Three months today since I had my arms and shoulder smashed to pieces… Long enough to realise how lucky I was among the bad luck, as I was promptly assisted by the best professionals, had a tireless guardian angel by my side as the ordeal happened… and most decisively, the extent of the damage was such that it could have left me permanently incapacitated. It did not. This was confirmed to me by the doctors a while afterwards, and is such a change of perspective on things.
I am lucky in that I will likely regain most of my mobility. I’m sticking to a rigorous schedule of daily exercises, even adding some extra time beyond what has been prescribed. Most importantly, I am saving a thought for the many people I have come in contact with that have not been so fortunate: as a culture, we are so focused on “the perfect body”, and yet our social fabric is full of bodies struggling to reconquer simple movements and tasks we are used to taking for granted. I’ve seen hardship, resilience, compassion, even humour, amongst a lot of people who have been dealt so much worse than I have.
If anything, these three months have reminded me of the literal fragility of our human condition, but also presented me with shining examples of real -challenges-. Let’s cherish this word and respect it for what it signals: not a stupid soda guessing game or the like, but the sheer will of those in truly difficult situations. Me, I’m OK.
My mother sings a traditional song, originally sung in her infancy by her grandmother as they walked to the mill to bring back the flour… a Summer vacation ritual.
A lifetime ago… Prince was alive, I was living in London and @matt wood and I clubbed regularly… In the late Summer of 1998 Prince landed in London for four gigs in three days. We made it to all four… and made it to the official videos that were filmed throughout. Here I am in my glorious youth at an intimate Cafe de Paris gig, capacity 300… a revealing close-up of yours truly bobbing my head at 1:08. It all went by so quickly… the gig and the glorious London days.
Besides his incalculable contributions to the reinvention of Brazilian popular music, João Gilberto, who passed away yesterday, managed a bridge between the easy listening of Bruno Martino and the luxurious sound surgeries of Jon Hassell… Jon himself has mentioned in various instances how much Gilberto has influenced his “post-orgasmic” (his expression) approach to music performance.
We laugh because of the supposed ignorance: the Moon is part of Mars, ha ha. Meanwhile, what is really happening is no laughing matter: reality and truth are being overtly shattered and re-shaped into all kinds of forms that fit the agendas being pushed.
Brexit is essentially the same phenomenon: you provide people with an insultingly over-simplified choice, then watch as the outcome is twisted and morphed into a paradox that bulldozes any chance of ever applying wisdom into politics.
And meanwhile we teach ourselves to enjoy it all as some mutant circus show, as it is the only way for our souls to endure their own agony.