A fitting tune performed by Frank Sinatra
You ain’t been blue; no, no, no.
You ain’t been blue,
Till you’ve had that mood indigo.
That feelin’ goes stealin’ down to my shoes
While I sit and sigh, “Go ‘long blues”.
Always get that mood indigo,
Since my baby said goodbye.
In the evenin’ when lights are low,
I’m so lonesome I could cry.
‘Cause there’s nobody who cares about me,
I’m just a soul who’s
bluer than blue can be.
When I get that mood indigo,
I could lay me down and die.
Lately I have been thinking a lot about my favorite book series “Youth in Revolt”. And no, I am not referring to the movie adaptation that left out about half of the three books it was based off (also not to say the movie sucked. Michael Cera was a perfect fit for Nick Twisp and Portia Doubleday played the role of Sheeni Saunders, as if she were meant for it. I still despise Sheeni’s character to this day. If you read the series, you may agree or disagree.) I am talking about the 7-book series that had me enthralled the whole way through. This was a series that didn’t allow me to rest unless I was flipping through its content with wide eyes and a tender heart.
Now you might be thinking “Who fucking cares? Why are we listening to Frank Sinatra while you blab about some book?”. Well that would be because Nick Twisp is also a Frank Sinatra fanatic; and in the book, he and Sheeni enjoy small coffee shops together for its simplicity and intimate setting. And considering Nick, was head-over-heels for Sheeni, this song came rushing into my conscience as I replayed the scenes over and over in my head.
So I thought I’d share the song with you all and maybe even garner some interest in those who have yet to dive into the fantastical mind of C.D. Payne and his quirky novels đ
Mam’selle Performed by Frank Sinatra:
A small Cafe, Mam’selle, our rendezvous, Mam’selle.
The violins were warm and sweet, and so were you Mam’selle.
And as the night danced by, a kiss became a sigh,
Your lovely eyes seemed to sparkle just like wine does
No heart ever yearned the way that mine does for you.
And yet I know too well someday you’ll say goodbye,
Then violins will cry, and so will I, Mam’selle.
Keyword: “was”.
This was my Love performed by Frank Sinatra
Soft as a raindrop, fresh as the sea
Warm as the sunshine shining on me
This was my love, this was my love
Light was her laughter, few were her tears
Gentle her beauty, tender her years
This was my love, this was my love
So young, so fair, such bright golden hair
A smile always on her face
No other love can ever compare
No other can take her place
Others may cherish fortune or fame
I will forever cherish her name
For this was my love
This was my love!
Another reason I love Sinatra’s voice…
First the tide rushes in;
plants a kiss on the shore.
Then rolls out to sea.
And the sea is very still
Once more.
So I rush to your side.
Like the oncoming tide.
With one burning thought:
Will your arms, open wide?
At last, we’re face to face.
And as we kiss, through an embrace
I can tell, I can feel,
You are love, you are real
Really mine
In the rain,
In the dark,
In the sun.
Like the tide at its ebb
I’m at peace in the web
Of your arms.
On my lunch at work right now and this song came up on my playlist. I decided to post it because It’s an extremely special song for me as it has helped me get over the single greatest heart break I have faced that didn’t include a death in the family… I don’t want to explain for fear of a relapse, but just listen to the song and feel the words flow through your soul.
Since I find myself awake at 3:15AM, thinking… I thought it’d be nice to share something from Frank Sinatra. I’m not sure who actually wrote it; there were several writers responsible for the ballads. But I’m just glad they gave it to Frank to sing đ
In The Wee Small Hours; performed By: Frank Sinatra
In the wee small hours of the morning
While the whole wide world is fast asleep
Youâll lie awake, and think about the girl
And never think of counting sheep.
Â
When your lonely heart has learned its lesson.
Youâd be hers if only she would call.
In the wee small hours of the morning.
Thatâs the time you miss her most, of all.
Â
When your lonely heart has learned its lesson;
Youâd be hers if only she would call
In the wee small hours of the morning.
Thatâs the time you miss her most, of allâŚ
Today I thought I would expose one of my favorite pieces of writing that I have been slowly working on for about a year. It was first intended to be a song, yet my musical talent is wanting. I guess the only reason I continued writing it was in the hope of one day becoming an overnight vocalist. Alas, this did not happen. So, this brings me to what I really wanted to say…
I have a challenge for all you kind humans of the blogosphere or whatever means were used to view this blog. More particularly the musically inclined sector. I would like YOU to take the lyrics below and make them into something. It doesn’t matter what sort of music you put behind it (although I always imagined Frank Sinatra bellowing the tune in a smoky room) or how you sing it. I would absolutely love to see something made of this. If you want to rework the words to make it more “melodic” go for it.
