Shut up and witness

I have filked a Mary Chapin Carpenter tune

 

Don’t mean to say that I am an ally, don’t mean to get ahead of where we are
Don’t mean to act a little racist around you, I’m just a little racist in my heart ’cause
It’s been awhile since I felt this feeling that everything in the news gives me
It’s been so long since somebody whispered
Shut up and witness

Didn’t expect to be in this position, didn’t expect to have to rise above
My reputation as a social critic, I’ve been a lazy lady about one love but
Oh the horror and the feelings that the  latest shooting  gives me
It’s been too long since yelled in my good ear
Shut up and witness

My filking friend Andrew Ross wrote this

all such things as copyright belong to him  If you know the song, you’ll be howling by the end, and I think it’s a masterpiece

SONG-O-MATIC #15-13
Tune = Taylor Swift, “Shake it Off”
Definitely doing this one at Sasquan. Definitely needs a music video.

I don’t know how to play
I read my life away
That’s what people say, uh-huh
And then they look away

What I put on display
May rub them the wrong way
Well, be that as it may, uh-huh
I’m doing it my way

I’m animating, I’m not hibernating
It’s so fascinating, I’m at the World Con, and it’s gonna be alright

‘Cause the panelists will speak, speak, speak, speak, speak, speak
And the filkers gonna shriek, shriek, shriek, shriek, shriek, shriek
We’re gonna have all week, week, week, week, week, week, week
To geek it up, geek it up!
The cosplay will be chic, chic, chic, chic, chic, chic
And steampunk is antique, tique, tique, tique, tique, tique
It’s all in the technique, nique, nique, nique, nique, nique
We’ll geek it up, we’ll geek it up!

Sci-fi and fantasy
They set my spirit free
And that’s what they don’t see, uh-huh
They don’t see why I squee

The stories that they show (stories that they show)
That make my spirit grow (make my spirit grow)
That’s what they don’t know, uh-huh
They don’t know where I go

But I’m just nerdy, literate and wordy
Filking till 4:30, we’re at the World Con and it’s gonna be alright

‘Cause creators will create, rate, rate, rate, rate, rate
The animators animate, mate, mate, mate
The artists gonna illustrate, strate, strate, strate
And geek it up, and geek it up!
The writers will narrate, rate, rate, rate, rate
Their tales exhilarate, rate, rate, rate
I wanna hyperventilate, late, late, late
And geek it up! And geek it up!

I geek it up! I geek it up! I geek it up! I geek it up!
I geek it up! I geek it up! I geek it up! I geek it up!

Hey-hey-hey, just think while you’ve been getting down and posting comment after comment about that rotten old Hugo ballot, you could be getting down to the biggest geek party we got going!

My best friend’s moping at my door
Going, “Oh my God, the puppies piddled on the floor!”
I just took her to explore with the fella dressed like Thor
And with a rebel yell, we cried More, More, More!

‘Cause the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, hate
Don’t matter what they nominate, nate, nate, nate
Just No-Award the slate, slate, slate, slate, slate, slate
And geek it up, and geek it up!
And daleks will exterminate, nate, nate, nate
And succubi will undulate, late, late, late
And I for one can’t wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait
To geek it up! To geek it up!

We geek it up! We geek it up! We geek it up! We geek it up!
We geek it up! We geek it up! We geek it up! We geek it up!

My creative commons stuff does not apply to the above noted song, this parody belongs to Andrew Ross.

