Sometimes I have difficulty getting to sleep at night. Thoughts continue to crowd my mind even after sleepy-time tea and repeated attempts at TM. Things press upon me, such as snippets of talk radio heard earlier in the day or bars of random music I remember from a week past, or last month, or years ago. While some individuals carefully compile their 'bucket list,' you know, the list of things/places/activities/meals/movies/books to be experienced prior to one's death, Peru or Bali aren't to be found on my list, nor is dining at some 5-star eatery in Paris or Madrid. I must confide that I am haunted by a particular song that I've heard only three times in my life, and I can clearly remember the time, place, and my mood at each incident. Lately I've gotten into the habit of flipping though radio-stations on internet-radio which feature disco-mixes from the 70's, this in the hope of maybe chancing upon that particular tune first heard late one star-filled night in 1980 while driving with my parents from Cancun to Chetumal (Mexico). I heard the song again in 1982 during a heated lover's quarrel on a icy-lane in a small town outside Stuttgart (Germany). And the last time I heard my 'haunted' melody was seven years ago while speeding down the interstate about an hour out of Miami; the Saturday-night DJ excitedly promised that his show's dance-tracks were the best this side of heaven, and I still believe this to be true.
My friend Andy once said that within each of us there exists two songs: one, our heart-beat, and the other is a call-song--a calling as such, that connects us with everything that we construct as the outer-world, and both must remain unbroken. A challenge faced by all, and for some, not a possibility. Sadly, he choose to leave us a few days ago; the filaments that once connected us are now almost whisper-fine, held together only by memory. Today's visual treat is dedicated to Andrew Keith Waddell (1 Apr 1960-7 Apr 2012).
PS: Today's soundtrack is Koop's Waltz for Koop