Let me guess. To put order in my thoughts? To appease? To comfort? To tell a story? Yes? Do you have a story? Many stories. But you don't want to tell any stories? Why? It would be gossip! But the world runs on gossip. They did this, he did that, she said this and you said that. She did what? She threw the shoe at her husband. Well, it wasn't a shoe, it was a flip flop, nevertheless, she threw it at him with "don't you dare say anything bad about..." whoever. That's not the point. He had time to duck and he didn't. It hit him. He probably didn't believe his eyes. He probably thought he was watching television and the flip flop was going to hit the camera, not him. I thought the problem was being taken out of proportion and it would soon escalate into violence but it didn't, if you don't count throwing a flip flop at someone as violence. Anger can be very funny when observed. How does one decide to take one of their flip flops and throw it, in a moment of rage, at their adversary? It takes imagination. Or does it? Could it be that the not too long ago shoe incident in Iraq inspired this otherwise nice lady into behaving in such a manner in front of the guests? There is no comparison between these two incidents as to the recipients' severity of the crimes (hint: gossip). Nor is there any possible comparison between the two footwear. One was a shoe, a man's shoe at that, the other a flip flop. The only thing in common these two incidents had was the amount of anger the footwear carried and its trajectory.
When I came home that afternoon, there was a package waiting for me. I knew what was in it. I opened it, put my headphones and listened to Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 3 in C Minor, with Alfred Brendel on the piano and James Levine conducting the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, recorded live in 1983 and later remastered. One of my favorite pieces of music that I have wanted to own since 1974. I listened to Alfred Brendel's every note, every day for about one year, on that 33 rpm record album in the studio apartment I rented (sub-let) in Manhattan. There was no television in the apartment but there were two albums, the other being Marvin Gaye's "What's Going On". For one year Beethoven, Alfred Brendel and Marvin Gaye kept me company. When I left New York for sunny California, they were left behind. They weren't mine. Thankfully, my roommate in California owned a few albums. One was Joan Baez' "Diamonds and Rust". My favorite song on that album, "Jesse..."
"...come home there's a hole in the bed
where we've slept..."
Aaaah, yes, now I know why you called.
