Let's call it Acapella Friday. It started with a visit to my professor who handed me what seemed like a hundred books. After one weary look at the amount of readings I have accumulated in just 2 days, I quickly decided I'm doing anything but reading them on my free Friday (a rare phenomenon). Of course, being the dedicated procrastinator I am, I had to find something to do which could never- not ever- get any work done. What comes most naturally in these cases is singing, or sometimes if luck holds, writing.

I decided to get into business with a Paul McCartney song I heard just a couple days back from my friend Annie (graceful people call her Ananya). I have a thing for jazzy vocals. Paul McCartney's voice flows into the romantic corner of your mind like a meandering stream on its way to the river- slow but sure (leave my brain alone, hydrology!). After one failed attempt at trying it out in my still-shaky morning voice, I realized there is no way on earth I can sound like a 70-year old maestro. I gave up and closed my eyes and just sang.

So here's to my valentine!



Now that I was officially in the mood, I searched around for other bits of inspiration. There, lying squat on the floor right beside the table, was my 20th Century Poetry & Poetics. It's there because I was reading that poem by Galway Kinnell once again last night. Galway Kinnell, who seems almost as fascinated by the animals of the wild as with his own mind, just makes my night. Every time I read that poem it reminds me of a Regina Spektor song, where another loner- although he claims a thousand faces, I see that of a loner's- entertains himself with the company of his window-moon. I can perfectly picture the long dinner conversations with his moon and his animals. Then I shiver when I see my face there. One among the thousand. I am horrible at reciting, and what with my weird accent and runaway speeds, poems are better read with my eyes than with my tongue. But the morning was bright, the house blessedly quiet and lonely. I picked the first and last stanza of the rather long poem. The quiet company of the animal and the longing for the human...




There now. I've started singing Regina. I've never been known to stop at one. So I decided to bring back the jazz and sing a song I sing these days without even thinking about it. I'm surprised I never recorded it before. The song is called Rejazz. Just perfect for the morning.



The clock still strikes midnight and noon. Noon. Noon. Where has my morning gone?

The toughly scheduled final exams are right up my nose, which means I'm doing everything except studying at the moment.
This song has been in one corner of the House soundtrack folder, and I've never really listened to it closely. I pulled it out yesterday and since then I've been listening to it endlessly. Had to give it a try today.

Life is hard on me right now (not for the exams). But well, I don't remember asking for perfect.
And...there's always hope, if nothing else!



I'll whine, but I'll wait.

~ Symphony