Berlioz reminds

July 4, 2008

My favorite spot to blog is in my basement, on a couch, laptop in my lap, with the two dogs next to me under a tattered black chenille throw. It is quiet, centered, and comfy. To my right is the door that goes into a little hallway, the laundry room, and then back upstairs. It is through this door that composers — mostly dead ones, who have decided that they need to channel something through me — come. I haven’t bothered you with every incident, but will try to catch you up from time to time now that I have some time.

A few months back I was checking my email when I smelled patchoulli wafting through the door. Half expecting John Lennon, I was happy to see my old friend Hector Berlioz.

RB: Hector! So good to see you. What’s with the patchoulli?

HB: I have smelled it in your baths and thought it, well, exotic.

RB: (lol) Well, I like it, but some people think it smells like old hippy.

HB: It is an ancient scent my friend. Enjoy it. I come to you today with a very specific mission. How is your Rufus Wainwright book going?

RB: Well, I haven’t touched it but I’m planning on getting back to it right after the holiday.

HB: Finish it my boy while it is still fresh.

RB: The only thing I have done is to remove all my Rufus analyses from my blog. They’ll be back in the book, expanded, and folded into the main themes of the book.

HB: Do you still love his music?

RB: Yes I do. He is a brilliant song writer. Am I as obsessed with his music as I was when I wrote most of the book? No. That’s why it’s important I get it down before “the thrill is gone.”

HB: Very well. I am busy writing a new song for Edith Piaf. Harriet is well and sends you her love.

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