Friday, 3 January 2014

Such a cold game

First day of work of the new year. Gosh, it sucks to be back.
Christmas holidays are somewhat stressful; there's always too much food and alcohol, family dramas, tension with people to meet, yet it's also a relaxing time made of lots of nice small things: lazily wandering around the house; catching up with my pocket list of article to read and reading some pages off the books scattered around the flat; taking pictures of my knitting projects (and also knitting them!); meeting with friends for a coffee, some row of stockinette stitch and an exhibition.

This morning was quite stressful for me; after having breakfast, it dawned on me that, like it or not, delusional as never before, there was no way out: I had to work.

And so I did: I crashed against reality, dusted myself and the laptop off and worked the whole day.
It went better than I expected: I struggled here and there, keeping up the attention at detail was a bit tough but made it at the end.

Some time after lunch, I fixed myself a nice cup of tea and awarded myself a 10 minutes break of pure idleness.
Every time the end of a vacation break approaches, I start thinking about past holidays and end up planning the next one. Call it self-defense, but nothing helps overcoming the gloominess of impending commuting with the crap Milan underground than planning my next escape.

My mum had found the Japan guide I bought a couple of years ago and left it on my her desk. I was browsing through the guide, more and more convinced that Far East is probably an area I should return this year (or very soon anyway), when a familiar tune started playing.

Last year found me not very inclined to listening to new music, my soundtrack was more set in the past.
Yet here and there I managed to discover something new and so, so, so good to listen to.
I didn't do it on purpose though.

As most of the best things in life, it happened by pure chance: one second too late or too early and I would have missed it.
It happened in Melbourne: it was raining and Sevan and I were in Fitzroy. After browsing around a seemingly endless strip of stationery shops (seriously, Melbourne is the world capital of stationery shops), we decided to check some vinyl stores. I ended up buying "Stan meet Chet", an album by Stan Getz and Chet Baker. The guy at the counter gave us the address of some other stores we could go and one was just few blocks down the road.
And off we went. I didn't buy anything in this second store but when we were about to leave, I heard a nice tune; as we were almost at the door I didn't feel like going back in to the counter and I went for the quick and dirty solution: I shazam'ed it on the go.

The name of the track quickly appeared on my phone, alongside a nice link to the iTunes store.
"Why not?" I asked myself: I listened to the short sample of the song and then to another sample from the album.
That was it. I bought the whole album. I just fell in love: with the recording, with the singers voices, with everything in general.
I had just discovered Myron & E and bought "Broadway" (recorded with the Finnish band Soul Investigators).

If I ever paid attention to record reviews, back in the days when I used to buy music magazines, I might have actually been able to write down what draws me into their songs. Alas, by the time I got to the reviews page I was already bored out of my wits and those short articles written with way too tiny fonts were always sacrificed and left unread and forgotten. So, now, many years later, every time I try to describe what a record is about, how it sounds and where its appeal lies, I just find I lack the words to say so.
My break was over anyway: I decided to postpone the musings to later in the evening and go back to work, but the situation hasn't improved and I haven't found the words yet.

All I can do is snap my fingers, tap rhythmically on the keyboard and sing along; and wonder how it'd feel to have the possibility of spending more time on this kind of activities: writing, wondering about music and words, thinking about travels...
Living an extended holiday without the stress of it, I guess.
A bit of wishful thinking is on the roll here and I smile about it and about my own delusional self.
Life, pretty much like love, is such a cold game as Myron & E are singing to me right now.
And I'm alright with it, at least for tonight: I'll just keep their record on repeat for a little longer.


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