“If music be the food of love, play on,
Give me excess of it; that surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.”
William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night
The old bard nailed it. There was a time in life when I could hold a tune, passably well. Well there was a time in life when I could stand on my head and my waist was 20 inches, but those times are long since gone. So has love … when I do encounter that creature, I am tempted to get out my ancient dissection set and cut it open – just for the heck of it.
No wonder I can’t sing any more.
This coming from a woman whose name featured largely on the DU campus radio. I had songs dedicated to me, yes sirreee! I had SONGS dedicated to me. John Denver’s Annie’s Song was dedicated to me by ex.
Kind of prophetic, considering his marriage to Annie Martel Denver was rocky and did not last. The guy saw the future I tell ya. And John Denver… well, wasn’t he who predicted that he’d be leaving on a jet plane?
So music to me meant, until now, listening to old country and classic rock on the drive to work and back home. That hasn’t lasted. Junior has a job in the same area as my work place. That means that he travels with me …. rather he drives, dumps me at my office, takes the car away and picks me up on the way back. Yayy for mother and son bonding! But the generation gap shows. My choice of music is not his cup of tea, and his choice of music is my cup of poison.
Compromise has been achieved. We listen to this new-fangled stuff called Podcasts. Bill Mahr and other wonderful guys entertain us and educate us. Over the month of so we’ve listened to why religion is totally redundant, and how stupid the Boston bombers were and now the son has graduated to history lessons. I know more of the history of Anabaptists and Ghenghis Khan than I ever did. And guess what? I don’t even have to write an exam on them!
But then music, I miss the music …
I listen to 9XM and stuff like that when I work out. It never disappoints. The beats are so much exercise and pump up the adrenaline kind of stuff.
Until now …
Now we have Babaji Ki Booti and another one called
Raat hai ik whore
Ye maange more
To lut ja slowly slowly
I am willing to experiment … ya think stretches can be done to these tunes?
