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Waiting rooms used to be true oases for reading. Arranged on coffee tables or piled on baskets in the corner of the room, it was always possible to find some type of reading offered to the patient. The choice was vast: from old magazines, information leaflets and even, in some cases, comic books. I have used all of these items at some point of my life, but my favorite way to wait for my turn at a doctor or dentist appointment has always been to use a book brought from home.

At the moment, I am reading the fourth volume of In Search of Lost Time, by Marcel Proust in a big, heavy edition and every time I leave the house I think about whether or not it is really worth carrying it in my bag. That day I had an appointment with a doctor who usually has a full office, so I thought it would be worth carrying the extra weight to catch up on my reading. It did not take long for me to realize I was wrong

Firstly, I reached into my bag to pick up the heavy volume. The weight of it was somehow comforting – a physical reminder of the vast, intricate world that awaited me within its pages, but I soon realized that the serene reading experience I craved could no longer be replicated and the reason was quite simple:smartphones. They turned reading in the waiting room into a journey of its own, amidst people frantically sending and receiving text messages (without bothering to turn off the sound of the keys first) and audio messages. Headphones? Of course not! Afteral, why bother?

The naturalization of the lack of education represented by the neurotic way in which people interact with their smartphones seems to me to be a gigantic loss of civilization and this is also reflected in the way common spaces (such as office waiting rooms) are divided. It often feels as though individuals are making a concerted effort to ignore one another, further emphasizing the disconnection and alienation that permeate modern social interactions.

In the fast-paced and technologically driven world we live in, it is becoming increasingly common to observe individuals engrossed in their own digital worlds, often at the expense of meaningful face-to-face interactions. The pervasiveness of technology in our daily lives has undoubtedly revolutionized the way we communicate and connect, yet it has also led to a noticeable shift in how we interact with one another.

The allure of constant connectivity through social media, messaging apps, and digital entertainment has created a paradoxical situation where we are simultaneously more connected and yet more disconnected than ever before. This begs the question: How can we bridge the gap between the virtual and the real, fostering genuine human connections while navigating the influence of technology on our shared spaces?

The overuse of technology in everyday life has indeed sparked a debate that often draws parallels to nostalgia, portrayed as an idyllic yearning for an “analogous paradise” of the past. While it is undeniable that technology has brought about numerous positive impacts, it is equally undeniable that it has led to the loss of certain elements, including the decline of small reading retreats.

This shift in our lifestyles has prompted reflections on the trade-offs involved in our increasing reliance on technology and the potential consequences for facets of life that were once cherished, such as quality, silent time.

By disregarding the importance of silence in our lives, we avoid experiencing moments of introspection, which are fundamental to the human psyche. For those who work with the arts, the loss is even greater, as every creation goes through a moment of introspective observation and needs silence to flourish.

Silence provides a sanctuary for the mind to wander freely, making room for creative thoughts to germinate and grow. It is within the tranquil embrace of silence that artists find the inspiration to breathe life into their creations, crafting symphonies, paintings, and prose with unparalleled depth and emotion.

In the absence of silence, the frantic noise of the world drowns out the delicate whispers of creativity, stifling its evolution and robbing it of its true potential. Therefore, embracing silence is not merely a choice, but a necessity for those who seek to nurture the boundless expanse of their artistic expression.

For the human spirit, silence serves as a haven amidst the bustling cacophony of life, offering a moment of respite, reflection, and restoration. It is in these silent interludes that we decipher the intricate complexities of our existence, finding solace in the tranquil whispers of our innermost thoughts.

In essence, silence is not the absence of sound, but rather the presence of infinite possibilities waiting to be explored and unraveled. It is the canvas upon which the human soul paints its most profound revelations and unveils the truth that lies at the core of our being, paving the way for self-discovery. An experience that no app can provide.

Be seeing you!

G.F.

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Francisco de Morais Alves, better known as Francisco Alves, Chico Alves or Chico Viola (Rio de Janeiro, August 19, 1898 — Pindamonhangaba, September 27, 1952) is considered one of the greatest, most popular and versatile Brazilian singers. Nicknamed “King of the Voice” by radio host César Ladeira, Alves is a decisive figure in the construction of several popular genres of Brazilian music in the first half of the 20th century.

