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.