music that makes you survive..the day, the night, the storm ...

i spend all day inside...let my thoughts wander around the house...got up...made cafe au lait...cut ripe pineapples open..choped them into pieces...and then drowned them under a flood of wodka in a big old glas jar..there used to be hundreds of raspberry bonbons in that jar..years ago when it still belonged to my aunt..i remember when i was a kid i always became desperate because these delcious little purple thingis sticked together like glue and it was always a fight to get one of them out of the glass...my aunt is dead now...a long time..the jar is still here..many things from my past...habitts, traditions and material souvenirs are still here..good and bad..they dont leave me...many of you told me that you like my taste in music after my yesterdays post...and i have to tell you that this is something from my past as well..nowadays i like all kinds of musik... rock, opera, folk, pop and electro too..gimme a martini and some good lounge music and i ll be all flirty in a second...but grown up..grown up i am with jazz and blues...with nina..and dinah..with bessie and billie...with cassandra and diana...with all the good soulfull and heartbreaking tunes of the old jazz standarts...jazz and blues..my love for nina simone..is something..maybe the only thing i have from my mother..maybe the only thing aside the strong will we have in common...especially our adoration for nina simone...the day nina simone died my mother hanged a framed picture of her on the wall and lightet a candle too..she loved her..had met her several times and never became tired to speak about how great nina was live on stage...my mother would make big round eyes and put her hands left and right on her swaying hips to show how, tipsy almost drunk, nina entered the stage..sat down at the piano..play a few tones..then stand up again..start to tell hown she had forgotten her dress in the taxi...how she would call the taxi service and how it was impossible to finde that dress...had anyone seen it..no?..back to the piano...she would start to sing..one or two verses..then she might change her mind..or simply forget the lyrics and start to play another song..maybe two..then she would stand up again..did i already told you about..oh yes..i see...well..i see you there ..are you here on your own honey?..damn..you are sweet baby..nina would smile at the young man ...and so on..like i said my mom never got tired of speaking about nina simone...

for me the music of nina and dinah and billie goes along with a drink..with joy and pain..with tears in need to be dried...but tears dry on their own and all you need is a glas and some good old nina simone...i m grown up with her voice..the piano..my mother played her where ever we lived...back then i didnt knew anything about nina and her music and its meaning..i didnt knew i would hold on to whiskey and cry on the kitchenfloor..i didnt knew i would sit in a taxi driving through new orleans with nina playing on the radio..i didnt knew i would grow up and play nina simone when i d cook for my dinnerparties...i didnt knew anything back then...all i knew was that it was a good day when my mother were standing in the kitchen, singing "summertime" or "here comes the sun" or when she was sitting in her studio working on a painting or a design and gently hummed along the tunes of " i want a little sugar in my bowl"..."the ginhouse blues" or "you can have him" were signs that the day wasnt that good at all and that i d better be a invisible kid until moms mood would brighten up...those days is were when her mood would be mean and angry..but still nina would make it right somehow...on those days i would find my mother in her bedroom..in front of her mirror table...she would smoke a lot and her glass would have no break and would never be empty..she put on her best dresses..walk up and down the room, cut curls from her hair and look out of the window...
danielle she would say and her tongue would be sharp like broken glas animals...i was only 5 or 6..i didnt know anything about beeing depressive or heartbroken..danielle she would say...isnt your mommy the most beautiful mommy in the world???...and all i knew was that i d better smile and say yes yes yes..my mommy is the most beautiful mommy in the world...that was all i knew..i didnt knew that by the age of 13 i wouldnt be allowed anymor eto call her mommy...because, she said, to have such an old son would make her look way too old...

nina simone is all i kept...and dinah..and bessie as well as billie and all the others...because that and a stiff drink..is what brings me trough many days..nights & storms