Author: Allegra

Born when atmospheric carbon was 316 PPM. Settled on MST country since 1997. Parent, grandparent.

Lemming’s Twofer

Here’s the youtube Link

Step up folks you know you can’t go wrong
got a back catalogue about nine miles long
when he gets bored he’ll write another song
step up step up Lemming’s Twofer
A fascinating miscellany of
all the subjects that he really hates and loves
and I’ll hang with him when push comes to shove
comes to his opinion (squee) I’ll be his minion
Step up folks and do not be perplexed
if you can’t tell which instrument he’s playing next
Put down that phone he hates it when you test
Step up Step up Lemming’s Twofer
Step up folks and get your Bile on Wry
while the Magat’s and smokers get it in the eye
If he was wine, he would be very dry
Step up step up Lemming’s Twofer
Idiosyncratic entertainment
delivered in eyepopping Hawaiian raiment
devoid of refinement, or of containment
Step up step up
Lemming’s Twofer
Brain abraded with a loofah
Filker, parodist and spoofer
step up step up Lemming’s Twofer NOW

got some errands run

Many thanks to Jeff for being able to deliver biscotti and pick up Burritos yesterday. There was also a bong.

edit:

Jeff mentioned to me I might like to tell the story of how we ended up with a new bong.

Wellllll, it was like this. Around 5 in the ‘day before yesterday’ morning I’m thinking this bong is disgusting, so I cleaned it out in the downstairs sink. I cheated though; all I did was give it a sloosh and change the water and ungunk the bowl, but I didn’t do the deep clean, which involves rock salt and 99% alcohol. I go back upstairs after I practice for a while.

Jeff comes downstairs approximately two hours later. Jeff was watching a wombat come out of its cave on TV and Buster woke up in his lap, saw the eyes of the wombat (which were about the size of a cave bear’s) and HE BOOKED IT LIKE THE NINE WERE AFTER HIM. Nearly rendered Jeff scrotally challenged, but managed not to injure Jeff. However, the bong did not survive. It’s tempered glass, it broke in big pieces, it wasn’t hard to police up.

As you may know, bong water is the most disgusting crap on the planet and if you spill it the stench is lingering and disgusting, especially on an heirloom rug (Granny’s living room)…. but it wasn’t bong water, because I just changed it, so it was water. We put down towels, scattered desiccant packs, and thanked our lucky stars, and went out and got another one. I put felt pucks on the bottom of it so it doesn’t hurt the coffee table.

Honestly, I feel like the champeen of the world…. my luck is never this good.

Pig in a Parlour – happy st paddys

Me mother and father were Irish x 3
and I was Irish too!
We kept a pig in the parlour x 3
and it was Irish too!

This poem was from a book about Canadian schoolyard rhymes and other miscellanea; I set it to music  years ago and recorded it just in time for today.

Prince Philip isn’t dead

I announced his death on my blog but it was just wishful thinking.

He’s probably got many minutes of rich life left in him.

I very much enjoyed having home made mac and cheese for breakfast.

I need to spread the joy of biscotti this am.

700 words on UPSUN

I have a doc’s appointment for my prescription renewal tomorrow, and I have called the clinic to confirm my scan appointment. I won’t get a call back unless they’re confused about something.

Three of Swords

My heart’s been broken through the years
I’ve mended it with my own tears
and tears can be a kind of glue
when they’re raining down the simple truth
I own me and I do not own you
I own only me and I don’t own you
Candles bless my tired eyes
and as I watch the bubbles rise
in every perfect mirror see
my struggle looking back at me
the heart that I am breaking is my own
the heart that I am breaking is my own
Close the door to be alone
can I see you and be still as stone
your bright eyes and your brighter mind
hold sentiments no more than kind
the heart that I am breaking is my own
Doing well and doing good
are hard enough it’s understood
that when aren’t the type to lie
you have to find a place to hide
no place of refuge can be right
if I can’t be in your arms tonight
The heart that I am breaking is my own

that’s Gord Breckenridge on piano

various

I have figured out how the rest of this chapter is going to go, but I’m taking a break. Poor Slider, holding the balance in their hands!

Right foot arch hurts so much that standing, walking, are terrible. I wore non arch support shoes for one day of running around and look what it got me, I’m gimped up fierce mama.

Biscotti is in the oven for the second bake; first bake items are sitting around looming like in the kitchen. First batch will be off to the Lunders hopefully today.

Kaossilator notes: S.60 300 bpm ga10  RG1 c´   Describe triangles in the upper half of the playing board very deliberately. Result is called ” Approaching the Derelict Slowly from An Abundance of Caution “

Digital Art

Allison Durno made this LOVE THE COLOURS – orange, dark purple, pink….

Digital Art by Allison Durno of a cat looking through a window at the CN tower

Thinking of my friend Dave D as I post this.

took the day off yesterday from writing. I’ve written maybe a hundred words this morning and I’m trying to find the narrative ladder to make it happen and I think I have.

FINALLY something live Gelis and Niccolo

It’s true that I posted a different version of this song already but a) this is the best song I’ve written in years b) this is the WHOLE thing AS IT IS MEANT TO BE PLAYED. It isn’t perfect but it’s the whole thing.

Anthony raved about the harmonics. He has miked an awful lot of live guitar in his life but he’s never heard someone get sounds like this out of an acoustic guitar, with no effects or processing. I have the ability to really startle the professionals with my capers and antics … musically.

This song is also called between skin and flesh

Did you go straight to a shrine
When you got off the boat
And did you say my name
Did you pray for something special
Maybe self-restraint
God’s own grace to hide your shame

Chorus
I am not the kind of person
that these things happen to
and these things happen
because of you

You wrote down my name on parchment
Then set it ablaze
I know when you did it and it
Stayed in me for days

I am not the kind of person
that these things happen to
and these things happen
because of you

To the world that may be watching
It appears that we’re at war
But it is a game we’re playing
Though our son might ask what for

I am not the kind of person
that these things happen to
and these things happen
because of you

Did you go straight to a shrine
When you got off the boat
and did you say
my name

sharp eyed and long term readers of this blog will note that I have updated the lyrics since the last time I posted this.

creeping up to graphomania again

first 2500 word day in quite a while over the last 24 IT’S THE SUNSHINE

Paul and I walked at the Quay yesterday. I watched a toddler dance for 20 minutes to banjo music and we walked the entire west side from the Colonizing Tin Bastard to the place where a crow gave a lecture to a bunch of starlings. Never seen anything quite like it, colloquy lasted a while. Also got circle buzzed by a hummingbird, never had that happen before; Paul enjoyed it too.

today I decided to rehearse as if I was giving a mini concert, and back to back I did my best ever versions of the Gelis and Nicholas song and then the best ever version of The Friend Who Gave Me This Ukelele and then I did maybe my third best ever version of Alexios. Then I blew very loud into a kazoo while realizing that the song I was blowing to bits was one that wasn’t actually on my list yet.

Also I can’t find the lyrics for that song. I’m going to try to find it in my blog but it might have been too personal, so I’m considering the lyrics lost for now. October 13 2015. I can remember writing it very clearly, knowing where I was, but I think I wrote it on guitar and when I played it just now it was on octave mandolin and I couldn’t remember any of the lyrics so I just blew it into a kazoo which probably bugged the living shit out of Jeff if he heard any of it. It really helped me EXPRESS MY FEELINGS though.

Jeff went out for Ratlands this morning, and it was the best coffee I’ve ever had from McDonalds. My blood is SINGING WITH BEANS.