Practice day

I couldn’t write, I couldn’t work on the church project, I was swithering like a’ idiot, so I said it’s a Mental Health Day and when Paul called and said, “Let’s give blood” I said “What a great idea but I can’t stand it for today.  I’m coming to your place with my mandolin on my back.” So I walked over there and it started to rain just as I got to the stairs and he left the front door open and I went up the back stairs so he had to go lock his front door and we had a good laugh about that and then I played Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked for him, which he hadn’t heard before.  I left him the lyrics and chords, and played it enough times that he started to work up some guitar and I started to practically bleed out my finger ends. It hurts to type today, bwa ha ha. Then we played our way though a couple of Oscar Brand air force tunes, I played my way through the In the Lineup for the Ferry song (I had played it through once and this time he could play along) and then we dawdled and noodled and messed about for a couple of hours, him marvelling that I FINALLY have the intonation problems sorted out on Otto.  He’s been out of sorts since GAFilk and he’s now perfect (gotdamn that floating bridge!!! it’s the one thing Peter C. did when he was making Otto that I hate) and if anything he’s louder and more resonant than before. Then I played Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked AGAIN a couple of times because I’ve shifted how I play it a bit, and was now comfortable enough that a) the tune as sung was actually sounding a bit more like the recording and b) the chord structure still doesn’t sound like the recording but it’s better.  Then I told him that if we ever play it when Katie and Keith are present for music night they will be singing along with the choruses – Katie and I had it as part of the ‘get going’ music mix for the café – and Keith knows it from the opening titles of Gearbox’s video game Borderlands, which we used to rewatch all the time because it’s like the best opening title in gaming.

Then he fed me lentil soup and beer and crusty white bread toasted with butter and a Non Refrigerated apple – the last apple he served for me nearly made my back teeth pick up their skirts and flee, it was so durn cold – but I admired his new fridge, for a net cost of $175 he got a bottom drawer freezer Kenmore with the door hung the right way although he did nearly spavin himself getting it up the stairs and he now has to replace all the brand new nosing for the stair treads ’cause they all have divots in them now.  (It looks like an alien dragged its nasty bits up to the first floor.) Apparently Keith hated the old fridge and did handsprings when he saw the new one and realized that HE wasn’t going to get roped into hauling it up the stairs (his job is very physical) or getting the old one out.

I told him about Replens, as Lady Miss Banjola had told me about it, and how along with eye drops the advice given ensured my life was a better place, except it’s FRIKKIN expensive and could he find eight packs in the States for me and he said he’d look.

We discussed putting together a book of family stories from his side of the family, while his mum’s still with us (doing fine apparently), as inspired by mOm’s numerous efforts, talked about some flying he’d been doing (he’s enjoying the soaring in Enumclaw, and of course I crack up every time I hear that name, for all the wrong reasons.) We talked about Keith and Katie and their marvellous young lives and challenges, the retirement party he went to at the Shark Club (where, apparently, the last pleasant drink servers in the lower Mainland have taken refuge) and the highly excellent noms he ingested there.

Then he took me for a quick shop including healthy food and unhealthy noms and beer AND helped me haul in groceries.  If there is a nicer ex in the whole universe then whoever has him / her isn’t publicly bragging.

Then at home we watched a couple of titles from the second season of POI and I turned the steak into itty pieces and cooked it fast with mushrooms and lots of onions and chili seasoning, not too much, and so to bed, where I got 2.2 hours on the cpap and am now ready to start another day, and maybe get a little more done.  Maybe.  Not a betting woman normally.

Housefilk

Attending, Alex and Alex and Katie and Paul and Keith and Mike and Cindy and Tom and Peggy and we sang and played and laughed and ate and it was most excellent.

Thank you Paul for hosting.

Happy sigh.

No hours, 440 words.

Today I’m cooking up something for the circle dinner tonight and maybe going to Mike Beach this afternoon.

Miles does it again

My filking buddy Andrew, who goes by Miles Vorkosigan on facebook, read or pretended to read a book that would allow you to write better horror.

The book made him facepalm.  So he decided to write a trashy horror novelists description of a facepalm, and then got carried away and did multiple versions.  I hope you enjoy this cascade of awful as much as I did, because I laughed until I sprang a rib.  Since I didn’t write this, copyright belongs to Andrew.

 

ABOMINATIONS OF HUMAN ENDEAVOUR: Before reading this book: “Face, meet palm.”

After reading this book:

My palm described a perfect arc as it rushed towards my face.

There was an audible CLAP as my palm struck my face.

I felt a sharp stab of pain, every bit as intense as the emotional pain I felt from reading this link, as I struck my own face with my palm.

Before my face even had time to brace for the impact, my palm was upon it.

My palm swished through the air and landed with a dull, sickening thud across my face.

It was like that legendary baseball game back in ’42, when Babe Ruth hit the winning run right out of the park–only instead of the final, inexorable crack of the bat hitting the ball, it was the final, inexorable crack of my palm meeting my face.

