ONCE I WAS GONNA BE SOMEBODY

like the next J. S. Bach…now this…

…cut down mid-step just as I was reaching my stride…it’s not more than I can bear but it’s close, and neither is it more than I can endure, ditto close; I’ve become impervious to pain - I have a high threshold for it, it’s not minding the pain that counts – but of course no one has ever really tested me…I mean a Zippo to the twins makes for a whole new dynamic…

…now cellos break my heart (nice segue, huh? It’s the way of, the wont of NFTD, interjectorily, subliminally and parenthetically yours, Dear Reader for whom I have the greatest affection) but in one way or another they always have…their subtle beauty is incomparable but in the past the cellist was nameless, faceless, I only knew I liked it, then loved it, then along came over the course of many years the likes of – Pablo Casals, Jacqueline DuPre, YoYo Ma, Eugene Friesen, many others, Marston Smith, now this, my to-remain-nameless-so-as-not-to-embarrass-her Friend Wisdom is a cellist, said by none other than Judith Serkin, daughter of Rudolph, sister of Peter, and Wisdom’s tutor, to be ‘… prodigiously-talented, gifted...’

(Hold on a minute Dude will you, like man I need a friggin’ drink and that’s where I’m bound…ahhhh…that’s arguably better, temporarily better but even a little temporary relief is better than none…)

What was I holding forth and carrying on about?

O yeah, the cello and the cellist, well what can you do? My heart might break again tomorrow but I’m alright tonight. I turn to Bach for comfort, solace…I find only sadness there too…much that is beautiful is also sad, I revel in it, melancholia is my thing Dude, lachrymosa a specialty…