Tag Archives: melodies

Block

Block: (v) to make the movement or flow in a passage difficult or impossible.

Dictionary B

It is easier to get coverage on the news of evil than it is to receive attention toward even an intriguing good.

The media would argue this point, and would stubbornly insist that they are merely providing what interests the public, and therefore, stimulates their advertisers to contribute revenue.

But meanwhile, many things are being blocked from the common good.

We don’t ever hear the best music because it mingles the melodies of the past with innovative tunefulness. Too risky.

We’re blocked from the best inventions because they don’t necessarily appeal to immediate marketplace requirements, but instead, address longer-lasting concerns.

And we’re blocked from the best people to govern us because they cannot pass the scrutiny of purity, or haven’t learned how to lie about it.

So we settle for the mediocre, discussing levels of inadequacy, assigning excellence to the more promoted portions.

I suppose at this point I should offer some alternative to this paradox.

I have none.

As long as finance is the determining factor in what is paraded, we will have to learn to hang to the rear to escape the clowns.

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Abattuta

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter AAbattuta: (adv.) a musical term meaning to return to strict tempo.

Sometimes I think life should be more musical–not in the sense of bursting into song while you’re waiting for your meatball sandwich at Subway, but musical in the sense of flourishes in timing, with exciting melodies and enhancing harmonies. Music grants you the ability to suddenly play very fast. And then … you can abattuta! Return back to your strict timeframe.

Life is not that way. It takes sixty seconds to make a minute, an equal number of minutes to make an hour, and twenty-four of them eventually make a day. Wouldn’t it be great if you had some sort of control–like a conductor’s baton–to make certain portions of your daily composition go quicker?

In other words, when you go to the dentist and he’s drilling on your teeth, you could increase the tempo–get out of the chair with a flourish. And then, as you were allowing the Novocaine to wear off and you stop at that Steak and Shake to reward yourself with a delicious chocolate-marshmallow milkshake, you could slow the tempo w-a-a-y down, allowing the ooey-gooey to eek its way down your throat.

You could speed up church services and slow down romance.

You could accelerate the interchanges you have with your children to confirm that you’re a good parent, and slow down the ending of the game, which finally, for a change, is actually close and interesting.

Maybe that’s the whole problem–life is too abattuta. Because when we try to relish moments, the clock frowns at us and continues its steady pursuit of strict formality.

Yes, clocks are like that. Still, I will search for a way to freeze moments so I can enjoy them even more as they thaw out. And I will hum songs and think happy thoughts to speed through those activities that are truly grueling and boring. Yet I know there will always be the abattuta to taunt me back to the mature notion of remaining in strict time.

I guess I never saw God as the conductor of an orchestra. To me, He’s more like the guy who plays the triangle. He lets the symphony ensue, but every once in a while, inserts his two-note passage that seems to make all the difference in the world.