The Sea: An exercise in simplicity.

While studying, Charles Trenet’s La Mer  came on the radio. I had to drop my pen, sit back and close my eyes. I knew the English translation and I also know it meant more than what it says. A bittersweet melody. Behind my eyelids, in my mind’s eye memories fall like feathers. Monochrome movies, a tavern by the seaside and wind blowing in from the windows, and the scent of soap. I remember rainy days and reading about Harry, Ron and Hermione when I’d read all over the house to be at peace with my thoughts. A simple song can be a key to memories so precious that I’d tuck them away for safe keeping, tucked away so well that I’d nearly forgot.

This was an exercise I participated in one of my tutor group’s discussions. the topic was simplicity, saying more with less. The best thing is pulling work from memory, like I did here. We had to comment, or “self reflect” on our pieces, which was refreshing because though I’d usually make comments at the back of my mind while writing and editing (ohmygods I now realize I’ve been doing a crap job at that) I never actually pay attention. Hope you liked it.

On a side note, La Mer literally translate from French to The Sea but some of you might be familiar with the English version, Somewhere beyond the sea (listen to the Bobby Darrin, Robbie Williams and Kevin Spacey versions!), while still charming loses some meaning from the original, according from comments on YT.


Devina ;)


Random stuff time.

Let me tell you a thing, I suck at interaction sometimes and this would mostly apply to blogging and visiting blogs. So when I say I am so grateful for all the visits this here humble virtual abode of mine got in my absence, I mean this with all my heart. I have one or two other excuses, of course. Thank you, gracias, merci, grazie! I can’t imagine why you guys stick around.

I’ve hit some sort of wall that I’m finally scaling at a creeping pace (if that makes sense) and my computer is still acting up even after the check up I got done and I’ve got to start saving up for a new one soon, and apparently I think better, or should say more, when I type as opposed to writing (except for poetry, though).

I’ve been drowning myself in music, more than the usual anyways. I’ve gotten into Radiohead quite a bit, “Body Snatchers” hooked me. Um then I discovered Redbone, The Archies and got an eyeful (haha) earful of “Hang on Sloopy” by The McCoys. Sort of a longish list, really. Also electro swing, ugh, such curvaceous sound waves.

I feel my attention slipping away already and I hate that. I hate that I want to write things but I end up feeling that I don’t follow through. I feel disappointed in my self yet I understand why … but still. I drive myself insane with contradicting tendencies, it almost makes sense.

I want to leave you jazz cats with this Continue reading

The music this week #2

This week is ending on high nerves and sweet depression. Music usually helps a lot, that’s why I can’t go a day without listening, it’s like a light in the darkness. I’m all for the older decades so some of these won’t surprise you. Here’s what’s been on my radio waves:

It’s Friday and fortunately for them they’re in love. Not me. I am a solitary soul and love is a dream.

I find that I liked the German version better. This translates to 99 Red balloons but I read somewhere that it’s actually ‘Air’ Balloons. I think the change was for political reasons, air balloons and the war, or I could be reading into it wrong. Nena’s voice has this breathy tone and I think it went well with the hard groovy beats. My family has gotten used to my dancing madly to this by now.

Need I say anything? This is sweet! I realize that the music change with the times and influences but I do wish there were more songs like this these days.

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The music this week (Whovians, you’ll want to see the last one!)

Music is important to my soul. There’s not a day that goes by that I haven’t heard that sweet concoction of sounds. Even if it’s only the wind. I thought it might be nice to compile some of the new music I’ve discovered for the week or the ones that kept on echoing in my mind. In no particular order:

What it is – Mark Knopfler  (or click here)

Heart of glass – Blondie (or here too)

Now this is a jem! Whovians brace yourselves! (HERE! DAVID TENNANT IN HIS DANCING SHOES)

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I’m a brown eyed girl

It makes me happy to hear songs about brown eyes. I’m not complaining but there has been much more emphasis on blue eyes, followed by the even more rare lovely green hues. Perhaps I haven’t been listening to the right music, or the DJ on the radio is a bit biased, or maybe brown eyes are too common to write anything about. Thank goodness for Jango, I heard this song on the Sunshine Radio and I am liking it very much. Hope it’s mutual ;) If not, oh well , that’s no problemo!

P.S: If you’re thinking of checking out Sunshine radio (or any one, really), you must remember to do this one important thing; boogie woogie! Dance, people.


Shimmy and shake for it’s still a good day in the little ways and one needs to celebrate the simpler things in life, bright memories for the bad times ahead.



P.P.S: If you like Ellen like I do, check this jem out!

Soul food, regrets, disjointed thoughts

Beethoven Symphony No. 3 – Full Length – Complete 3rd Symphony. Max McBride conducting Sydney Youth Orchestra

This morning I was searching for a list of music played in that 2009 movie, The Soloist, starring Robert Downy Jr. and Jamie Foxx. I’m still reeling from it, there’s till so much to think about. There were three factors that made me watch it: the cello, Beethoven and RDJ. No regrets. I want to ask something of you, my anonymous friend, listen to the music. Not the whole thing if you don’t want to but just a few minutes. Let it sink into you, let it soothe you to peace.

