Claire

It's been a while since I last published a song.

I've been called upon at work to save a dying project. This whole ordeal has been draining my sanity day after day. It feels a lot like Experiment #9296 (Some People), where that damn Clown got the better of me.

Regardless, I've been practicing, trying out different instruments and styles, just haven't felt inspired to publish.

See... I have a favorite book. Bear with me.

If you're not from Brazil, you've probably never heard of it. It's called "The Posthumous Memoirs of Brás Cubas." In the original Portuguese, "Memórias Póstumas de Brás Cubas." I read it in junior high and never managed to forget it.

I won't spoil that masterpiece for you. But there's a line at the end I've never gotten out of my head:

"I had no children; I transmitted to no one the legacy of our misery."

That has been the cornerstone of my whole stance on not having kids. Which doesn't mean I'm not happy when someone else decides to go that way.

It just so happens that this week my niece was born. Her name is Claire.

Seeing some of her first photos made me think about how crazy those first few minutes must be. A lot of people talking, bright lights, air filling up her lungs, the sound of her own crying echoing through the room. It must be hectic, absorbing reality all at once.

Just like you, I've been there once myself. I don't have the memory of those first few minutes.

So I made one.

Being the nihilistically fun uncle that I am, I decided to try and capture that ineffable moment in a song.

P.S. Don't read the book until you're older, Claire.