Bitch on the Blog

November 13, 2013


Filed under: Atmosphere — bitchontheblog @ 06:14
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Brought on by John I was reminded that smell is the last sense to fade. Maybe it’s because we don’t stem from monkeys but cats. And, no, this is not going to be a sentimental post on how nay to impossible it is to slip a cat a pill. It’s about music. Yes, Phil. Music.

As people get older, not me personally – I am still five, one can’t but help panic about loss of senses. Without wishing to go into specifics a couple of years ago the Angel pronounced that if one of my fears does come true: “Well, Mama, then we are BOTH fucked”. It’s the latent accountant in him: Add up, subtract, draw bottom line.

Yes, music. Compared to most people I don’t listen to music much. I find it distracting when I need to concentrate. I like silence other than incidental and necessary noises like those made by children, birds, the wind and people putting their trash out.

The Angel will sit me down and MAKE me listen. It touches me that it is so important to him to keep his mother in the now (know). Having had a classical upbringing in music – yes, my father also used to sit me down on a Sunday afternoon (and make me guess the composer) – I know the forefathers of what the Angel is doing so very well. For reasons unimportant I blended classical music out of my life for many many years. Other than the ‘accidental’ listening when cooking Sunday lunch – say, the Radio 4 programme “Desert Island Discs”.

Forget what people read. That’s just pretentious shit. And I can say this with some authority since my life is lived in and on paper. You’ll learn more about anyone by knowing what music their heart cherishes. Emphasis on ‘heart’.

Writing this whilst listening to the divine, on earphones donated to me by the Angel. What is it? HA. That’s for me to know. Intimate. Personal. Come to my funeral. You won’t hear a sermon. You’ll hear this. Take it with you. May it make you happy and cry.

Possibly – for the first time in my life – I have understood something about music. Once heard – and again and again and again – you “hear” a piece in your mind. It’s quite wonderful: You don’t actually physically need to ‘hear’. Like an ear worm it’ll play itself out in your brain. So, Sweethearts, keep listening. Might come you in good stead one day. Not least when you find yourself in prison.

As to touch and sight – we’ll come to that another time.




  1. Sundays… whilst I do other things, having listened if possible to DID, herself listens to Private Passions on Radio Three. I find it a tad oxymoronic because , once broadcast to the world, nay the universe, these passions are no longer private. That said there are some pleasant surprises…….
    Have to attend Fred’s funeral in half an hour so I will cease to bore for the moment.

    RIP Sir John Taverner.

    Comment by magpie11 — November 13, 2013 @ 13:56 | Reply

    • Taverner, indeed. 69. Can’t believe it. Still, people will die. So god damn inconsiderate. Wish I knew my deadline. Then, maybe, I’d get my skates on and do what needs to be done. Not by way of that awful concept of “bucket list”. Who cares once you are dead whether you have mounted the Kilimanjaro (one of my uncles did) but there are practical implications when you can’t tidy up after yourself any longer – yourself. If I want to give myself a panic attack – or at least a raised heart beat – that thought will do it. On which note, David: Hope you enjoy the funeral, and I will now get on with the rest of my life.



      Comment by Ursula — November 13, 2013 @ 14:12 | Reply

      • I am surprised that Taverner lived as long as he did. Apparently he suffered (as did his brother) from Marfan’s syndrome….our youngest was suspected of suffering….
        I must get on with my funeral…. sorting everything.

        I have to say that I did enjoy the funeral… a bit of god stuff but not too much, “If it is your custom would you please join in whilst we say the Lord’s Prayer?” … best of all was listening to Nat KIng Cole, “Unforgetable” as the curtain hid the coffin from view…so much better that it moving mysteriously into a hole in the wall or descendin into the bowels of the Crematorium… youngst did say that if that happens to his coffin he wants flames to lick upwards from the depths…. than we all went out to the starins of Bring me Sunshine…Fred had a wonderful sense of humour and that was his granddaughters’ choice…. I taught his son and worked with his wife and youngest was shooting at Bisley with him the day before he died….A single dove was released and both youngest and herself had vidions of someone taking a pot-shot at it. Irony. To end the day there was an amazing sunset as we came home…

        Comment by magpie11 — November 14, 2013 @ 15:20 | Reply

  2. Well U I am clearly the yin to your yang – or vice versa – when it comes to music. Not that I get it – I just enjoy it. Silence was never golden for me – I always did homework with music blaring. I wrote college papers with music blaring. I suppose somehow I sense calm in chaos – that would explain why I am handling my current situation so well. At least people keep telling me I am handling it well.

    Not sure I agree that what people read is pretentious shit. I never considered the collected works of Dana Stabenow, John D MacDonald, Robert B Parker and th elike pretentious. Most readers of what I deem to be pretentious shit deem my literary tastes not literature at all but to them I say fuggum. IMHO good mystery fiction writers are excellent chroniclers of the human condition of their time – and that’s why I like to read them. The classics? That’s a discussion for another day. Back to music.

    About that notion of hearing a piece in your mind – ain’t it the truth. Especially if it’s an irritating little ditty. And I agree – the music a person cherishes tells you a lot about them.

    Comment by shackman — November 13, 2013 @ 21:54 | Reply

    • I understand. I am certainly not saying that “silence is golden”. If it were, some of the most divine music would have never been composed.

      It’s just that – as opposed to ‘multi taskers’ – when I need to concentrate I need to concentrate. I need quiet when my brain is firing. One of the reasons I can’t begin to imagine myself in an open plan office. Other senses (say, smell) couldn’t give a monkey’s whether you need to concentrate or not. They just bring themselves to your attention. Whether you want it or not. Good thing in case of a fire or you have forgotten you were right in middle of cooking, then attending to something else. Is there anything more cursed than the smell of burnt food? Please don’t think me slovenly. It only happens twice a year. Two times too many.

      With regards to my careless remark about ‘pretentious shit’. Of course, reading is not ‘pretentious’. What I question is when people, not least bloggers, put up their reading list. Leaves me baffled. What am I supposed to do with that information? Stoop in awe? Laugh? Question the person? Run out and buy their selection to catch up? Admit to myself that I am conversing with a rather limited individual? Bow to eclectic taste? All I know that some of what’s on my bookshelf has people running for fresh air.

      I admit I don’t like it when visitors scan my bookshelves. It doesn’t exactly rival going through my underwear drawer but I still find it mildly intrusive. People will do draw conclusion. Sometimes the wrong ones. Which is why I never buy or read blockbusters – and most certainly not at an airport. I’d rather die.

      Greetings from yours not so much snobby as selective,

      Comment by Ursula — November 15, 2013 @ 13:53 | Reply

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