Brad Mehldau, who not-so-recently celebrated his birthday. I could've blogged about so many other more 'interesting' things. So many could'ves. There's time in the world for that. Instead, I'll let my one track mind reign free for now, with this song of the moment.

You can't entirely accuse me of laziness, though. This isn't simply cut-and-paste, as I couldn't find the text anywhere online. I just transcribed it, listening to the song. Ah, it must be love, after all.

That is Love
Sophie Milman


Hold tight, you're fighting for your life
You bump around, fall to the ground
Inside a roller coaster ride, your world is turning upside down,
but that's love

Soaring high then tumbling down,
I tell you baby that's the way love is
Hold me tight then place your hand in mine
We'll make it safely to the ground

But that's love, that is love
The crazy little ups and downs, a merry going round and round
The roller coaster ride, that is love

Your life is turning on its side but rain or shine, you'll still be mine
That's how the game of life is played
You roll the dice and take a chance,
but that's love

Soaring high then tumbling down,
I tell you baby that's the way love is
Take a chance on me and you will find,
And we'll make it safely to the ground

But that's love, that is love
The crazy little ups and downs, a merry going round and round
The roller coaster ride, that is love

That is love

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Long before MTV's series on the party-planning exploits of the not-so-sweet sixteen, there was once a young adult book series called "The Year I Turned Sixteen"--where girls on the cusp of that saccharine age, narrate in the first-person their romantic experiences on the blessed year they blew out 16 candles on their cakes.

Now I can probably tell you my own version from 1999, before the dawn of the 21st century, but it really wouldn't be as interesting. And knowing now how it all played out 10 years down the road, well I'd like to say, some stories are worth the wait.

Four years ago was just supposed to be the start of a career, the date becoming a signpost of the passing time.
Then it took some four months for a decision to be made, and a chance to be taken.
And finally, four days after after the four months, well you know the rest.

There were the eight or so odd-hours for five days a week, for 30 months.
There was that group of five or four, that became just two.
There were the 25-minute walks at day's end, hundreds of train rides, a bus or two, some taxi cabs hailed, and now the long drive home.
There were the Friday nights, that turned into Saturdays, even Sunday mornings.
There was October, December 2007, the year that was 2008, January, September, then November rolled in.
Then came the whirlwind of 2009, January, February, all the way to March 7 up until July 11. And there is now.
Are four weeks actually about to pass?

To paraphrase from that song, "Speak Low", by Kurt Weill and Ogden Nash, could this be "pure gold" with "time as thief"? With the way the days have alternately zipped by or slowed down from moment to moment, I wonder if it could also be the other way around? How I've willingly spent this precious commodity, how I've found a substitute for time.

I've never considered myself a numbers person, but sometimes all my verbosity just won't cut it. I fear I am wrought with over-sentimentality and gaudiness, so I'll let the figures speak for themselves.

These serendipitous numerals get me all rife with excitement. Must be that (over)exposure at work, day in, day out.

And just because there's always a first time--yes, Silje Nergaard, I'm pretty darned sure this is mine.


Here's to adding number 31 on the list.



***For jody2b, on the occasion of July 11, 2009.

Here we go...



At the Indira Ghandi International Airport, New Delhi, India




Yes, it is the eighth of July, year 2009. Fancy that.

I think I'll deviate from the vague and poetic prose, and attempt to put into writing the events of the past so many weeks--in non-cryptic terms, I promise!

As chronological as my memory allows it to be, here are some first times, new experiences or maybe even just things I haven't done in a while. Just take your guesses on which is which.


1. Actually paid for an American Idol concert (puro mall shows lang dati), and saw, squealed and swooned over the oh-so-adorable David Archuleta. Oh sorry, am I forgetting Mr. Cook here? Patty sure didn't.

2. Got sent on my first company-sponsored training abroad and as a result...

3. ...Went on an Indian sojourn with Ina and Robbie, hopping from Mumbai, Delhi, Agra and back, in a span of 5 days.


( 30 for June 30 continues... )

(Almost exactly) Seven* months ago, I dined with only my vagarities for company.

This evening, I find myself standing once more in front of the same aluminum counters, in that fabled fastfood joint, unsure of what order to place.

Then out of nowhere, a familiar refrain plays, and Zac Efron beckons me to a waltz number (to the strains of a song that had practically been on repeat that afternoon).

One in a million chance, he says?

Never mind that I am caught without a partner--strangely and deceptively, the steps all seem so clear to me.

Does it really keep on getting better?

My vision is less blighted, travelling forward from those seven long months ago. Still, I can't wipe the foolish grin off my face. Place your order, or be damned. Blame it on my youth; blame it on that song.

Yes, I think I'll have this dance, and I'll take my extra large** fries with that.


* * *



*This obsession with serendipitous numbers, has become a motif in my life of late. Ah, it must be the effect of having to deal with figures everyday.

**Oh yes, the NEW Large. More is more. Bring it on.