The Young Boy and Other Stories
I didn't write these in my notebook, for reasons unknown to me. And no longer my blog is at peace by my irregular, unconstrained writings.
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A young boy, walking around a small area, is speaking into his mobile headset with animation. His hands and lips move with vigour. His looks is unobtrusively decisive. Later I do not take much notice of him during the meal. I hear him commenting, on a friend's speak on Shahname --that is conceived by a vulgar intelligence, backed by actually reading the text but delivered too poor to deserve a national epic. At twenty he has a job and speaks with knowledge and confidence --that may well be interring a fear of even the very immediate world around. He looks older than his years, yet I pause and doubt if this could be the exception to the stand of any young man of his age. --I wonder.. youngsters that younger than me used to be different, well, much younger.. am I getting old!!? I am his elder, then, when he leaves the table after the lunch, I have --and, in a light-hearted defensive act, use,-- the privilege of epigrammatising, epigrammatising his privilege to challenge a greater world, now, "ready to conquer the world". He would hope my attempt at humour proves feeble.
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I always knew I only could say if one singing is not singing right. Yes, this vague, and strange it's never been this clear to me that how a male singer's voice could be beautiful, in addition to be technically correct. ("Male singer" makes me feel I'm talking about frogs and their lovelorn songs, how's that now?) I just found out after I tried to sing along with the tape*, and, why, it just happened to me that his voice is far more beautiful than mine --or mine and everybody's far more hideous. How come it came to me this late? I mean I karaoke and sing a lot along with records. I wish, if it is to be, it wouldn't take this long to realise my voice is indeed a catastrophe! "Oh no! Not again!" and thus it crossed my mind if the bowl of petunias was discovering new facts of life at exactly my pace, while falling that fast. --For you see, I never finished the radio series. I heard the story from the shortened screen version, and I don't know if this was answered by the late Adams in the series or the books.
*For entertainment and informational purposes only I cite the lyrics that revealed those historic facts I already mentioned, --do not try: Du heilge Nacht / bald ist's vollbracht / bald schlaf ich ihn, den langen Schlummer / der mich erlöst von allem Kummer.
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A young boy, walking around a small area, is speaking into his mobile headset with animation. His hands and lips move with vigour. His looks is unobtrusively decisive. Later I do not take much notice of him during the meal. I hear him commenting, on a friend's speak on Shahname --that is conceived by a vulgar intelligence, backed by actually reading the text but delivered too poor to deserve a national epic. At twenty he has a job and speaks with knowledge and confidence --that may well be interring a fear of even the very immediate world around. He looks older than his years, yet I pause and doubt if this could be the exception to the stand of any young man of his age. --I wonder.. youngsters that younger than me used to be different, well, much younger.. am I getting old!!? I am his elder, then, when he leaves the table after the lunch, I have --and, in a light-hearted defensive act, use,-- the privilege of epigrammatising, epigrammatising his privilege to challenge a greater world, now, "ready to conquer the world". He would hope my attempt at humour proves feeble.
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I always knew I only could say if one singing is not singing right. Yes, this vague, and strange it's never been this clear to me that how a male singer's voice could be beautiful, in addition to be technically correct. ("Male singer" makes me feel I'm talking about frogs and their lovelorn songs, how's that now?) I just found out after I tried to sing along with the tape*, and, why, it just happened to me that his voice is far more beautiful than mine --or mine and everybody's far more hideous. How come it came to me this late? I mean I karaoke and sing a lot along with records. I wish, if it is to be, it wouldn't take this long to realise my voice is indeed a catastrophe! "Oh no! Not again!" and thus it crossed my mind if the bowl of petunias was discovering new facts of life at exactly my pace, while falling that fast. --For you see, I never finished the radio series. I heard the story from the shortened screen version, and I don't know if this was answered by the late Adams in the series or the books.
*For entertainment and informational purposes only I cite the lyrics that revealed those historic facts I already mentioned, --do not try: Du heilge Nacht / bald ist's vollbracht / bald schlaf ich ihn, den langen Schlummer / der mich erlöst von allem Kummer.
