“I’m having a few and wishin’ that you were here….”

You may recall that post I wrote last summer about Frank Sinatra’s Strangers In The Night song. I enjoy settling back now and then to his music. Last night, pre-dinner, I was listening courtesy of my iPad to a Christmas present that had come, uh, my way….

Screen capture of part of my iPad music collection.
Screen capture of part of my iPad music collection.

If you don’t understand what all the “fuss” is about regarding Frank Sinatra and would like to, I recommend that Ultimate Sinatra. The 4 CDs version has a helpful background booklet on his life and career. The compliation includes just about everything that marked him out as a distinctive artist.

This post came to mind this morning because our chalet owner here in La Clusaz has had a habit of putting his iPod on the bar and playing Sinatra – even in a room populated mostly by other first-language French speakers. That’s not a shock, though. Sinatra has always been popular here in France:

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The Big Fear: “What if it’s awful?”

Whether we like it or not, life is one big risk-taking venture. Yet fearing to fail is one reason most of us don’t try to do what we want to do. Who really wants to look like a fool?

Free Stock Photo: Closeup of business man burying head in hand.
Free Stock Photo: Closeup of business man burying head in hand.

So failure may be in the back of our mind. But I have usually found myself motivated to achieve something positive as being worth the risk of failing. I enjoy proving doubters wrong as well, and although I haven’t always succeeded on that score, whenever I have it has been a tremendously satisfying feeling.

I ventured into fiction-writing because I felt certain that if I put my back into it I could produce novels that would be solid reading. Now, though, I’ve moved my own goal posts. After three semi-biographical/ semi-autobiographical novels, the idea of trying something new within fiction is more than a bit intimidating, and even scary.

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“Keep the Faith and Believe In”

Having been mostly in a generally downer (and I admit, sometimes foul) mood due perhaps unsurprisingly to my uncle and then my mother dying two weeks apart in October, Patrina Morris has been a great musical discovery. It’s tough to stay miserable with music like this coming out of your iPhone. How about some Sunday bossa nova:

What we can stumble on thanks to social media. Her site is PatrinaMorris.com. She is also on About.me, as well as Twitter and elsewhere. Keep the Faith and Believe In and other songs are available on Amazon and iTunes.

Given this is relatively off topic compared to what I normally post, why have I told you that?

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A Motorcycle Journey Down Memory Lane

I know it’s not like me, but I have no “profound” post in mind for today.

I suppose I still recovering from the house move.

So, how about this? I saw this yesterday on Twitter:

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Never In A Million Years

Laura had been born in upstate New York. She died August 26, 2004 on Long Island – 11 years ago now. Only 52 at the time, she’d died in her sleep of a previously undiagnosed cerebral aneurysm.

For those of us who grew up fans, she was like a local gal who’d “made it.” I saw her perform live once, and won’t ever forget it:

A sneak peek into "Distances." Click to enlarge.
A sneak peek into “Distances.” Click to enlarge.

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Friday ’80s Musical Interlude

As we know, fictional characters say (or think) what is obvious to them, but what is also not necessarily clear to us. Often we’re “eavesdropping” on them as well. So at any given moment we may know more than they do, or know less. It all depends:

Excerpt from
Excerpt from “Frontiers,” on the iPad app for Kindle. Click to expand.

Incorporating subtle references to the 1990s and the years just prior (which are part of their own “recent” life memories), is just a bit of fun. Music, television and film favorites are part of that. We know life can’t always be treated so seriously, of course.

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Saturday Sinatra

A quiet Saturday morning. Tired mentally from the writing of the last few days, I was also at a loss this morning for a decent blog post topic. Then, suddenly, this hit me: I had been listening to this song at one point (it’s on my iPhone with others of his) while working yesterday and again while emptying the dishwasher a little while ago.

Whether it’s a decent post or not is entirely your call as always, of course. ;-) I’d had a look on YouTube and found this video for it, and it is more inventive than most: it cleverly edited in artistic, black and white, photographs. These are some examples:

Screen capture of YouTube.
Screen capture of YouTube.

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Benediction (Hot Natured Cover)

I know I’m breaking my no post before Tuesday, long weekend, rest pledge. But there’s a very good reason for that. This won’t take long, and I don’t want to wait until tomorrow to post this.

On Saturday night, we were directed to this on YouTube by our overnight guests. This wonderful singer – Amy Syed – is our friend’s niece. Her aunt (one of those guests) is massively proud of her…. and rightfully so. Enjoy!:

What one can sometimes learn unexpectedly, eh? This being social media, if you like her singing by all means do please share it.

I’m returning now to my UK Bank Holiday weekend. ;-)

Have a good Monday, wherever you are in the world. :-)

I’m Gonna Write Till I Die

This extract does not do this Kate Colby post full justice. However, an extract of hers rarely does. Click over: she always makes us think, so it is worth reading in its entirety:

…I’ve spent several sleepless nights reading and re-reading the perfectly poetic prose of Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. I’ve spent many an afternoon curled up in my windowsill with Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway. I’ve spent countless evenings imagining myself a faceless extra, one of the glamorous flappers dancing in a party from F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby

…What if that one book is all I get from that author? What if the next is an utter disappointment, undeniable proof that my beloved novel is a fluke? What if I read a chapter, a paragraph, a sentence only to discover that the author I thought understood me at the deepest level is a hack, a con artist, who knows nothing of human nature?

And what if, when I am a published author, this happens to one of my readers?…

Of those authors, I know Fitzgerald best. The Great Gatsby is, by consensus of opinion nowadays, his “masterpiece.” Although his output over his career is uneven, he’s written much else that is satisfying.

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