The Maid of Tarth Lyrics rev 1.

Oh the Maid of Tarth she went a riding x 2
For her honor and king, for the minstrels to sing
Branded traitor and fled into hiding

Swearing fealty to Lady Catelyn x 2
Put her sword at her feet, promised vengeance so sweet
Little reckoning what she’d be battling.

Lady Catelyn was missing her daughters x 2
To trade Lannister’s life, on the edge of a knife
Never minding their lies and their slaughters

“Take the Kingslayer back to King’s Landing X2
With your guile and your might, staying well out of sight
It’s his miserable life you’re defending.”

He fought but he still could not best her x 2
He’d have drowned like a rat were it not for the trap
Brave Companions had now set to test her

The Companions took Lannister’s sword hand x 2
Put the hand on a string, between them to swing
As in fetters they rode through the wasteland.

Said the Maid, “My lord, live for your vengeance X2
Serve the future instead, you’re no use to us dead
And so plan your revenge with all patience.”

Said the Kingslayer “you are no beautyX2
But your heart knows the right, and you know how to fight
with all justice and fierceness and duty”

Knowing this he defended her virtue X2
Spoke of jewels and wealth, kept her whole and in health
as the Kingslayer worked for her rescue

In King’s Landing he gave her Oathkeeper x2
“Save Starks with Stark steel! it is fitting, I feel;
As their captors sowed death, be the reaper!”

So the Maid rode away from King’s Landing x2
and of her no word comes, not with ravens or drums
But she lives still to my understanding.

A few remarks about migraines

I didn’t have my first migraine until I was expecting Keith; normally migraines start earlier than that.  In that, however, I have been very very consistent; the neurologist says I get atypical migraines.  Like a bucket of memes, I just never know what I’m gonna get!

When I get a flash, or a weird sensation, or a heavy lowering feeling, I never know what to think.  Is it “Ermagerd, I’m having a small stroke?” (link removed for safety)  Is it, “Bloody weather!”.  Is it, “Oh great, now I can’t trust my emotions, since a migraine made me think I needed to end it all when I er, actually had no basis for such a belief!!?”  (Actually, on sober second consideration, when CAN one trust one’s emotions? Apart from the Gift of Fear?)

Then there’s the bizarre range of physical sensations, previously catalogued, and visual disturbances (which in the last five years have occasionally been mesmerizingly beautiful, like the time my entire visual field briefly filled (transparently, I hasten to add, so if I had been driving I still would have been able to see) with coruscating rainbow fishscales about two inches wide at arms length.  SO PRETTY HOW I GET SOME.  EAT UM!

About five years ago my relationship with migraines changed.  I realized that since migraines are brain chemistry foulups, pure and simple, I had the power to change my brain chemistry.  If I think happy thoughts, I can make scintillating scotomas go away.  At first I did not want to believe that I could do that, but I have enough evidence to satisfy myself that, yup, I can do that.  If I sit, breathe, think about the days I gave birth to my children, and saw Hole at Thunderbird Stadium, and went to Hot Springs Cove, and watched mOm and pOp put up the geodesic greenhouse in the back yard in Ottawa, and saw mammatus clouds IRL, and saw a UFO shaped lenticular cloud, and flew to Vancouver in an Otter about 15 meters off the deck the whole way…. I can make that brain chemistry break up like morning fog.

So I dunno, Ms. Migraine, whether you think you’re going to land on me today, but I don’t want you around, so I gotta cheer up.

Lemming’s Twofer and News of the Sun

Why the hell is the surface of the sun hotter than the interior?  It’s a theory.

Step up folks you know you can’t go wrong
Got a back catalog about five miles long
if he gets bored he’ll write another song
step up step up Lemming’s twofer
A fas cinating miscellany of
all the subjects that he really hates and loves
And I’ll stand with him when push comes to shove
comes to his opinions I’ll be his minion

Step up folks and do not be perplexed
If you can’t guess which instrument he’s playing next
turn off the phone, he hates it when you text
step up step up Lemming’s twofer
Step up folks and get some bile on wry
While the gun-totin’ smokers get it in the eye
If he was wine, he would be very dry
step up step up Lemming’s twofer
Idio syncratic entertainment
delivered in eyepopping Hawaiian raiment
devoid of refinement or containment
Step up step up Lemming’s twofer
Brain abraded with a loofa
Step up step up Lemming’s twofer
Filker parodist and spoofer
Step up step up Lemming’s twofer now!

Lemming’s Twofer update

I have fired off an email to Lem asking him to review the lyrics, as although I don’t think he’ll take offence I suresheck don’t wan’t to give it.  Once I know he’s okay with them I’ll post them, because I worked hard on them (over seared scallops and tomato boccancini salad yesterday at Borgo Antico, which is so upscale it doesn’t have a website, and comped me San Pellegrino when they didn’t have near beer. )



Gotta love the Germans: circumcision declared child abuse/harm to child.

There’s a fine line between narcissism and self esteem.  What facebook is good for.

Don’t even get my brother started on dark matter/energy.

Now that mOm is watching SG1…..

Yes, wish I had some.

Fire up some way cool google search techniques.

There I was wondering what had happened to my ex

I remembered today would have been our 33rd anniversary if we had stayed married.

