The house is empty. Once we were a couple, now I am alone. Until oblivion carries me off: Next year? Months?
Happy about the Midterms but wish I could have shared the happiness with Veronica.
I turn to music because, after ten years of singing lessons, I know what music can do for me.
What kind of music? Triumphal? Nah, triumph is ephemeral. Music to match my qualified happiness, then. How about that ever-elusive all-time favourite? Difficult; so many, etc; and, autre temps, autre moeurs.
A moment’s deliberation and – hey! – it’s much easier than I imagined.
Bach’s Goldberg Variations. Lasts an hour; recognisably a work of genius; composed three-hundred years ago yet as fresh as the US’s first Muslim senator; lively, thereby, happy.
Details. Solo piano. Starts with a poignant yet simple air lasting about two minutes. Followed by 29 variations, all jewels in their own rights, all obviously melodically linked to the initial air. Air is repeated at the end. I have three different recordings by Glenn Gould, Andras Schiff, Freddy Kempf. Gould is an acquired taste (very fast), Schiff and Kempf both good but Schiff is very likeable in masterclasses.
Result. Ate my solitary lunch (ready-made macaroni, half a kilo of fresh fruit) constantly stirred by Schiff’s ability to differentiate. Strode out afterwards to provide a blood sample at medical centre..
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