#1 Truly the Stuff of Joy
I also impulse-buy books, just putting it out there. *Today’s music: The Blue Nile & Paul Buchanan*
Walking makes me feel alive: blood zapping through my veins, air in my lungs and a sense of joy.
I walk everywhere. Always over an hour. Always listening to music. Many times praying as I walk, conversing with God; other times thinking about this endeavor called life… A fraction of those times (a very small fraction) pondering money, rent, the bills… the bureaucracy of being human - it is then I force myself to bring to mind all the New Testament verses on provision (I took some semesters of Theology) and I am able to find my center again.
I continue walking. And begin to focus my attention on the architecture: Buenos Aires is a melting pot of styles: Neogothic, French Beaux Arts, Italian Neo-Renaissance, Art Deco, Art Nouveau, Rationalism… you name it, this city has it. And it’s one of the reasons I love it so. Architecture is art.
Looking at the architecture, the trees, the beauty that permeates most everywhere one can walk to in Buenos Aires, I’m filled with a sense of wonder… now, add music to that mix and my heart feels full.
I study nights to become an Official Tour Guide for the City of Buenos Aires, sponsored by the Government of Buenos Aires. I walk to school as well. I’m always walking. Every single day I find a reason to walk. And should there be no reason, I make one up.
Today, because I didn’t have any classes, I decided to go for a walk around my favorite neighborhood. The plan was to pick up a magazine I had purchased from an online seller, walk around, go to a café (hello Starbucks reward points) and start writing for Substack.
When I reached Junín street, I noticed a street vendor. The sidewalk was lined with books.
I stopped, (as one does when one finds books) and read the titles.
My brother is out of a job and I’m helping him out at the moment, so a book wasn’t something I was looking to buy.
An older gentleman approached, probably late eighties, handsome, stylish; he could have been older, you never know with Argentinians, they’re usually in great shape. He pointed to a title.
“I read that book and it was pretty good. Fantastic piece of literature!”, he exclaimed.
Argentinians will strike up a conversation with you anywhere, at any time. I love that about them.
“Oh, really? What’s it about?”
“I’d be lying if I told you the plot, but I remember the book stayed with me for many years, many years. And the guy right here, he sells them for whatever you price the book. He has no fixed price.”
The gentleman touched his chin and continued, “But if you’re looking for a good read, that’s the one.”
He smiled at me, broadly, a true book lover’s smile.
“I’ll ask the vendor,” I said and walked towards him.
“The books are here and folks pay me what they think is fair. I don’t like to charge people. I’ve been here for years…” His voiced trailed off as he moved towards me. I noticed his limp, his tattered shoes, the worn-out jacket.
“I don’t know what fair is, though. I don’t want to underpay you.”
“Sure, show me the book”, he said. “Ahhh, this is good one.”
In Argentina, a used book can go anywhere from 2 USD to 6 USD. I thought 6 USD would be fair so I suggested that price. He seemed pleased.
He gave me the book and we made small talk. After saying goodbye, I searched for the gentleman, he was half a block away.
I ran towards him and thanked him for his recommendation. The joy on his face, that someone would have bought a book based on his advice, was something quite lovely.
Six dollars brought joy to two people. Three counting me having something new to read.
Below, free coffee at Starbucks (thank you reward points), the magazine and the book.
And a disclaimer: the coffee shops in Buenos Aires are amazing, so really, if you ever travel down here, forget Starbucks, unless your brother is going through a rough patch and you’re using your Starbucks stars.
Finally, walking is an art, a discipline. Look up, look around, take in the air, breathe… feel your legs carrying you forward. It’s truly the stuff of joy.
Before I say goodnight, here go some photos of Recoleta:
I’m currently listening to:
A mix of The Blue Nile and Mid Air, Paul Buchanan’s solo album. I’ve become enamored with them. Baritones (like Paul Buchanan) have a deep resonance to their voice, you can feel it in the belly. David Bowie, David Sylvian, Dave Gahan, Michael McDonald, Brendan Perry of Dead Can Dance, Johnny Cash, Colin Vearncome and Frank Sinatra come to mind as beautiful baritones with a unique color to their voice. Include Paul’s lush baritone in that list. Quite possibly my favorite of them all.
I discovered the Blue Nile this year, my walking companions. And of course, Paul’s solo album, Mid Air. An album that breaks you and heals you, all at once. Stripped down, naked - just piano… and a whole lotta magic.
Magical sounds about right.
Regarding their discography, you’ll find synth sounds in A Walk Across the Rooftops, Hats and High. But on Peace At Last, Paul’s guitar has center stage.
I’m a synth fan, ever since the age of twelve -when a shower and the radio sealed the deal for me (I’ll have to write about that someday) but I’m also a fan of beautiful acoustic guitars. Peace At Last is probably my favorite, followed by High and Hats. A Walk Across the Rooftops is beautiful for sure, as all their albums are, but well… one tends to categorize.
Mid Air entails some preparation before I listen as really, it is too much beauty (of the poignant sort), too much sweet sweet melancholy and then a denouement (Fin de siécle and After Dark) that ties it all up -as a form of healing -to tackle it lightly.
It is a journey, an experience, more than an album.
I’m being serious.
I usually take a deep breath before diving into Mid Air.
Whimsical and tragic, and lush in its complicated simplicity and hopeful. Fin de siècle is hope harnessed using piano and strings, it is elevation. That’s the only word I can use to describe it. Such beauty.
Mid Air reminds me of the Psalms. Or life itself. Both dichotomies.
And musically, Paul extracts every ounce of life-force from his piano. One track flows into the next, like a suite, until its denouement. You’ve also got some lingering synth in the guise of strings and horns that give it such an ethereal quality.
It is the embrace of all the conflicting forces that make us human. Strangely edifying, healing… And passionate in what you would believe is the most subtle of ways, upon first hearing it, but then, the more you dive into it, the more you realize that Mid Air is in fact, a monumental album. One that you will revere.
So… Wow. Just wow.
If you feel like browsing, I wrote a bit more about Mid Air, here.
Music means the world to me. That’s because I was raised by a melomane.
As an aside: I don’t know if Paul (he’s a genius of the humble sort, I’ve read some interviews and he comes across as a great human being) will ever truly understand how deep this album touches a melomane’s heart. He’s in my prayers.
And finally, this happened, because I love artwork and all of the artwork on my walls is meaningful to me:
