Friday, February 27, 2009
"I can look at this face until the end of time"- TPC
I've being listening to Schumann's Romance for Violin and Piano. Yesterday, I saw the Divine Garbo in Camille. Not a small feat for my 19th Century heart. And I do have one. Oh Garbo, Garbo, what a husky sensuous accent ridden voice you had. There was a scene where she is magnificently dressed. Sparkling from head to toes, nuanced magically in black and white glory. Her hair is full of diamond five pointed stars. She is a vision to behold. I had always imagined her to be a close relative to Glinda, the good witch . Boy, did I ever wanted to do that accent. Glinda's I mean. It is so funny and lofty at the same time. It's a giggle. You see, I love accents. In fact, I have one. When I saw Penelope Cruz winning her Oscar the other night I felt validated. Her accent and mine are not that distant. Mine is not that thick, though it could be if I am aggravated or indignant. We have 5 vowel sounds in Spanish. English, on the other hand, has 4,526,231 vowel sounds. Not easy. Words like "sheet" and "peace" are a nightmare for me. They come out as something else I wish not to mention. R's are a problem too. In Spanish I roll my arse, I mean R's. But in American English words like "batteries" and "Florida" make me salivate in great profusion. After midnight, when my Spanish accent has overtaken any fluidity left in my English I sound like a sophisticated version of Sylvester, the cat. Or rather, like a drunken version of mellifluous Ricardo Montalbán (Requiescat In Pace). As I grow older I have come to love my own Spanish accent. It gives my English a melodic quality all of its own. I used to practice in front of the mirror for hours words like, well "mirror" to try to get rid of my accent. I used to imitate Tom Brokaw because I thought, good riddance!, that he had a neutral accent. One person asked me if I was a migrant worker from South Dakota. Whatever. Now, I embrace my peculiar accent with joy because it is uncommon, to a degree, and because I better do since I cannot possibly get rid of it. So, Q.E.D., me and Garbo do have something in common.