In addition to his vocal competence and appeal to the public, Francisco Alves also had a reputation for having a good eye for discovering songs that would be new hits. In this sense, he was considered infallible by his colleagues. However, the “infallible” man made a mistake, at least once, when choosing his repertoire and, ironically, he failed to choose for himself a theme that is usually present in lists of the most beautiful sambas of all time.

“Agora É Cinza” (“Only Ashes Now’, in a free translation), was first offered by the composer duo Bide and Marçal to the singer Mário Reis, along with another composition by the duo, the samba “Vivo Sonhando”. Mário wanted to do a kindness to his colleague, of whom he was a deep admirer. Well, the “infallible” Francisco Alves chose “Vivo Sonhando” and Mário Reis recorded the remaining song, “Agora é Cinza”, with an arrangement by the great master Pixinguinha, which became a classic, while Alves’ recording did not achieve much success and is rarely remembered by his fans.

It is quite intriguing to delve into the decisions and circumstances that can lead even a celebrated figure like Francisco Alves to miss out on what later became an iconic samba. The complex interplay of personal relationships, artistic choices, and timing in the world of music often yields unexpected outcomes.

This anecdote serves as a poignant reminder of the unpredictable nature of the music industry and the countless variables that can shape the fate of a particular recording. It highlights how even the most skilled and discerning individuals may encounter moments where their judgment falters.

The tale also underscores the intricate interplay of talent, timing, and luck in the world of music, where success and obscurity can hinge on a myriad of factors. The inherent unpredictability and complexity of the music landscape, may turn even the most promising endeavors into unexpected hurdles, while seemingly overlooked creations may rise to acclaim.

Feelings of frustration and disappointment when things do not go as planned are common to all of us. It is especially tough when we invest a lot of time and effort into something and do not see the desired results. It can feel like a wasted opportunity, and we fear that the dreams and ideas that we had may not come to fruition.

It is also easy to fall into the trap of believing that we are the only ones making mistakes, that “others” are always successful. However, it is important to remind ourselves that even the most skilled individuals experience setbacks. This perspective can provide a sense of solace and motivation to keep going, knowing that it’s all part of the journey to success.

It is natural for us to face obstacles and make mistakes along the way. Just like even the most proficient archers miss the target, from time to time.

Be seeing you!

G. F.

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Once, an ex tried to convince me to go back together with him in a quite, let us say, original way. He said that he really wanted to wake up next to a singer because, according to him, we get up singing. Did it work? No way! I remained irreducible. And you do not need to feel sorry for him, okay? The guy was a jerk. What kind? A “I-do-not-like-you-traveling-alone-to-conferences” kind of jerk. Nevertheless, he had a point.

I always thought this was something everyone did on a normal basis. It never occurred to me that entering the day singingit was a privilege, let alone a specific characteristic of singers. I wonder if my many birthday rituals also count as, let us say singer’s follies.

The thing with my b-day superticious is that they are quite flexible, but they usually include changing the bed linen, bringing the garbage out, followed by a nice shower or bath, finalizing with a glass of Champagne by midnight. They may or may not include posting a story on a social network (sign of the times) or some sort of self-care routine, such as a facial moisturing mask.

Silly? Sure it is silly, but it helps me somehow, not only to leave the previous solar year and all the stuff I do not need anymore behind, but also getting ready for the new cycle to come. To be honest, I think my rituals are charming, say what you will.

You know what? I am sure you have your rituals too, if not for your birthday, at least for some special dates, such as New Year´s Eve. Am I right?

Here in Brazil there are many rituals for the last last of the year: we dress in white, eat lentils and grapes (seven grapes, to be more specific) and there is a complete chapter on how the colour of your underwear will influence your life in the coming year (yellow for money, red for love, green for health, so on and so forth, and another one for the beach-related rituals suposed to bring you good luck.

My guess is that we follow rituals for a variety of reasons, including the fleeting feeling of power over a destiny we do not control. Whatever your ritual to start another year might be, I wish you face the inevitable coming challenges with courage, because often that is all life asks of us.

Happy New Year and, as Annie Lennox sings in Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This):

Hold your head up (movin’ on)

and keep your head up (movin’ on)

Be seeing you!

G.F.

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I do not like fake adornments. From wigs (as “high tech” aand expensive as they might be) to fake eyelashes, from acrigel nails to breast implants, from dental lenses to plastic flowers. I am aware that perhaps it is not the nicest confession, but it is the truth. You can put it down to my idiosyncrasies, if you must

However, at a wedding reception I attended recently, the centerpieces offered to guests were small arrangements of plastic lilies and forget-me-nots. I not only happily brought mine home, but also gave it some special place in my decoration, and it is now among the books, on one of my shelves.