Alas, he is dead.  I am glad I went to see him a couple of years ago.  In his memory I vow to read more poetry.  He was a very interesting guy, and much of what I know about living in an inherently racist society I learned from him.

Love each other while you can.

So I decided to see some live theatre

Let’s just look at the whole thing here:

If that link no longer works here’s another:

So I had no idea I was going to a show about strippers.  It was HILARIOUS, moving, the costumes were droolariffic, and I got to sit next to the president of the Beacon Unitarian Church board, a fellow congregant, my former minister and her husband. Nudity! Swearing! References to bars in Toronto from the 80’s – when I lived there!   The former minister repeating some of the vilest of the lines in a stage whisper to her deaf husband!

frack! I LOVE BEING A UNITARIAN!  The food and drinks were overpriced and meh, but it was a great show and I am grateful to Sue for the opportunity to go and grow.

Lemming’s Twofer and Maid of Tarth

Yesterday (still drenched in music from the housefilk) I wrote THREE SEPARATE melodies one right after the other, in the space of 17 minutes (I fired up the movie camera in the computer and just noodled so I have proof this happned).  I used to sit at my desk at work crying on the inside because all I wanted to do was sit in a corner with an instrument and work out a tune and a chorus and now I CAN WRITE ANYTIME I WANT.  It’s intoxicating.  I should be working on biscotti. And I will. but for NOW…

Anyway, Blind Lemming Chiffon is a Denver filker and musician of protean talent (the guy with the ukeleles) who inspired the following.

Lemming’s Twofer Midi

Lemming’s Twofer PDF

Yes, it almost sounds like the beginning of the chestnut “Dixie” but it goes to a much different place.  No lyrics, but I can totally hear Lem singing this (transposed to the correct key, natch) about the insanity of the current American election year cycle. Twofers, for those who don’t know filk, are a standard way of getting folks up on stage to practice stagecraft or just share; you sign up to sing two songs at the beginning of the con, and it’s a great way to see new talent and old.

Also, Maid of Tarth.  Lyrics when I’m done.  I’m six verses in and the son of a seacook’s nowhere near done, it’s going to be one of those darned EPIC filks with a hundred verses mit chorus and bridge.  This is just the verses, I haven’t notated the chorus and bridge yet.

Maid of Tarth Midi

The other two songs are going to be something contemporary and another GoT song, I just haven’t figured out the donkey to pin the tail on yet.

a little bit of ever’ting

It was a solstice party (1 pagan in attendance, check), a housefilk (whenever two or more of you are gathered together in the name of the typo, amen), a hootenanny (small children running around and massacring harmonicas and tambourines while Tapioca is cooked), a religious/cultural interpersonal therapy session as we sang the hums of our people (Falling Free, Frobisher Bay among others), an impromptu poly gathering (6 people in attendance openly poly, plus lurkers), a-a-a-and a shameless attempt on my part to get everybody to compliment me on my sheer good sense for buying Otto.  Who is a boy, Katie K confirmed it.  She also arrived with a housemate in tow and La Merveilleuse Tillie‘s fraking awesome rosemary infused vodka/vermouth libation, which despite the no drinking rule I tasted cause I had to.  And I ain’t sad to.  I’m glad to.  Still a taste left, if ScaryClown comes over tomorrow I’ll feed him some.  Stayed away from the beer, but Mike left 3 in the fridge, so at least I haz some to offer guests. Day before yesterday I made biscotti, and then shared them out liberally at the party, sending some home with the LET’S SING SONGS ABOUT DEATH (literally her first words when she unpacked the bass) Peggy  and the ever useful and opinionated Tom. Also dispensed biscotti to Mike, who sang The Weight (ah, the piercing harmonies!) and Tomorrow Wendy,  and to Rozo, who spectated with that sleepy and mischievous smile I’ve gotten so fond of.  The glorious and unabridgedly awesome Cindy added that special soupçon of harmonious madness without which no housefilk can be characterized as ‘good’.  Or is housefilk like sex and pizza?  ah, erm.  Anyway, we sang zombie songs (dead people), Frobisher Bay (freezing to death), Tomorrow Wendy (which has lots of death in it), Dead Flowers (roses on your grave), and really really kept the theme of somgs about death on track more or less by accident.  Paul sang Last Page and Cindy sang Runtime Error, Type Mismatch so Lady Miss B was there toooooo. Although regrettably not in person, possibly because I neglected to invite her?  Duh.

I cleaned my house and wrote a song yesterday, and people came over and we laughed and chatted and sang and played.  Success!  My brother has been feeling meh but not enough to crimp fun (he slept in the guest room, but Eddie the wonderkitty kept him company).

Due to overwhelming popular demand (two facebutt friends), I will be setting words to my new song, which is the third I’ve written in the Game of Thrones universe.  My Needle and I, and Funeral March of Lord Tywin (instrumental) were the first two.  This one is called The Maid of Tarth.  Oh Otto, you are demanding instrument, but I will rise to the challenge.  And now I realize that it’s 4 GoT songs, I forgot about Sam the Slayer.  When I get into a Universe I seriously fracking commit.

Now…. how do I keep my house clean enough so I actually throw housefilks more than twice a year? I mean apart from a chartreuse flamethrower and a tank of oxygen….