My palm struck my face with all the impact of a Mack Semi, having left Chicago heading east at 2:pm at 60 mph, colliding with a freight train that left Cleveland heading west at 1 p.m. travelling 80 mph.

Out there, in the darkness, something *watched* me facepalm myself.

My palm was out there at the end of my arm, mocking me. “Mi-yuls”, it seemed to say, “Here I am, Mi-yuls! And I’m coming to GET you! You know you lose control over me when you read something breathtakingly stupid enough—you always do. And now it’s party time. I’m coming for your face. And I’m hard. Hard and calloused from that workout this morning. And sweaty too. Get ready, Mi-yuls, for the mother of all facepalms!”

Once again…. this is Andrew’s, but really I think it belongs to the world.

Some progress

Used CPAP last night.  The Liposic allowed me to open my eyes without creaking this morning (still dreffle dry, but not the :spend twenty minutes thinking sad thoughts to get my tear ducts to work so I can open them: dry of yesterday morning, which was a horrid start to the day). My new routine is Liposic at night since I can’t see a ****ing thing when I put that stuff in, and Systane in the morning since it is much runnier.  I am also going to start supplementing with evening primrose oil again and start monitoring how many hours a day I am at the computer and watching tv, which will probably horrify me into a neurasthenic stupor.  Also I have to drink water or tea instead of coffee, GRRR.

The congregational dinner was absolutely lovely and I sang Tapioca, but my almost new medical problem (self-diagnosed from symptoms, so YMMV, and almost certainly triggered by my slip and fall in the shop although the broken shoulder got all the attention) fixed it so that by the end I was barely able to walk, drive or lift anything, which given that I was on the cleanup crew didn’t halp.  I am good for about 2.5 k of walking before the pain is so bad I start to waddle (which is characteristic) and all the strength goes out of my legs, (ditto). When I got out of bed this morning all the bones in that region of my body grated and popped like a ship’s rigging in bad weather.

As this is almost certainly the consequence of not having proper foot support and wearing the same shoes day in and day out (which Chipper has warned me about many times) I need to drag myself off to the doc and get a scrip (again, I lost the first one) for  foot support and to quit walking barefoot in the house, since anytime I put my foot to the floor without arch support I’m just being an idiot and making it worse.

Last night as I was driving home a passenger jet came so close to the ground as I was driving along 10th between 8th and 6th that I nearly drove off the road, and then it BANKED like it was heading into the ground.  I have no problem with jets flying over my house as long as they are 1000 ft AGL like they are supposed to be, but that close scared the bejabbers outta me.

Chili and buns for today’s meal has been prepared or purchased.  I’ll head over to Planet Bachelor at some point after church.

So tired… all I can think of is coffee, and I shouldn’t.

Why won’t you die? (It’s a song, don’t worry)

Here it is…

Also, I thought I’d lost a different SG1 song, and it turns out I haven’t.  I’ll have to construct a new tune for the verse, but the chorus (the most important part of the song) is still firmly lodged.

Yesterday was an editing as opposed to writing day, but I still ploughed through some stuff on section 2, mostly in the “minions find the hologrammic skeleton” section.  I also did laundry, cleaned up cat puke and cat litter, baked a banana cake, ran the dishwasher, talked to a bunch of my friends on the phone and drank far too much coffee.

I think it’s possible I had the CPAP on for as much as four hours last night.  I get very dry eyes and it’s hard to swallow.

Buster is just as affectionate as ever.  Apparently he enjoys my skritches.  He has learned how to scoot his ass across the floor to scratch his bum where the surgery was, since it probably still itches like fury, and whenever he does it I burst out laughing, for never did I see a cat so locomote.  He can get up quite a turn of speed.  When he still had the cone on he was dreaming about cleaning himself in his sleep.  (Paw twitching, tongue coming dreamily out in licking motions).  He has finally policed himse’f up to the point he no longer smells, which is probably a relief to everyone.  He’s still pestering Margot, and yet they sleep in the same room, every day.

I will be getting chicken and chili ingredaments today for my various activities today – Jeff got home from various work related stuff so late I didn’t feel like going out.  Kids are going to Victoria, yay!  My mOm is kvelling herself into a little groove there, I’m quite sure.