For me, it doesn’t feel complete in its static form. I want to feel an eargasm from something I helped make. Even though the musical tune will be all you! So please, if these words mean something to you, and you have the ability to do something with them, then I give you full reign. The only thing I ask is credit for penning the lyrics.
I hope someone out there can make it happen. đ
Her Forbidden Kiss I can’t resist.
The benefits outweigh the risks.
I’d drive for days and walk through nights;
Just for a lift, from her lips, to new heights.
—
Here we sit, on this lazy Summer ‘noon
In the meadow, watchin’ the flowers bloom
And my lips, they croon, a lofty tune
In July, my oh my, this here July.
—
Soon my serenade entangles in the breeze
It carries through languid branches,
hung from sycamore trees
Spreading hope to those still blinded by lust
Lost in translation or failure to trust
—
Oh, the sights these forests reap.Â
Surely’d turn you red in the cheek
For lover’s embrace’s no stranger to,
Mother nature’s reach
—
Oh how she melts when our eager lips meet
Knowing mere mortals can shine brighterÂ
Than the sun she concedes.
—
In the green fields we lay frozen, a moment for eternity
Locked in a gaze, my inhibitions she razed.
But my soul shattered…
—
For soon reality steals the grin from a saint
Her words become stone as “goodbye” escapes rouge lips
I refuse with melancholy eyes. My cries,
fell irrelevant. Here in July.
—
She must be on her way. Her train due back in May.
So why do I die inside? How did I lose my pride,
On that fateful day? When love was in the air.
Dancing merrily to the song my heart did bare. Â
I wish ALL human beings could still enjoy the classic artists such as Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Dean Martin, Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Dinah Shore, Dorothy Collins… (I could go on) …as much as I have been able to through the years. And not just the mainstream standards that have been played-out by nearly every blockbuster Rom-Com to-date (although that is in no means a slight against the artists’ talent). I am talking about the songs that don’t make the mainstream; the ones that don’t always make you feel like you are living in a fairy tale. The songs that make you think about your trespasses and those who have trespassed against you (This will not turn into a bible reading. I Promise). When the woman/man you loved is now a person you loathe. Or when life gives you lemons, and your juicer breaks mid-squeeze. These are the songs that have kept me sane in times of need; the hands that picked up my lemons and said “Try a Little Tenderness”.  Â
And do you know why this music has such an impact on those that take the time to listen? Because the artists who performed them are somehow capable of morphing their words into an audible specter that will possess all who allow their thoughts to run free instead of locking them in a cage like an untamed beast. With each note, comes a soothing euphoria. Yet at the same time, it brings back the memories that once found you immobilized in fear.
Take Frank Sinatra for instance. This man, whether you’d like to believe it or not, had a rough life living with himself on a daily basis. It has been said that through Frank’s career, he was clinically depressed. Always wanting to find that everlasting love, that feeling of universal acceptance, yet nothing could quite fill the void that presided within. And you hear that in all of his songs. Whether it be the up-beat “Summer Wind” or the heart-crushing “Bewitched”, his emotional state is reconstructed with each air.
Aside from that possibly poor attempt at justifying my diatribe, I guess I just think that people would be able to offer a love more tender, laughs more genuine and smiles much brighter if they let some true emotions bang on their ear drums for a few minutes. And I am not saying that Rap, Hip-Hop, Rock and the like are all bogus genres which do not deserve respect. I too love some good death metal from The Black Dahlia Murder, Rap from Biggie, Rock from The Deftones, and Country from Trace Adkins. But if you pay attention to the lyrics; the very meaning of these songs, has become so irrelevant, so vulgar, so repetitive, that it just voices pointless frustrations like scoring hoes and âtalkinâ âbout that honky-tonk badonkadonkâ. So few artists these days express true emotions in their songs, and so many gifted acts are left on the sidelines with little support. I donât know, maybe I am just talking out of my ass. But people just donât respect these old school legends like they should. After all If it wasnât for them carving a path to expand the musical genres, the meat industry would have never received such a committed advocate in Lady Gaga. Not the best comparison, but In my mind I laughed my ass off after saying it.Â
May the Rat Pack be with you.
-Chris Gonzalez
The Way it Goes 