Bliss/feels like this

Bliss/has to be this

It’s like a dream/But dreams can’t be this good

Every time I’ve quoted these words has been a time associated with a start of a romantic relationship or falling for someone or being in a situation with a special person. Unfortunately, inside of me, those moments would pass and leave behind just traces of regret, loss, and sadness.

Perhaps for the first time ever, only seen before in a glimpse when I signed with Mash Entertainment (nothing has come of the contract yet, btw), this feeling of bliss is here, it’s permanent, and it’s induced only calm and deep contentment.

Two weeks ago, I was offered to be partner of an upcoming jazz lounge in Johannesburg. I had actually thought of the idea first and I was very close to e-mailing her, pitching the idea to her. But I held back; it was also the same night I resigned from my current role at Jobs.co.za. I didn’t want to jump the gun on something that wasn’t my dream. However, I thought about it further. Jazz. Restaurant. Music. Artists. Film. Tech. It seemed like the perfect union of all my interests and skills.

The night I thought of the idea was the night that I received an e-mail from her telling me that her original partner is no longer involved. When that happened, the idea, whose luminance was weak and sentimental before, became stronger and more powerful in me. It became a glow, a dream. I suddenly saw this image of a future where I sing and get paid for it, live off it, and to be content working full-time in jazz and food.

I met up with Sam the night after that e-mail from her. I replied back saying I have an idea and I want to pitch it to you. We met up at the usual spots of hers at Spur’s, Fourways. And we stayed there for a good three or four hours. And when I pitched my idea, a bit anxious that she may get uncomfortable because she has to respectfully decline, I found her face light up with a smile with the wattage of a concert spotlight. ‘I had wanted to talk to you about this for ages too but I felt that you were already too busy’.

From then on, we talked about all aspects of the idea, preparation, business plan, presentation to investors. And I, still raw from the difficult week at dayjob, began to forget and to get lost in the sea of opportunity and dreams. I was swimming happily, not even swimming, floating, letting the sun shine down on my skin. It was a great moment.

The way life sometimes comes about is very interesting. My involvement with Carter’s prior to all this talk of partnership was that I had written an e-mail to Sam, outlining all of the possible services I can offer to her through Enflesh Films and otherwise. Sam suggested that we meet up and discuss my proposal. The meeting was positive and I followed it up with a written proposal that went down well with her. And since then, she has been talking to me, getting my opinion on this or that. Nothing too hectic.

I don’t remember now when it happened, but at some point after I accepted partnership, Sam and I spent a night, listening to jazz on DSTV radio, smoking cigarrettes, and discussing all things Carter’s. It was a beautiful, serene evening, reminding me of my sleepless nights at college, staying up late with my friend Dhruv, smoking and listening to George Carlin on repeat. I think I slept around 5am and it was a deep, content sleep.

We are aiming to open Carter’s at the end of this year. I am to be the resident lounge singer. When this finally sunk in, it hit someting very deep and very visceral.

Back in 1997, I wrote an epic song for a girl with whom I was deeply infatuated in high school. I got to halfway through the lyrics and I stopped. I couldn’t finish it. I then went to Egypt with family that year for our yearly Christmas vacation. And there, I spent the usual inordinate amount of time with my beloved cousin Fatigue, a guy I haven’t seen in 7 years now. Fatigue is a talented and passionate musician and artist. So I told him about the song and the predicament I was facing. He looked at me and smiled, telling me to wait. ‘It will come’.

Soon after, I fell asleep for a short nap, the kind that involved short bursts of visceral, often unexplainable dreams. It was a strange image.

I’m in a smoky lounge. It’s at the end of the night and I’m standing up, in front of the microphone. There’s one guy sitting in the front row to the left and another mildlyvisible silhouette to the right. I hear myself singing:

lyin’ alone/waiting for you to carry me home

End of image, dream. I wake up. I play it back in my mind and it makes sense. The next line comes intuitively:

and I know you’re the one/the one from God

So, the bridge of my epic came to me. And I furiously spent the next hours, writing out the verses of the next section of the song, the section having a different rhythm and feel. Then, another block. I went to Fatigue. I showed him the new bridge and lyrics. I told him the story; he looked at me and smiled. I felt that he either understood or that he had that happen too.

In his quiet, unassuming way, he said to me: “Leave it with me, let me see if I can help”.

I came back to him after a few days. He fished with skill the paper out of a mound of papers and study notes. He showed me the lyrics. It was beautiful, perfect, and fitting. As if he and I shared the same mind and soul and wrote this song with different hands, but the same shared heart.

It seems then that the lounge in the dream could be or can very likely be Carter’s. And the moment will come when I will stand up to sing my first set at this then mythic, now real and mythic lounge, to welcome people to Carter’s, and to herald the opening of this amazing jazz lounge.

And I hope that Fatigue will be there, sitting to the left slightly, smoking his cigarette, completing the beauty and sublimeness of that dream in ‘97 in magical Cairo.