Vampire, pass by

Paul and I gave blood yesterday. (I drained in 8 minutes, a new personal record!) He was joshing with the phlebotomist and she turns to me and asks if she can trust him and I said, blandly, “He’s my ex so I’m the wrong person to ask” which triggered much hilarity. Paul clots so fast he literally does not have to put pressure on the sticking point, and the vampire didn’t believe him. I bruise like crazy so I follow the instructions.
 
I know it sounds kinda weird but I think of giving blood as a kind of communion; it connects me to strangers who need my help, and it connects me with John, who gave a lot of blood over the course of his life, and it connects me to the rest of my family; Katie and I and Paul and Keith all give blood when so able, and mOm gave gallons when she was a nurse.
I drove both ways.  Traffic was good, traffic was good.
Around 7 I felt like all the air had been let out of my tires so I crashed; looks like I got a solid 8 hours of sleep.
Sue and I had a lovely (and for me, hobbitly) breakfast at Ricky’s on Lougheed Coquitlam yesterday.  We noted a side room which might work okay for pub night although there’s no good transit close by; she’s going to advise the minister.
Just learned that South Fraser is being kicked out of their home.  I light a candle for them finding space cheap, fast, painlessly.
I have a song that the Conflikt folks really like in this year’s songbook, so even if I can’t go (money…) I will still represent.
Archer’s back!

At last a deadline

I am going to try to complete a couple of songs in Songwriter so I can export them as PDFs and get them into the Conflikt song book.

Much as it pains me to say it, I can’t afford to make trips to the US and otherwise spend the income I have, so I am going to go to $15 worth of church event as opposed to the $500 con.  Yes – I could spend less but I don’t like going to a convention if I have to bunk in with anyone else for the usual reasons, like my privacy requirements now I’m no longer a live in parent are rather absurdly high.

So I’ll be sending the songs along instead.  I’ll send Gateway and Dishing with Joyce, since Fred Pohl’s stuff is going to be commercialized over the next couple of years (I believe it’s going to be a tv show, which would likely work fine, helmed correctly) and Buffy never stops being popular with certain crowds and the Scoobie gang have dozens of songs and Joyce not so much. I find it amusing that I have repurposed a song with was a song about a crush on a coworker into a filk, but one of the great appeals of filk is how it mashes things together into a great media pulp.

Saw Mike yesterday, and he popped by later, after he fed me a light supper at the Oliver Twist, and I will be seeing Sue for brekkie this morning to feast her for her birthday.  She is so wonderful, I am sure we will have a lovely earflapping. For she is the Great She-Elephant, and I am her dear chum.

Okay, enough demonstrating that I left the house yesterday (I did twice, and with all the cat commotion with Buster and his collar Jeff did three times) and I have friends, I gots work to do, coffee to make and songs about Giant Squids (words) (music) to listen to for its inspirational effect on my opus.

