A touch of wine, a touch of jazz

A touch of wine, a touch of jazz, and all of a sudden I become amorous lover of all that I see and everyone in my life, and I long, with the most vivid hurts-so-good nostalgia, for that one love, that love, who trails back in the mist of time’s wake; that love that made me believe (we all have one).  “I’ll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places…”.  It sings, it all sings.  Somehow, the bland, whitebread, quotidian, passion-listless, logic robotics of this town are transformed, transported, transmuted–by song–into the most charming, fluttery black and white film.

All the cliches become real again.  I walk home the streets, a character whose highs and lows-whose victories and longings-are not in vain. They are not lonely, they are romantic, for I now have an emotionally attached audience waiting, watching, vested, right there with me, in my story–every step. I too start to see and remember the story (that it is a story and quite a story) right along with them.  I walk home honest, believing in the emotion that I carry right there and then, believing it to be an integral movement to the story, I immerse myself in it with reverent, unapologetic indulgence, I enjoy  it, whatever its charge…I am he, I am the character, fully, I am the moment, un-conflicted, finally.  

Thank you music for the power to awaken our hearts and to seduce our logic into sweet powerless surrender to feeling.  Thank you for your magic ability to dress, coat, reality in a certain feel to accentuate its infinite expressions and everywhere significance.  

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