Archives for March 2017

Intentional Disdain and the Bellweathers of Beckoning.

The band was a legend and not without reason. It still is.

Their songs lived on, they still do.

Hardly an elevator trip, a wedding reception dance, a rally – with a music boost opening, hardly any went by without the oh-so-familiar tune, lyrics and strange cross-rhythms of one of their songs.

IDaBB became part of the language of familiarity, the great introduction to so many first and subsequent meetings of friends and familiar faces. The Esperanto of musical message and benevolence.

Do you know them? Or, do you know another you would nominate, who’d fit the same description?

There! I hear another song, once again!

The telephone rang and I noticed it was one of the old ones, the type you had to turn the dial all the way round to the number you chose to select.

In the hall outside the room with the telephone, was a large chair which made anyone who sat in it seem small, almost childlike. 
There’s nothing to see here,  said the person who answered the phone. 

There were two abstract paintings in the entrance hall. They prompted  many discussions about the meaning of these masterpieces.  One was a yellow square on a blue circle, the other was white… a blank canvas.

Friendships were made as a direct result of these paintings and the search for their meaning.

Sitting or standing?

Propped against the wall like an old hunter’s rifle, they watched the group sitting cross-legged by the fountain.

The grinding sound was a fresh blend of coffee being prepared from the first crop ever grown in Iceland. Grown in a cafe humidor – a massive glass dome inside which was a mild and breezy semi-tropical climate.

In these days rice was as likely to grow in New York as on the rice terraces of Banaue or the southern provinces. 

Flexibility is not only about stretching and exercising muscles, it is about thought and flexing the thinking spheres. 

After the rice dish they had coffee.

Almost good and the sun rose. 

Wanted the best, trying for that ethereal perfection that floats atop mystic mountains on misty days full of dripping mystery.

Move us. Transport us with your stories of a life lived on the way to here, to this place,  this morning.

When the egg is boiled and the carrots no longer conceal the key to golden roads and twisted chocolates, we are all complete.

One task. One victory. Immense satisfaction.

Infuriating. But then, it really wasn’t. Laughter instead. 

The bathrooms were scented with spring flowers from Vermont. 

The tables were decorated with vases from Venice, Italy – not Venice in California (even though they do have vases!). 

Sometimes the sub heading makes more of the title than anything you could imagine.

Oh, I’m so sorry, not more than anything you could imagine….but you know what I mean. 

Let’s meet for a Jamaican coffee and a Viennese pastry (gluten-free), later?