All is merry and bright

  1. Paul gave me and Jeff motion detector lights; the upgetting to pee is now a lot easier.  Paul’s approach to Christmas gifts is to buy a bag of useful objects and let you pick which one you like – this year the theme was light, so it was headlamp, motion detector light or keychain flashlight.
  2. I was really resentful about ‘having’ to do Christmas dinner, and then I asked myself what it would take to be less resentful.  I immediately thought “If I don’t have to buy the turkey and lug it home!”  To which Paul happily agreed, and Keith lugged it over here.  Resentment vanished, I went to Granville Island with Tammy for the rest of the veg and happily lugged that home.
  3. I made vegan squash soup – there wasn’t enough for everybody and it was damned good.
  4. so much good beer – pumpkin ale, winter ale, shipwreck IPA! Tammy brought some nice wine.
  5. The turkey was good – the meat delicious, the skin like an advertisement – but what was really amazing was the gravy. I ended up eating it cold as a side for leftover pie, and it was SO GOOD.  It was pan dripping gravy.  I stuck the pan drippings in a blender, added a tablespoon of cake flour and about half a cup of milk, blended the shit out of it and then nuked it for a minute.  From such pedestrian beginnings came a voluptuously smooth gravy with a meaty and almost nutty flavour.
  6. Mike and Tammy and Paul and Katie and Keith and I sang and played afterwards, and Alex grooved along.  He really really likes music, and he is most fabulously strong.  He apparently likes his Christmas present, which was a stuffed T Rex. Paul introduced Tammy to Never Set the Cat on Fire, which was wonderful.
  7. Wine was spilled on Granny’s linen tablecloth… horrors! and it came out again the next morning with some Amaze.  Tablecloth is clean, folded and ready for use.
  8. Earlier this week I got the lobster dinner I have been drooling for, except it was lunch, and it was with Tammy, so it was pretty much perfect.
  9. Although the kitchen is once again the habitation of orcs this morning, I HAD cleaned up and ran a dishwasher and got rid of the empties and straightened out the living room the next morning and returned some sanity to the proceedings.
  10. Today I hope to get cat litter.  With two cats, more shit.  It is the law.
  11. Autumn is a boy.  He is now Buster.  Jeff and I are fine with this, but not fine with not noticing earlier.  He will be snipped in a week or so.
  12. He has been to the vet for suturing because he’s already gotten in fights. Margot was disturbed by him before, but with a cone on his head she is Miss Hissy each time he approaches.
  13. I am really enjoying everybody’s pics of how happy their Christmas has been.  The various traditions from around the world and around the various ethnicities of my friends and flist make me happy in their variety and conviviality.
  14. I am sad to have missed Christmas Eve service because it was the last time a certain church member will ever provide music for us, because he is awesome, but also sick.  As sad as I am about this, I made happy memories in my own home with my loves and kin.
  15. Keith was sober, and he was Mom’s taxi.  He: ferried Tammy to and from Edmonds, drove his sister home, drove Rob to Church and drove Mike and his Dad home.  As happy as I was to see Alex, Keith did a lot to make the evening perfect, and I am now considering (which I can do here, since he never reads my blog, haw haw) how I shall appropriately reward him for his service.
  16. A car was stolen from in front of our house at 3:30 am Christmas morning.  I spoke to a Burnaby RCMP officer about it… Jeff and I were asleep at the time, or in no position to see what was happening.  I thanked her for working Christmas Day and wished for her to stay safe out there.
  17. I made chocolate cake.  I am thinking perhaps cinnamon rolls later. The turkey soup is made and in the freezer.

This concludes my report….

Yay, it’s an Alexander day!

Alex will be at church with Katie, or so it was arranged and I piously hope will come to pass.  I do coffee today so it’s even money whether or not I get to be upstairs for the homily portion.  Sue is taking me in early and I’ll do an inventory and see if there’s enough of whatnot for coffee etc., then cross the street and pick it up.  Happy daze.  Should be a good homily though. Marilyn asked me to do another homily for January 4 – one of the worst attended days of the year – so I’m going to do what I can to boost the numbers.  If you’re reading this, why not come to church that day!!??

THE GREAT YULETIDE COOKIEPALOOZA happens next Friday.  It will turn into a filk.  A messy messy housefilk, with crumbs and greasy thumbprints on the music.  Yes, indeed.  Thanks to Tom and Peggy for hosting.  We will also have the AMERICAN CONTINGENT, being the uber crafty Jeri-Lynn and the suavely geeky Jeff.  Who are just so awesome.  Cindy and possibly others will attend also.

It’s raining.  After yesterday’s glorious sun (which I got to walk around in, thanks to Paul not understanding that the Brighton Costco parking lot at 11 am is the worst fucking place in the known universe and how long precisely has he been living in Burnaby grumble grumble, but no harm done).  I drove through the parking lot and then drove back to Planet Bachelor and walked home from there, accompanied by Keith who just felt like continuing the conversation, which was pleasant, and made the walk back go in an eyeblink.  I needed the exercise.  I really wanted to pick some stuff up at Costco because there’s some bread there I can’t find anywhere else plus cheap butter and you know, baking, but perhaps I can borrer the car.  Apart from the walk and the abortive Costco trip I basically stayed in bed crying all day, but I’m feeling much better now.  Tammy is coming in December! Conflikt 8 (I can scarcely credit it…) is coming! And I still haven’t registered or figured out how I am getting there.  If I’m staying extra long I may need to like, bus it.  Bleaaugh.

