|[ A Foggy Day In London
From my window I can see the
Illawarra escarpment where a foggy mist / cloud is falling over the edge.
Some days it looks like the end of the world but today it just looks plain
Which is a shame, really, because
it should be a bit more prosaic; a bit more profound; a bit more sad :
in honour of that dynamo of the American song, Frank Sinatra. I can't say
that I shed a tear for the guy - I mean, he was getting on in years and
from about 1962 onwards he let almost all of his corrupted ego puke over
anyone he actively disliked. But, he really could sing like no one else...
I put on my 3 CD set of those
fabulous late 50's Capitol recordings and got a tiny bit maudlin to those
god-dammed definitive versions of "I've Got You Under My Skin", "I Get
A Kick Out of You", "The Lady Is a Tramp" and, with a big gulp in the throat,
"One for My Baby" where you can almost believe that Cranky Franky had a
I'll probably play some more
today as well...