Lack of coherence? Let me explain the case and then you can judge for yourself.

The bride and groom in question have been together for over thirty-five years and rose a beautiful family. Despite the desire of the bride to make the union official, the ceremony had been postponed several times, for different reasons, all quite tragic.

With superhuman strength, the bride overcame each of her challenges and made her dream come true. And I was lucky enough to be invited to this special moment.

The ceremony was simple and for a few people only. Everything was done by the family: the food service at the cocktail, the decoration, the souvenirs, and the table centerpieces. All that was made with love, facing the the effort that only workers know about: how to make an already tight salary, just for a moment of celebration, a day to remember.

There was so much love at the gathering, tender affection in every little detail, in every piece of cake offered, in every gesture, every smile in the room. In fact, there was a “good vibe” aura all around the place. How could I refuse to take an object offered in an environment of such love and care?

Another of my idiosyncrasies is that I think that objects can hold some traces of their owners and evoke memories. In other words, they have their own beauty, not related to their shape or material, but a certain, let us say, beauty within.

It is a crazy theory, I know, and it probably only makes sense in my head, but I can guarantee that the memories that come to mind every time I look at the small arrangement on my shelf are not only happy, they are truly beautiful.

Be seeing you!

G.F.

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This morning I read another report about the sphere inaugurated in Las Vegas with a concert by the band U2. Feedback on the show has been very positive and everyone seems quite impressed with the tons of LED lights and the (poor words, so worn out) immersive experience.

I wonder if these people have ever been to a planetarium in their lives. I remember memorable shows at fantastic planetariums in Osnabrück, Germany and Lisbon, Portugal. And we are talking about the 1990s and 2000s!

Honestly, I am surprised (in a negative way) by the collective mesmerization, in the worst sense of the word, with inventions that, honestly, are nothing new (the true global cult of cars, so harmful to the environment, comes to mind).

It seems that everything that has been done before social media simply never existed. I would say there is a tendence of treating “old” (pre-social media) events as new stuff, or even worse, sometimes they are considered revolutionary, disruptive etc. The very word “experience” has reached a level of overuse by publicity pieces, that it no longer inspires the slightest confidence.

Thge point here is not to question the quality, much less the merit of the band U2 (who, in fact, neither asked nor need my opinion).The reflection I would like to bring today has to do with the widespread use of pyrotechnics in the most diverse musical events.

How much of our already weakened attention can withstand yet another bomb of visual stimuli and still reserve some attention for the music?

Among the artists you know with astronomical numbers of followers, how many people they brought to the stage on their last performance? Hard to rememeber, right? No wonder, with screens that go up and down, dancers with vibrant choreography and costume changes, musicians are just a tiny detail.

I cannot help but thinking that the sparkling lights are taking a place that should be occupied by the music/musicians.. That is, when we are lucky enough to have musicians on stage.

Currently, not only many festivals host attractions whose performances are based on pre-recorded beats, they also consider lip-sync part of the show. And I am not talking about kind-of-hidden-pro-tools-lip-sync”. I am talking about headline performers who would shameless scream words (“Jump”, “Make some noise”) in their mics, while their pre-recorded song goes on.

I am ready to hear any arguments in favor of these resources, I honestly am. However, I fear that any theoretical contortionism will end in some sort of an absolute defense of the concept of entertainment, which I am not opposed to either.

Previously this year, I discussed the difference between large and small concerts, and I am perfectly convinced that there is an audience for everyone. I do not see entertainment as a problem, not at all. The problem is, when there is nothing but entertainment.

Particularly in relation to music, the problem ist that music production has to be reduced to mere entertainment. This is indeed sad, because it means a loss, a decline in its status a form of art. Have you ever heard someone making a comment like: “Well, I did not like that film/exposition, play, because it is sad and I go out to be happy”? I have the impression that this sort of weird reasoning had spread itself throughout society.

Do you know what would really impress me? That people would no longer be hungry and that, at night, everyone would have a shelter. Other than that, honey, there is no sphere giant enough to impress me, and all I can think of all the buzz is: it has been done, babe.

Be seeing you!

G. F.