Day: June 25, 2008

I wrote a song last night. Like, late last night.

As soon as I got in the car to drive home last night I wrote a song. I’ll be posting the lyrics to my LJ, as looked at in the bright light of morning they seem, uh, a little on the ‘back of the hand to the forehead’ end of the spectrum, not that there’s anything wrong with that, that’s sort of what songs are for. Oh well, this is what happens when you challenge yourself to write something that doesn’t have a happy ending.

I know I’ve said this about 100 times and I keep forgetting it, but seeing live music is a really important feed for creativity. I just saw three live bands in a week! No wonder I start getting all antsy, and walking down the street singing. I wish I wasn’t so wasp-y sometimes, I’d sing in public a lot more.

Just for fun, a fraction of the lyrics for ‘The Hardworking Locksmiths of Sunnydale” which I started writing on Sunday.

When I got out of locksmith school

In the year of ninety seven

The old pros told me that there is

A locksmith’s earthly heaven

Be prepared, they told me

For work on work galore

But make sure that your stomach’s strong

You’ll see a LOT of gore

O Sunnydale, O Sunnydale

until you disappeared

You helped me pay my mortgage off

But man, you sure were weird.

What a bleeping day

To preserve the dignity and privacy of those involved, I will not recount some of the events of this evening. Nobody was injured, the cats are fine, and I won’t speak for Jeff but I would describe my current mental state as “spitting out feathers”.

Jericho was fine; I heard my first ever submarine shanty, which really is a fine thing to be able to say, the other performers were wonderful, Ballyhooley was great, they did a kickass version of Wraggle Taggle Gypsies and one of them plays uillean pipes ver’ well.  And there was an octave mando and more fracking pipes with holes in ’em than you imagine one guy lugging around.

Paul and Keith showed up, and just as promptly, disappeared, due to scheduling issues. I hung til ten but I had to get the car back to Joyce Station.

One block north of Joyce Station, and may the laws of probability and a pterodactyl’s left great claw be thanked that I had my back turned to this jackass, I heard a guy who hawked up a throat oyster so big that it was carrying a cell phone with ease – I heard the sucker bounce on the ground – and then he made an even MORE incredibly loud noise which sounded like somebody trying to clear a vacuum cleaner hosepipe jammed full of liver with a toilet plunger, and I must repeat, really loud. Reverberating between two buildings, drowning out the car noise. Score one for the human capacity to be really fracking disgusting.