Sheer Goodness

As March trudges to its weary conclusion I'm brought to life by the smell of the Missus's patented Oxtail Soup wafting outside our apartment and circulating to the staircase. I'm outside now, but I'll be inside and dealing with the said soup in around about an hour. Which means that all is good in this little corner of the world.

On The Edge

Nearly suffered a major attack of cramp just now as I was doing my bit on the trainer in the gym. Fortunately I was able to ease the muscle in my left leg as I was pedalling enough to avoid what would have been a bit of a catastrophe. Never had this problem before - but I suspect I'll have it again at some point, and might not be so lucky. Such is progress.

In Tune

Time spent with the Maestro Ennio Morricone is time well spent. The six minutes plus of Una Lucertola Con La Pelle Di Donna (La Lucertola) were the highlight of the day for me, and I haven't even a clue what the title means.

When I first started really getting into Morricone I thought the recording techniques available to him back in the day put some kind of limitation on his work. I've come to understand how his extraordinary musical imagination exploited the constraints such that he created a wonderfully flexible language out of them.

More Than Strictly Necessary

Got myself to the gym this evening to do the necessary. The necessary, by the way, comprises three visits a week, completing a 50 minute session each time. This is based on a recommendation I read somewhere, sometime that 150 minutes of exercise per week is the basis of good health. Of course, I have no idea if this is really the case, but a target is a useful thing, especially when you feel very lazy indeed, as I did earlier. Dragging oneself to the gym isn't pleasant, but it's better than just sitting around - at least in retrospect.

And there can be unexpected advantages in getting moving. On the way this evening I was treated to an extraordinarily beautiful moon, just above the horizon. It looked twice as big as usual, though one corner was slightly obscured by a bank of cloud. It's a pity that Noi wasn't around to share the sight: the odd thing about seeing something as beautiful as this when she's with me is the sense that sharing the sight makes it ten times as gorgeous. The maths of this is a bit odd, and I've learnt not to question it.

By the time I was making my way back the moon had risen in the sky and was smaller though brighter. Not quite full, I thought. That was when it struck me that all this beauty, splendid as it was, seemed somehow in excess of what was strictly necessary. But I'll happily take what's so generously on offer.

Discarded

There are few sights sadder than that of a face-mask left lying on a restaurant table. With the crumbs and drink stains.

Just saying. (Not so hygienic, either.)

Planning

It's just over two weeks to the beginning of the fasting month and I've just listed the Islamic-themed reading I intend to carry out in Ramadhan. That might seem a bit of an odd thing to do, but I've come to understand the profound importance of intentionality, especially in relation to my experience of the holy month. Writing the titles of the various texts - all re-reads, by the way - certainly served to whet my appetite, but I'm not intending to jump the gun. Actually, I'm keen to complete Jan Montefiore's cunning compilation of Kipling's short stories before fasting begins, but progress is slow in that direction.

As a kid I used to race through the four books my library ticket entitled me to take out. Those days are long gone, I'm afraid. Which makes me wonder whether listing four books for Ramadhan was such a good idea. Well, we'll see.

No Jacket Required

It occurred to me just now, as I was hanging a pair of trousers ahead of work tomorrow, that it's been 36 years since I last purchased a jacket. A happy thought, eh?

Something Found

Got back into the swing of things today by devoting a good (very good!) 45 minutes or so to highly devoted listening to sweet sounds. First up, I revisited Crimso's brilliant Larks Tongues in Aspic - Part IV which I haven't listened to in yonks. I suppose this neglect is related to the fact that I'm not exactly comfortable with the production on The Construkction of Light even though I love the material therein. But the strange thing was that this time I found the electronic drums enhanced the track for me. The mechanical, industrial quality felt exactly right. (I suspect I'll change my mind next time round and find myself yearning to get hold of the re-mixed The Reconstrukction of Light which I'm told features Pat Mastelotto on real drums, replacing his earlier electronic set.) (Actually, I love Pat's drumming no matter what he's using.)

It strikes me as a good notion, by the by, to break any musical fast with something from the mighty Crim. So that stands as my wise advice for today, Gentle Reader.

Something Missing

I was vaguely aware of something about today that didn't feel quite right. Then I realised: it's been a day without music, and there isn't enough time to rectify the situation. Pretty bleak, eh? It's a good job that there'll be a tomorrow, God willing.

Overrun

Of late we've been happily overrun by various colourful cats, of the Missus's concoction. They feature on a bedspread she's making for Fafa and the sight of them makes me unaccountably cheerful.

Observing the careful assembling of the feline bedspread has made me hyper-aware of just how much creative juice goes into fabrics, and the beauty of the results. I don't think I've ever been quite so aware of what can be done with combinations of colour and how glorious it is when the combinations turn out to be just perfect.