Brief Sounds

Some years ago, in the magazine Rolling Stone, I read a review of Bob Dylan’s album Blood on the Tracks.  In it, the writer spoke of the song “Tangled Up in Blue” and said that it “borders on the metaphysical of how lost love haunts lives”.

That statement, powerful in its truth and simplicity, sums up the gift that music has given humankind for thousands of years: its ability to elicit an emotional response. 

I’ve listened to music all of my life, and been moved emotionally by many songs and music pieces.  Never has one compelled me to sit down and write about it as this one has.  It is a song called “Brief Sounds”, written and performed by the Los Angeles-based singer/songwriter Kris Angelis. 

“Brief Sounds” perfectly captures the angst and heartbreak of a relationship.  Ms. Angelis’ lyrics are powerfully emotional and moving in its storytelling.  To borrow the line from the Rolling Stone review, this song borders on, and perhaps dwells in, the metaphysical in telling its story.  It is, simply put, a beautiful song.

From the very first line, you, the listener, are made a part of and feel the emotion of the storyteller:

“I felt so high, but I was shy

then you turned dry

and I wet my life

with tears I cried

you always liked drama.”

In this song, the storyteller is deeply, madly, and passionately in love with someone, but the other person doesn’t totally return that love, neither was the other person honest.  The other person didn’t want to commit their heart to the relationship, or saw it as a relationship of convenience, or used the relationship with the storyteller as a means to attract someone else.  The storyteller comes to realize this, and shares her pain with us through the music and words.

The most emotional lines in the song, ones that resonate with me and with anyone who loved someone in the way the storyteller does, are these lines - told by the storyteller at a point when she realizes that it isn’t going to work, but she still has feelings for the other person.

“I looked all around for you,

so I could pretend

that I didn’t care

that you were there.

Your lies were made of fear

and my hope was made of pain

gotta wipe away the memories

so I can say I’m sane.

I believed you thought that you were real

but it’s not something you can feel.”

She goes on:

“Well, I never felt your lips

would love me

let me give you a tip

there’s no manuscript

for relationships

you danced with me

and then ran the other way.

All you said we had to say

was nothing

but that’s okay

you’re not a disappointment

if nothing was expected.

Then you finally opened up

and lied to me and dealt with it

so clumsily

if you weren’t you, would you be?”

Then there’s this line, a perfect metaphor for dishonesty:

“I looked at your eyes

hadn’t seen them yet

and I realized they

can’t decide what color they are.”

“Brief Sounds” is a song is that is so powerful, and so perfect in its story of human feelings.  

Ms. Angelis is a masterful singer/songwriter, and much of her other music shares the same passion and emotion.  It’s just that “Brief Sounds” has captured a special place in my heart. 

“Brief Sounds” is here on iTunes and it is worth far more than the 99 cents to buy it.  

You can find all of her music on iTunes or at.krisangelis.com.

The desert and the sky

I've spoken about my trip to Las Vegas at the Star Trek convention there.  By far, my favorite part of the trip was not the actual convention, but in the two days after.  I've lived in Louisiana all of my life, and been fortunate to take trips out west, where there is none of the swamps, marshes and bayous that are here in south Louisiana.  Out west are the most beauiful places, the mountains and the wide open desert.  The desert, the endless and lonely expanse, is such a beautful place.  So, when I was in Las Vegas, I knew I had to drive out and see the Nevada desert.  The last full day I was there, Tuesday, I drove in a wide loop, hundreds of miles, around Nellis Air Force Base and and the infamous "Area 51".  It was such a beautiful drive and the desert was magnificent.  I've lived all of my life in the cities, with hundreds of thousands of people, their automobiles, the traffic and noise.  It was a religious experience, to go to such a desolate and lonely place.  I'd park the car, get out, and just marvel at the desert and the sky.

The night sky is something that is a bit of a letdown, here in Louisiana.  Even in Plaquemine, which is fifteen miles away from Baton Rouge, the light pollution is so bad that even on the clearest nights, only a few stars are visible.  On my drive, I took a side trip down the road that goes to Death Valley.
By then it was ten or eleven o'clock at night.  About ten miles or so down the road, I stopped the car, turned off the lights and looked at the night sky.  The stars were out by the thousands, so may such that I couldn't find the regular constellations.  I hadn't seen the Milky Way in many years, and there it was, meandering across the night sky.

Among the hardest things I've had to do was to leave Nevada and come back to this place.  Soon, very soon, I will be able to leave Louisiana permanently and go live someplace where the earth sweeps to the horizon and the sky is alive with the stars and planets.

It was nice, but . . .

I've come back from the Star Trek convention in Las Vegas.  The big one.  Thousands of fans were there, and almost a hundred Star Trek actors and other people that worked on the show or wrote books. It was something I've always wanted to do, and finally had the chance.  I went as a TNG-era Klingon for two days and a TOS-era Klingon for the other two.  It was a surreal experience, meeting all of the people that have been a part of my Trek experience for many years.  Some, like Jonathan Frakes, Michael Dorn, Dominic Keating and Connor Trineer, I've wanted to meet for many years and finally did.  Others, like Kate Mulgrew, Marc Alaimo, Andrew Robinson and Jeri Ryan, don't go to many conventions, if at all, so meeting them was even more of an extraordinary experience.  I can say, that to a person, all of the Trek actors were wonderful to talk to and seemed to appreciate the opportunity to meet their fans.

Ah, the fans.  To say that my uniform, which I thought was pretty good, was merely adequate at this convention, would be an understatement.   There were so many people who looked like they just stepped off of a set of a Trek television episode or movie.  They must have spent hundreds of hours working on their costume and were rightly recognized for it.

That being said, next year is the 50th anniversary of Star Trek, and the convention is going to be the biggest and best Trek convention there every was. I won't be going.  I had a great time at the convention, but the crowds, the pace, and the atmosphere were so overwhelming.  It just isn't as fun as going to the smaller conventions.  Don't get me wrong.  I'm glad I went and would have kicked myself had I never gone to the Vegas Trek convention in my lifetime.  It's just not for me.

Empty

For almost 20 years, I would go over to Michelle's house.  I would climb the steps to the porch, greet Sammie and Pankie in one cage, William in the other, and open the door to the middle room to say hello to Mazie.  If it was the morning, I'd hook up Agatha, say hello to Tinker and Colette (if she was around) and go upstairs.  I'd say hello to Miss Emily and Lucy and if it was before Michelle was sick, I would wake her up and take Sailor out for a walk.  After Michelle was sick, I'd let her sleep while I walked Sailor and did the morning stuff.  I'd look around, in each room, at all of the familiar furniture and things.

Now, her house is empty.  The executors and their crews have cleaned out all of the rooms.  I don't know what they did with the books and other things that can be salvaged. It wasn't something I could handle, so I let them dispose of it as they wished. Most of the stuff was thrown away, I think.  I kept many things that were sentimental.  Candles, some clothing, some dishes, photographs, the vase and flowers of the last dozen roses I brought her, maybe some other things. Everything else is gone.  It looks like they are replacing the electrical outlets, and the workers went into the attic.  I haven't any idea what was up there, and I don't think Michelle knew, either.  They probably won't tell me and I won't ask.  

As I walked through the empty rooms in her empty house, I realized that the sadness probably won't ever go away.  It might shrink until it occupies some tiny lobe in the memory cortex of my brain, but I'll see something or hear something and then the memories will come back.  What will happen to her house?  Again, I probably won't ask and they probably won't tell me.  It was best, to let them handle it.  Just to have those memories, those times we spent together, is a nice thing.

William

This is William.  All of our cats are special, aren't they, but he has a wonderful story behind him. 

About five years ago, he showed up in my friend Michell’s yard as a teenage kitten. He was a friendly kitten and, as soon as he was old enough, we got him neutered. One day, a few months after that, we saw that he was lethargic and his tail was dragging the ground.  We took him to the vet immediately, who told us that he had been attacked or was in an accident.  Somehow, he sustained an injury to his backside that made it where he couldn’t go to the bathroom by himself anymore. The vet showed us how to make him go - the veterinary term is "express" him.  So, for five years, twice a day, we “tag-teamed” and helped him do his business. 

Last fall, Michell passed away.  The vet gave me tips on expressing him myself, which I learned to do.  After Michell passed way, I and her friends found good homes for Michell's other cats, except for William.  William would be difficult to place, and I let the others know that I could find room for him at my house if things didn't work out.  

My friend, Jim, did finally find a home for William, but after a few in-home visits, Jim thought that it would be best for William to live with me. Although I already had four cats, I was happy to see have him come live with me, and I think he was, too.  

Anyone who knows cats knows that, for most cats, the belly is a "hands-off"place. This would seem to be even more so, for the person that has to not only touch the belly but also squeeze it.  From the beginning, and even while I've had to do it myself, William has been nothing but a wonderful cat about the whole thing. For all that  I have to put him through, he is such a cheerful, wonderful, loving cat. His favorite thing is for me to lie down and he gets on my chest and usually curls up to go to sleep.  Pets bring so much into our lives, and every second I spend with this wonderful cat, this endlessly cheerful and loving cat, makes my life that much better. 

Ak'voh

I am a huge Star Trek fan.  There are moments and scenes in all five of the live television shows in the series that are incredibly emotional.  This is one of them, and its relation to an event in my life. This scene is from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine episode "The Ship".  In this episode, there is a conflict between a character, Miles O'Brien and Worf, a Klingon.  On an away mission, O'Brien's friend, Muniz, was injured and slowly bleeding to death.  Worf tells O'Brien that Muniz will not recover and should prepare for death. O'Brien vehemently disagrees, saying that Muniz should keep fighting. Muniz eventually dies.  The away team is recovered, along with Muniz's body.  In the last scene of the show, O'Brien is sitting in the cargo bay, with Munoz's casket, telling him stories. Worf enters.

WORF: I did not mean to interrupt.

O'BRIEN:  It's all right.

WORF:    You are performing Ak'voh... for your friend.

O'BRIEN:  I am?

WORF: (nodding)  An old Klingon tradition. When a warrior dies in battle, his comrades stay with the body to keep away predators. That allows the spirit to leave the body when it is ready for the long journey to Sto'Vo'Kor.

O'BRIEN:  A fine tradition.

Worf nods and takes a seat next to O'Brien.

O'BRIEN:  What are you doing?

WORF:   We shall both keep the predators away.

My father passed away in the hospital.  After he died, they removed all of the tubes and breathing apparatus and left him to lie peacefully on the bed.  My mother, brother and I gathered around him, waiting to see what happened next.  Would they take him to the morgue?  Would the funeral home come to pick him up?  I'd like to think we were performing ak'voh.  We kept him safe  until his spirit left his body and made the long journey to his equivalent of Sto'Vo'Kor, where I know it arrived safely and he will live forever.  I know I will see him again, someday.

(from "Star Trek: Deep Space Nine", episode "The Ship", teleplay by Hans Beimler, story by Pam Wigginton and Rick Cason)