All in Music
The sunset streets unfold around me as I move towards the freeway listening to Handy Dandy and thinking about America. He has long been a favourite of mine this insouciant protagonist full of braggadocio and vulnerability in equal measure whose very name itself means simple and easy
I sat in one of my favourite LA haunts doing nothing in particular a couple of days ago. It has been an unusual few weeks; discordancy has been the Lord of Misrule.
We sped down a clear freeway this morning. The sky was bright with an unearthly translucence that was almost blinding.
It was Mr Dylan’s eightieth birthday a couple of weeks ago. It’s been an interlude where I’ve read a few truly wonderful pieces from those who love the man and his work.
The last week in May and first week in June are the prettiest time of year in Los Angeles. The jacaranda trees are in bloom and life just seems to sing.
We took to the road again last week, stealing a few days to spend together as our daughter’s piano and ballet school, The French Conservatory, was having a recital in Las Vegas.
My daughter and I headed out early this morning, a day packed with activities ahead of us. I took my usual place behind the wheel, admittedly somewhat frazzled due to all the preparations I had undertaken at a rather early hour.
I’m teaching Virgil again. It‘s hard to believe that it’s been ten years since I last taught this greatest of poets. Although the school room has turned into a kitchen table and the student is my fifteen year old son rather than a group of girls from London,
Life in the City of Dreams ebbs and flows. I was in the car one evening on the way to Inglewood I think; a drive I’ve sat through more than twice.
We are at the beach once again but it’s a different beach today. Perhaps it’s because the months have turned to December and the seasons have slid into their final movement of the year.
In the current time of loss and shrinkage of our humanity, the song of the eternal poet has been stalking my thoughts. What does he make of our intrusive silence I often wonder.
The light has been extraordinary this past week in our little quarter of Los Angeles. A pale lavender luminescence that has cast a dream like glow through us all.
