It's sad to know you've gone through it all, or most of it, without… that the one body you'v wrapped your arms around, the only skin you've ever known, is your own… and that's it's dry, and not warm. -Edward Albee
I am half way through reading Looking for Palestine: Growing Up Confused in an Arab-American Family by Najla Said. I haven't been able to read much in recent times except internet la di dah. What an amazingly evocative extraordinary memoir Najla. Sorry it took me so log [sic] to get around….I write this, before finishing the book, in case lightning strikes me again very quickly, or or or….the unbearable lightness of being…. And I want to listen again to the BBC Proms musicalization…
You are/should be an inspiration to so so so many folk. Both male and female!
Here's some interval music. Of course, it's my choice, so what constitutes interval music to me means far more than its nomenclature:
Am I allowed an LP for my Desert Island Disc? BBC? Well: this is on the 'A' side (if an LP could have an A side)- always ahead of my time DVD -what is all this newfangled nonsense….:
A triumph for me in recent years, reading let alone finishing two books in one week. In tandem with Najla Said's memoir was Johann Hari's Lost Connections. It couldn't be a more perfect double bill if you tried! I am so use to watching cinematic quadruple bills, but words…? I listened again to composer David Robert Coleman's Looking for Palestine (inspired by a Najla Said incident) that was performed at the BBC Proms. If I hadn't read Najla's memoir would all have seemed different? Yes, maybe.
When I listened live to that Proms performance (streaming wwide for a month-Sept 14) there was a fierce thunderstorm so needs rescue my dryd washing. (Often, I gets the 'badsmell' under-the -breathe put down, and have done for decades. Maybe I should become a street-person:) That's not so funny, but u-know-what-I-mean.)
First instincts are usually right: the soprano's diction really wasn't that good. It might not have been such an issue had the piece not been so intrinsic to Najla Said's words. And if one wants to criticize balance, the piece is based on but one description in dozens upon dozens in Najla's memoir, most if not all of which is so ironical and sadly funny.
Najla was beach-ing on Tyre on the Tuesday. Israeli bombing began the Wednesday. She quotes a friend (in the memoir) who drole-ly notes what a difference a day makes. That wasn't in the musical text, was it? Should have been. So should have Najla's undying curiosity and optimism in a musical score!
What is the definition of ironic is that if David Robert Coleman hadn't composed the Proms piece, I would probably not have laid down to read Najla Said. I'm really a movie groupie (and moonlight in art) and if anything reading always seemed a chore. Not this week. And, hopefully not the next week either: the world indeed works in mysterious ways.
So infectious about Johann Hari's Lost Connections and Najla Said's memoir is how close they are to presenting if not a solution then a way ahead. You do not have to be 'anything', Israeli/Lebanese/Palestinian/Turlish [sic] ! to connect with Najla Said. Youthful Johann Hari was on anti-depressants and eating forms of commercialized chicken (I loved it too…disclaimer) that a chicken wouldn't own up to (unless I guess on antibiotics;) !
It's the specificity of both Najla's memories and Johann Hari's experience and thence research that make the connection. You are not alone. It isn't something that anyone could/should wish for: you will always be an 'outsider'. But that 'outsider-ship' will bring one courage, support. Will find you a life.
tbc...tonight: not 'tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow:) ! Was jumpin' up and down like a bag a' beans about to be tarrified yesterday and now feel dreadful. What happened? Making copious notes for my Valerian friends...:) In joke.....
I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die.
