Friday, August 7, 2015

Send in the Clowns

Isn't it rich?
Are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
You in mid-air.
Send in the clowns.

Been listening to that song this morning while doing the laundry. One song that Sinatra actually doesn't do better than everyone else. A rarity indeed. I prefer Barbara Streisand's interpretation. The one by Judy Collins seems too flat. But whatever. Matter of taste, I'm sure.

Funny how one can take lyrics out of context and make them applicable to oneself or one's situation, apart from the originally intended meaning.

I often feel that the order in time is strangely disjointed, improperly put together, like a jigsaw puzzle where the pieces have been forced into the wrong spots, skewing, scattering and confusing the picture. If I were in charge of chance, coincidence, chronology, I would have done things differently, redone the order of time and event. What's that word they use nowadays? Synchronize. Synchronize your devices.

Isn't it bliss?
Don't you approve?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can't move.
Where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns.

Don't you love farce?

My energy is spent, and yet in demand. The capital is depleted just when the time is ripe for purchase. I am finally ready, yet already done.

Isn't it rich?
Isn't it queer?
Losing my timing this late
In my career?
And where are the clowns?
There ought to be clowns.
Well, maybe next year.

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