purple rain and pink moons

last week we were awash in purple...another musical genius' wings clipped far too soon...purple everywhere obliterating our search for the pink april moon...i've quoted this before...excuse the repeat...but, hell, the candles mount on that birthday cake and soon repeating will be the new norm..."april is the cruellest month"...oh, yes, t.s. eliot...you knew it well...the irony of life, and nature...because promise is often followed by harsh reality...that first warm day, your face to the sun...then, jackets and boots again...spring snow...you get it...but then again...we still have the choice to look for what will bloom amid all that is bleak and dull...and to nurture it well...to look up at the budding trees as your feet skim the garbage on city streets...the juxtaposition...as prince so eloquently sang...to dance in the purple rain...and maybe ignore the sound of doves crying in the distance...

idol worship

and so this past week we said goodbye to "american idol"...the granddaddy of reality tv...i came upon this cultural phenomenon mid-second season...and watched until the last few years when it seemed to be like the guest that overstays...and, also, i discovered "the voice"...and those contestants can sing like nobody's business...but i watched wednesday and thursday...the clips, interviews and contestants from so many years...and smiled...but winced too...the very subtle cruel underbelly of all that was "idol" was the perverse fun in the untalented...whether they were truly people who were clueless that their singing should be contained to the morning shower...or scripted by ratings hungry network executives...there is a meanness in reality tv...and maybe we don't see it anymore as it creeps into daily life and becomes the fabric of what is acceptable...so, do we thrill more at a pure voice that comes from some higher power...or the pitchy wannabes who hang around for weeks batting baby blues and plunging necklines...swagger and scruff...but even this cynic forgave it all...the hot mess of a 15-year-old war horse when they showed Kelly Clarkson, via tape...pure joy in her voice surfing all the notes...while very pregnant...reminding me that sometimes we do get it right...