This piece … it blew me away, not only how skillfully this remarkable orchestra brought to life but by the fact that this band of musicians consisted mostly, or should I say, entirely of youths whose passion Continue reading

Takes me back …

Music is to the ears as books are to the eyes; a pleasing trickle, a stimuli. Both affect the mind, and the place where they converge is a spark of magic amidst the tangles of neurons and soggy grey matter; fertile soil where the seeds of learning and inspiration not only grows but flourishes.

I got this brain wave while listening to Patience by AnZan at a gentle volume at 2 AM while reviewing maths for class later that day. Though I’m sure I haven’t heard it way back then, it reminds me of a clear moonlit night in the Hundred Acre Wood way deep in the dusty attic of my memory. Thinking back now, this song post dated the show. A friend told me the song reminds her of Christmas, I’m perfectly happy to claim my one as my own.

Let me tell you some more about that early morning breather. The crickets were chirping a soft and steady lullaby close by a stream, I could hear the water tricking down and away. My mind conjures a picture of Pooh Bear and Piglet stretched on their backs counting the stars, sometimes silently but often aloud, as a distant song of a flute sings the land to sleep. Continue reading

First love

via Pinterest

Who’s your first love the girls ask me

Music, said I

The boy isn’t worth the mention

I cringe at the memory

How pathetically stupid I was

But the sweet sound of music

Has always been there for me

It gives me wings to fly

To soar at the peak of a high note

When I feel lost and deprived of joy

It gives me hope with every beat

Truth be told,

Air drumming has prevented shiners

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Sometimes all we need to do is reflect

When life gets rough, when the morning sunlight feels as if it burns my skin and my brain tricks me into thinking that I’ve become a vampire, when time seems to be non existent and especially those times when I stop believing in myself, contemplating my worthlessness to my family, myself and the world – I need to pause. I need hot chocolate. I need Steve and Jon.

It’s then when I have to clear my mind and try to reach down and find that place inside me, my inner peace, that’s been shoved deeper and deeper down until I can’t feel it anymore and I become more vulnerable to the constant stream of slithering and heavy chaos.

I need to remind myself of the things I live for, the things and people that are worth living for. To remember that there are more good than evil, that there will be another good day. I have a lot to give, I want to affect people, to make someone’s life better, I want to be the cause of someone’s smile. I want to make my life count for something. Up to now this post might have led you to believe I’m depressed, I am often but right now I’m stressed and mad at myself. The best thing for me is to listen to music, The Piano Guys do it for me.

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Lake in the woods

This is my bit for last week’s Picture It and Write! photo challenge brought to you by Ermilia Blog. I’ve read some very well written entries for this one and most were tragic in one way or another, the photo surely inspires such trains of thought but my mind tends to veer in the other direction. Shall we follow and see where it leads?


via Ermilia Blog

They say around, the way you’ve asked for me. There’s even talk of you wanting me … I need to know, oh baby girl, I need to know … wondering if you’re gonna take me there … it’s getting harder not to think of you … If it’s true don’t leave me alone out here … tell me what you’re feeling … I need to know … I need to know … I need to know … … …

The Latino beats were ripples in my blood, growing into giant waves of a jittery high that crashed inside me as I moved in time, as my limbs interpreted the lively, seductive rhythm. The music, the dance, the heat of it. It was like a fever in my veins but I was going to out scorch it, I’ll be damned if I didn’t. My skin was slick with exertion, breaths left and entered my lips in sharp rushed bursts. I felt on fire as I twirled on the tips of my toes in my ballet pumps, my shoulders got into it, my arms had a mind of their own. I conjured him here with me, my shadow prince in my dreams. His handsome features hidden under a mask of midnight, how I longed to see beneath it.

I threw my head back, eyes closed, as the blare of the trumpets swept me away, my hips swayed with the delicious spicy beats. I imagine his hand closing around my waist, the other one taking possession of my wrist pulling me closer and away. I grit my teeth as I stepped up my pace. Feeling more that a bit wanton in this snatched moment, no rules, no delicate movements here like what was demanded of me in the studio, but still graceful as the Black Swan. My body was free, mine to manipulate.

“Marie? Are you still up?” my mother called from the front door. Crap. I came to a halt. He faded once again to nothingness, smoke chased away by the cold wind of reality that strode in after the woman who insisted on its constant presence. I hurried over to cut Mark Anthony off in the middle of the chorus in time to hear her keys drop with a feint clatter in the bowl on the coffee table. She didn’t consider this music of quality. I love Mozart and his lot, don’t get me wrong, but tame music all the day long never did a body any good. I wonder, though, if Mark was loud enough for her to have heard him.

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