A Sinatra Intoxication

Old souls, young souls.

Dancing in our heads, dancing in the aisles or dancing in the street?

I am lost in my Sinatra intoxication.  No watered down Watertown for me.  

I am drawing yawning drowning in his pathos and poetry.

Not his exactly, but the material written by Bob Gaudio and Jake Holmes.  Watertown- links below.

Pre Watergate.  Sinatra's concept album that was too conceptual for the time.

But do not give Frank short shrift.  He is not a mere vessel.  He puts the art back in artery.  He puts the oy vey back in vein. 

The critics did not know what to make of it.  The public was distracted, in a dissociative state, distanced with the spectacle of men o the moon, wondering if Tang was orange juice or modern science.  GMO foods would have been welcome in 1969.  We would have bought the science experiment.  Today, we pine for authenticity, organic, a reality that is less real than the manufactured conceit we call life. 

I'm not sure what your opinion of Frank is.  The old slogan is "This is Frank's World. We just live in it."  I said old.  No one says that.  Just like no one says I'm so bright my Dad calls me son.

I am a relic.  A curiosity.  A curlicue.  Can I take a cue?  Do I have a clue? 

I am listening and falling in love with Sinatra's 1970 album, Watertown. 

The opinions makers ( you know who they are) call it his Berlin.  Can you imagine Sinatra doing The Kids?  "They're taking your children away. Because they said you were not a good mother." 

Maybe I can envision this.  

Give it an honest listen.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jAVN4zdjbDg&feature=share

If you want to read about it, I recommend this review in the Paris Review:

http://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2013/03/14/blue-eyes-in-watertown/

Watertown is about a man whose wife leaves him, leaves him with two sons.  That doesn't happen.

Except I know people who have experienced this.  There are many ways to leave.  Fifty ways according to the poet Paul Simon.  

Just take it to the bank, Frank.

What is the gory story, Cory?

Poor Cory Montieth.  Why does the public always want to condemn the dead?

He was weak.  Who isn't?

He gave up so much.  Who doesn't?

I spent the week thinking of bridges and how the water is closer than the land, and this kid takes a trip to his home town, a bad relationship, the toxic girlfriend he can't avoid even though by all odds he should shun, and she gives him a hot shot.  

And it's quarter to three, and there's no one in the joint, except you and me.

So set 'em up Joe.   I got a little story I think you oughtta know.

I take no Glee in trying to make sense of something that will never make sense.

Success is no panacea.  It is not sugar coated, but it does leave a film.