I love my mOm and pOp.  mOm provided the correct stream of unfiltered bubbliness (occasionally going off mike to inform pOp of my responses) to assist with my bad case of the Marthambles – why, she’s better than a dose of Dr. Tufts finest elixir.

Still no cat.  I suspect what has happened is that the daughter has flung herself on the ground and pleaded her mom not to let Autumn go and the mom has been too embarrassed to tell Jeff she’s changed her mind, but perhaps Jeff is right and it’s just taking longer than expected.  Sometimes I think this culture is so indulgent to its children because these are the last good days and everybody’s trying to make them seem extra special.

I removed an incredible amount of hair surplus to requirements from Margot yesterday.  She was not amused.

Day five of Vitamin D, Vitamin C, B6, probiotics and MSM.  I am definitely feeling less achey, except for my hands, which is making me not want to play my Otto.

Jeff’s playing computer games on line with somebody, I assume Andrew – I can hear him talking to somebody on the headset.  “I think we just combined to kill one of our own tanks!” is the latest.

With sadness, I have cancelled the piano lessons.  He wasn’t listening to my course corrections and I’m not paying a man $35 bucks an hour to ignore me when I can have it for free any time I want on the internet.

My most recent painting is an unmitigated disaster.  I am going to paint over it.  I got the colours right but the design has much suckage – I think I’ll paint over it as a zombie heart.

Now to make a chocolate cake for church and figure out what I am going to wear.  And I have to remember to take a tape measure, for I mean to measure some crania, I do, I do, for future hatmaking endeavours.  Hats and spats. Cravats with cats. Fingerless gloves and pleather utility belts. I have to figure out how to make a living, and since there seems to be an inexhaustible interest in the steampunk aesthetic, I shall pursue that hobby for a while.

 

The Philae Bounce

TTTO The Jersey Bounce.  Extra credits if you can imagine Ella Fitzgerald singing it.

 

They call it that Philae bounce
Miscalculate by an ounce
The ESA tension mounts
Wherever they aimed, they really should feel no shame

It started in Darmstadt town
Decided to put it down
On Comet 67P
That’s quite a feat you will agree

Somehow, screws didn’t grab
Somehow, not like the lab
No grip, makes it bounce, real high
Microgravity

So if you are feeling blue
Go out to some space venue
And whether you’re hep or not
The Philae bounce’ll make you swing

(scat)
How I love that Philae bounce
(scat)
Oh come on replay that Philae bounce
(scat)

Ounce by ounce
The Philae Bounce
Puts you right in the swing
That Philae Bounce
It’ll make you swing

Give me that Philae Bounce.

Singing

I know it’s  very weird to be rehearsing with a band that I’m not part of, but given that Mayhem has constraints (how can Mayhem HAVE constraints) that I can’t get into, because, strangely, reasons involving stupidity on the part of others in foreign climes, I kind of have to.  I suppose that wasn’t really a useful or discursive thing to say.  But I was singing last night and Peggy fed me and Shad an awesome dinner.  I loves me some Peggy.

I am writing, I am editing, and it all goes glacially slowly.  About three hundred words a day and maybe a page of edits.

I am seeing if I can go more than a couple of weeks without drinking.  I no longer seem able to process beer and it makes me really really sad.  It shouldn’t because, hey, water comes out of a tap and that was Adam’s ale, and Vancouver has the best municipal water system in the world, and the tap water is yummy, but I all sad face. Like I want to make a painting of a stubby or something.  Also, there is no chocolate cake in the house.  There should at least be cookies.  And I can always make more cake.  There is a drained lake of beer in my heart that only cake or possibly cookies can fill.

People want to know how much I’m seeing Alexander.  I’m seeing him as much as his mother and I agree seems to be right, and while it could be more, my own dear Grandma didn’t see me until I was walking, and it really helps to keep a sense of perspective about these matters.  If somebody wants my advice they can scarcely get the request out before I’m a-schpraying them, firehose-wise, with a side of and-another-things.  I have concerns of my own, thank the dear one.  Being an introvert Grandma is an interesting experience.