Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it: if a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned (Solomon 8.7)
Love is a fire that burns fiercely on an inexhaustible supply of fuel. The combined forces of the New York Fire Department couldn’t extinguish it. Even if it was submerged under Noah’s deluge, love would remain defiantly alight – hot and bright – like some submarine volcano that’s constantly erupting magma from between tectonic plates on the seabed. Adversity is no match for love. Neither distance, separation, prohibition, discouragement (be that dissuasion or dispiritedness), and circumstance, nor even death itself, can dampen its flames. Love abides, whatever the external conditions and prospects.
As the Beatles song says: ‘Money can’t buy you love’. People of power, wealth, and influence can purchase another person’s body and company for the purposes of self gratification, the exercise of control, and faking intimacy. But the other’s love isn’t up for sale. The very thought is repellant. You have to earn affection. Love cannot be bought, bribed or bargained for. Only given, voluntarily and generously.
7.00 am: A communion. 7.45 am: Back to project assessment until 8.50 am and a jaunt into town to undertake necessities:
Chemists, ATM, bank, postbox, ‘Smiffs’ and, finally, the opticians – to speculate:
I’ve a smallish face, so full-framed glasses make it look over crowded. They also make me resemble the spy Harry Palmer, played by Michael Caine, in the Ipcress Files (1962). I have neither his sophistication, drinking habits, weaponry, or proclivity for womanising to pull it off. So I play safe, and go for rimless every time.
10.00 am: Back at my desk, I returned to marking, with Terry Riley’s seminal A Rainbow in Curved Air (1969) playing in the background. The last script is invariably the most demanding and problematic.
2.00 pm: Studiology. I reviewed yesterday’s edit before going on with section 3. Prior to that, I listened again to parts of the albums that I’d already completed – just to establish the highest watermark that I’d achieved thus far in The Aural Bible trilogy. What I do now must be at least as good as the best that I’ve done. Again, ruthlessness was my governing attitude:
3.00 pm: The whole was now only 15 minutes in length, with the possibility of further shaving after equalisation. 5.15 pm: Three more minutes were on the editing floor (as it were).
7.30 pm: Washing basket smalls dispatched, I reviewed the afternoon’s work. If I reduce the composition’s length any further, I risk throwing out the baby with the bath water. The final section ends abruptly, as did Ranger 7 when it impacted the surface of the Moon at the end of its mission:
Ranger 7 (courtesy of WikiCommons)
Finally, having completed the composition, I moved to post-production and mastering: some provisional solutions. The full implementation of ‘finishing’ will not take place until the CDs are prepared for manufacture.