It's nice that many years later, I can continue to read new meaning in the wisdom of Porter's lyrics. "Begin the Beguine" recalls the heartsick longing that we often get when we hear songs that attach to old memories. How you'll be faced with a flood of images and sensations by merely hearing a beat, a tune, a voice. I bet Cole Porter would never have imagined that his music would have such impact in decades to come, as sung by Ella Fitzgerald blaring out of a Dell laptop.
Not that it was as good as a Porter melody, but I heard some very random sounds from outside my window today. The shrill banshee laughter of, presumably, a neighbor at a party. The percussive drumming that could only come from the rhythm section of a marching band. They were odd reminders of life being lived outside these thin apartment walls, as I continue to sequester myself in here with only books and a blog.
And then my mind traveled back, and abroad, to the time that I would lay alertly awake at night in my studio in Florence. It was bad jet lag compounded with a sort of girlish fright in being alone in a small unit of a cavernous stone building. There were many flights of stairs and no elevator, as was typical of those 16th-century edifices. It would be 4:00 am and I would always hear the loud, hollow treading of late-night Italian partygoers ascending, sometimes punctuated by drunken song and giddy conversation. I would wait for the clop-clop of their shoes to recede, before wrapping myself tightly again in the covers, urging myself to fall back asleep. And I would wonder about where they had been. How old they were. What kind of shoes they wore.
There is that same disconnect now. There's so much going on outside and so many questions I have about what they're doing. I don't remember anymore what it's like to have free time. Maybe I never really had free time, maybe none of us do, and maybe those people living outside my window are not enjoying their free time like I think they are.
On another unrelated but enormously more distressing note: I had lunch with an old classmate and some of his friends yesterday. His friends were younger college girls who have logged time mostly in beach cities. On a lark, I asked them what they thought of Ashlee Simpson. "Oh, we totally watch her show, but really just to make fun of her." I nodded with approval. And her sister? "Oh my gosh, I love 'Newlyweds'. Jessica Simpson is so cute." "Isn't she totally cute?" "And sooo funny."
And here I thought we were all in this business of celeb-mocking together. It turns out that there are people who really do watch the Simpson sisters out of admiration and not disdain. This is what J.Lo was referring to when she talked about "feeding the machine."
So don't let them begin the beguine.
Let the love that was once a fire remain an ember;
Let it sleep like the dead desire I only remember
When they begin the beguine.
Oh yes, let them begin the beguine, make them play
Till the stars that were there before return above you,
Till you whisper to me once more,
"Darling, I love you!"
And we suddenly know, what heaven we're in,
When they begin the beguine.
posted by Lucy Sloan @ 9:01 PM
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