"Again"

"I read the other day that...."

How often is that true?

How often is it actually the case that one really did read a study by some medical journal? Or a business study? Or whatever? I, for one, am not into the medical journal reading business. As often as not I use this expression as a sincere (and sincerely believed at the time) proxy for, "Somewhere floating through my mental flotsam and jetsam, I vaguely recall that..."

Like this story. I don't recall whether I heard this on NPR, or whether I saw it on TV. Or whether I overheard in line at the post office. Or what have you. I somehow doubt that I read it in a journal on primate psychology. But the story goes as follows. Zookeepers were at wits end in their attempt to get one of their female gorillas to breed. They shipped one male gorilla after another to their zoo, and the female gorilla would having nothing to do with any of these gorilla fellas. (Can you blame her?) She would shun them from the instant they were introduced, and nothing the male gorilla could do did anything to woo her. A lot of chest-beating in vain. It was a time-consuming and expensive task, and ultimately frustrating. For the male gorillas. And for the zookeepers. Then one day one of the gorilla's keepers got the clever idea of trimming expenses and labor by simply judging the female gorilla’s reaction to potential mates by showing her videos of them rather than arranging for their transportation to the zoo.

Which they did. And, not surprisingly, as they rolled the videos of potential Mr. Rights, Ms. Gorilla displayed the same ho-hum attitude as she did in her face-to-face encounters. Not impressed. Been there, done that. One poor male gorilla after another was shown and immediately rejected. That is, until Mr. Big came along. When this guy appeared on screen Ms. Fussy clearly took notice. She became agitated. She tapped on the TV screen, indicating in gorilla sign language, "Oh yeah, baby. Now that’s what I'm talkin’ about." To the zookeepers, there was absolutely nothing discernable of distinction about this male gorilla that shouted "top banana," but to the lady gorilla this Mr. Lucky hit the spot.

So they brought this guy to meet their lady and those crazy kids became fast friends. He was a gentleman, and they grew into each other slowly and respectfully. And you know how the rest unfolded. One thing led to another and, well, Baby Rilla was conceived before too long.

Who would have thunk?

And how do you explain that? Really.

I mean how in the world do you explain that?

Try.

You can’t.

How does one explain immediate attraction? Of any kind? I remember watching how my little girls in pre-school would immediately pair up with this girl or join that small group of little girls. And that was that. Sight unseen these wee ones immediately gravitated toward one another. All the while from my perspective there were lots of kids in the nursery who seemed like perfectly fine preschool friend material. So why this girl and not that one there?

Something subtle, maybe invisible, or perhaps something chemical connected them together. Something subrational.

And so it is with all sorts of attractions. There can be stimuli that pleases an inner piece of our neurological wiring in a kind of simple and basic, or at least, fundamental way that remains mysteriously beyond our poweres of explanation. When I show my photos to Juli, her responses are given in a nano-second, and they're locked in, not subject to negotiable change. (This I know from experience.) She renders judgment in lightning quick fashion.

Nice.

Pretty.

Ooh, I like it.

Trash it.

What, are you kidding? Delete.

Post that one.

And her opinions don’t change. She may soften them to spare my feelings, but they remain what they are. She’s not being stubborn. She just knows what she likes.

And so it is with some things for all of us. There is a lot of music that takes a long time for me to grow into, to discover its patterns and secret (or subtle) delights. But then there’s some music that hits me immediately. I've experienced a few songs that within a half-dozen measures of my first hearing of them have sparked the drug-like high that accompanies new neural paths lit and circuits completed. Yearnings I didn't know existed simultaneously offered and satisfied. Some examples:

Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit."

Brandi Carlile's "The Story"

M.I.A.’s Paper Planes

Mika’s “Happy Ending”

The Animals' "The House of the Rising Sun."

RHCP's "Other side" and "Snow"

U2's “With or Without You”

Dave Brubeck's "Take Five"

I've discovered that there is a very common (nearly foundational) rock/blues four-chord sequence to which I am completely and utterly defenseless to its allure:

I. V. vi. IV. (Major. Major. Minor. Major partial resolve. Repeat infinitely.)

This is not a sophisticated sequence. But it is primal, at least to me. It’s the chord structure of yearning. Of deep burning desire. Of hurt borne from lack. Of partial resolution. It’s the chord structure of unrequited love.

Janet Jackson's "Again" is a nice example of this sequence. “Again” moved me to tears the first time I heard it, and it has moved me on every subsequent hearing. The lyrics are cheesy, I suppose, but I know this only because others tell me so and I have no reason not to believe them. Virtually any words put to that music would likely strike me as perfectly sincere, perfectly believable, perfectly tragic. Juli is amazed I'd love such a schlocky song, but honestly I can't help it. It's a hook I can't avoid. A subrational response. A heroin drip in music form.

And that's how some things are in life, at least for me. Things in which the subrational response overwhelms the rational. For good and, probably as often as not, for ill.

So it goes.

What's the connection of all this silliness to this photo? Not much, not really. (The photo, by the way, is of the atrium of the Blanton Museum of Art in Austin, TX.) Except when I saw this photo I thought to myself, I bet some of my loyal readers will immediately respond positively to this photo. I think it's an okay photo. The blue is pretty. But I think I've learned a few of your tastes well enough to predict a few of you will quite like it.