"Poor Butterfly"

Ah, yes, this one will be in the 'yuck' group, alas. First of all, the pidgin English that takes over the second half of the song really turns me off, but even when I substitute a few key syllables or words, the song as a whole still does not grab my heart. Oh, I know you all are singing this in the shower every day, such is its lasting popularity, but I cannot, in good faith, join in with the crowd in this instance.

I've just gotten in from a memorial dinner for an aquaintence of mine, who passed away last month. I had known him a few years, and although I can't say that we were friends, per se, I do feel that my world is less rich with him not in it. This dinner was the right closing ritual for me. Everyone took turns to stand up and clink their glass, and tell a story about this marvelously eccentric, brilliant, most-often insulting man. But insulting in a way that made us all feel noticed, and an important part of the larger story, and certainly, the ongoing amusement, of this man. Our ability to still be amused by him is the greatest gift that he has left.

There are so many amazing people in my life. I have little idea of why I am so lucky to be so blessed, except that I really love people, all their eccentricities. Not surprising, when one looks at those closest to me.

Too intoxicated with very fine red wine (also a favorite of my late almost-friend, particularly the French varieties) to write something more profound this evening, especially when the song disappointed so. Again, check back, anon, and I will attempt to redeem myself in your eyes. Sweet dreams, all; dream of those you love, particularly those who have not been in your dear company of late.