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Magnetic Fields: 50 song memoir

Everybody on earth sent me the Macca video – thanks to you all, dear friends, for thinking of me! Chris from Gabriola brought me great joy when he wrote, “I’ve never cared much about the Beatles or any one of them. I didn’t have the gene, but that carpool karaoke thing was so moving and wonderful. I was just smitten with your Paul thought the whole thing. It was a wonderful bit. I loved loved loved it.”

It makes me happy that the world is finally discovering the worth of this brilliant, unknown musician who deserves attention.

LOL

And, more happiness, the roses and clematis are showing off again.

All in all, Anna’s young guests completed 11 gorgeous pictures to send to immigrant children held in Texas – and then she persuaded her own kids to part with some of their stuffies to send too. The news continues to be mesmerizing in its hideousness; have we ever spent so much time checking to see if the planet is going to explode? A combination of Trump and social media. What a team.

Too bad it was grey and wet all weekend for the mad Pride celebrations, and today is glorious again – sweet and mild. Oh well, my gay brothers and sisters know how to party, rain or no rain.

But I myself, on the wet weekend, was fraught. Sometimes it’s like I’m in a small boat, a fragile coracle on the high seas, and I’m hanging on for dear life. There was a huge battle about the renovation plans between the woman who did the original designs and the man who’s doing the official plan to take to the city. She went berserk when she saw what he’d done, accusing him of undercutting and humiliating her because he didn’t do exactly what she intended. He said her work was not to code. I was caught in the middle as the emails flew – she is a dear friend of my dear friend John, and the guy is an expensive professional whom I don’t know, so I sided with her.

Wrong. Her work was not to code.

A whole day in a frenzy, with angry upper case messages going back and forth and me feeling sick and confused. This reno won’t start for months and already it has worn me out. More today – John came over and we sawed and smashed something to see if it supports a beam or if we can remove it. Sawing and smashing – not how I usually spend my days. And we still don’t know.

In the middle of all this, Auntie Do landed in hospital. Apparently she had a bladder infection, didn’t take her meds and didn’t eat properly, was taken to hospital by a friend, and there she remains. They have now discovered she has a fracture of her vertebrae of which she was unaware. 98 and not going quite so strong. It was good to talk to her today and remind her that Wimbledon is starting; I hope she can get it on her TV, it will keep her alive.

More Luminato the other night – “Magnetic Fields, A 50 song memoir.” Stephin Merritt is a singer/songwriter who has written a song for each year of his life, sounded like my kind of show. I should have done some research before going – it turns out he’s a cult figure, an underground musician of sorts, and the audience was full of adoring fans. I found a terrific set, a kind of memory palace jammed with old toys and interesting things and surrounded by musicians with myriad instruments …

…but in the middle Stephin, a lugubrious fellow singing the most depressing songs. And hard to understand, when the whole point was the lyrics. Perhaps his fans already knew the words. He was so low-key and withdrawn, I left at intermission, but at home, found a fabulous song of his (with lyrics) that made me laugh out loud. Do listen – I’m sure you’ll love it too. A good laugh is SO needed these days.
https://www.theguardian.com/music/2017/mar/09/magnetic-fields-50-song-memoir-review-nonesuch-stephin-merritt

And finally, my son was visiting a young friend attending Rosedale Heights School of the Arts, Sam’s alma mater, and when he flipped through this year’s yearbook, he found moi.

I gave a talk there last year on an anniversary of the school, and I’m in the yearbook with the principal. Freaked out my poor son. Boychik, yo mama in her little coracle is everywhere!

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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

Some Blogs I Follow

Chris Walks
This blog evolves. It once was about travels. Now it’s a reason to be at the keyboard that I value.

Theresa Kishkan
Theresa Kishkan is a writer living on the Sechelt Peninsula on the west coast of Canada.

I walk on. With my feet, and in my mind as well.

Carrie Snyder
Wherever you’ve come from, wherever you’re going, consider this space a place for reflection and pause.

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