An evening of serious drinking

An evening of serious drinking
that we have so long planned
an evening of serious drinking
at last at last is at hand
o fall on your knees to the porcelain god
as into the temple you crawl
and pray for the strength of your liver
as into a stupor you fall

An evening of serious drinking
that we have so long planned
an evening of serious drinking
at last at last is at hand
aaaaammmmeeennnnnnnn

Written for Jerome R (whom I brought to my mother in Victoria many moons ago to advise her that I stood in sibling relation to him) on the occasion of his 25th bday a solid 2 decades ago, and it was a fucking awesome party, thanks.

No mOm, you’re not expected to remember meeting every random stranger I’ve dragged in front of you.

Spare a thought for Jeff who occasionally gets this song as an earworm. Man, what a life.

Spoke to Mike

The letter to Barry is stamped, but I hope to accompany it with at least four more letters, I’m quite behind after my weeks of inertia. Mary, gAlex, mOm and pOp are all in the queue. I like looking at a spray of fifty stamps on the kitchen wall, and every time I send a letter, it erodes away, showing that pandemic or no, I can brighten someone’s day with a few scraps of paper. hope Barry likes his, it’s almost 1500 words long, lol.

Mike is not great, but who the hell is. He gets to prepare the orientation and training documents for the people that he’s going to be training to replace him, isn’t life nommy. Learned from him that there is a global shortage of breakers? weird.

I wrote 700 words in the UPSUN universe to day on one project and I’m still having fun with the conlang – poor Dave, bent his ear off with it the other day.

I am not doing all that great, but as long as I’m writing contentment is in arm’s reach.

Anybody talk

I see you coming
there’s no place I can go
You’ll sit beside me
mouth moving to and fro
I’d like to go somewhere
maybe go for a walk
’cause I’m not really in the mood to listen to anybody talk

I’ve heard of places you’re not allowed to speak
Think I’ll check into one, I sure could use it for a week
I’ve been so busy, I’ve had no time to take stock
And I’m not really in the mood to listen to anybody talk

Cancelled the party, maybe you think it’s rude
there’s no excuse for it, I’m just not in the mood
Did it really come as that much of a shock
that I’m not really in the mood to listen to myself talk
Not really in the mood to listen to anybody
Not really in the mood to listen to anybody
Not really in the mood to listen to anybody
Not really in the mood to listen to anybody
Talk

I was childless and living in Amedeo Garden Court in the back building when I wrote this. It was for a woman I should not have attempted to befriend. More would be rude; I certainly wish her well, wherever she is.

Beacon Birthday celebration song

To think that it all started with committee work
These decades past
Some now here assembled came and did not shirk
And they had a blast
We are trying to help the world
All the little boys and girls
And the ones who aren’t sure which they are
Growing their theology
Becoming all that they can be
Knowing in their lives they’ll wander far
And Beacon will be part of who they are

All the controversies now seem very small
When we look back
It’s a miracle that we are here at all
With all that flack
Boards and staff in panoply
Ministers and homilies
Days when the presenter failed to show
Visits to the partner church
Pledges paid or in the lurch
Always wondering if we would grow
As if our wishing somehow made it so.

But it is no joke
We fight oppression’s yoke
Whether in the soul or on the street
What you think is true
Is shown in what you do
And sharing truth is really why we meet

Here’s to Beacon’s 30th, now raise a glass
And toast us proudly
Maybe all our dreams have not yet come to pass
Still we sing loudly
We can set up anywhere
Little but somehow we share
Knowing that our giving shows our love
The future holds its mystery
As we toast our history
And the peace that we’re all dreaming of.

I release myself

I hereby release myself from having to do weekly anything posts (I will when I feel like it), and all I’m going to concentrate on, since I’m doing OK not great, is posting tunes… and I did that today so progress has been made. Also, I think I have within me a much more detailed guitar accompaniment for Sisyphus.  Also I fired off the entire chapter Best Roommate in the World with a teaser for The Three of Us   … being the next chapter … to mOm. I’ve been writing a lot.

Jeff is helping me with my taxes again, which is really great, I only waited two years this time.

There’s a lot of snow. Jeff has dealt with it so far. I will look at it in the morning to see if my shovelling skills are required.

hurry hurry love

If someone wants the lyrics I’ll write them out. I’m way fonder of this song than I should be, and the lyrics are quite deliberately obtuse and goofy and bighearted. I have never sung it since I recorded it, except to sing along with the recording and invent new harmonies; isn’t that funny? it’s as if once it’s recorded it’s in an emotional mausoleum.

The Cairn

 
Well once he was her lover but now
he’s just a pile of rocks
and she has to move them one at a time
to get to whatever she wants
and the nights she’s cried and called him cruel
his answer is always the same
if your life is not all that you would have wished
you’ve none but yourself to blame

The time that she’s spent on what he wants to do
she finds she’s resenting it still
and he has no duty to repay the debt
she did it of her own free will
and she won’t think of leaving though sometimes it seems
like the only real option she has
so she’ll stay where she’s known some small comfort and calm
and not run away from her past

This one’s for Paul of course. You cannot imagine how nervelessly angry I was when I wrote this.

And it lands different, after #metoo, don’t it.

And of course Paul’s a different person now. The shit I’m twitting him about here maybe happened, but it isn’t who he is anymore, and hasn’t been for years and years.

I love

Black and Indigenous scientists dragging their asses through an academia that hates them and then TURNING UP THE JOY on their work when they finally win through, and bringing as many of their people in as they can. They could be absolutely fixated on how horrifically they were treated but instead they mentor and teach and try to heal academia and damn do I love their joy. @ZoeSTodd has been very careful to talk about the NON JOYFUL bigoted crap she was put to, so it’s not like I’m unaware of how bad it gets when the academy thinks you don’t belong.

People who are professionally calm doing goofy funny things with animals.

People in boats who run into animals in distress and rescue them.

Wingsuit videos. I mean I hate them because I clench so, but what vim!!!

Jumping spiders. They are so cute and emotional I just love them to bits. I really love it when the redbacks hatch in April and we’re having little convos with them in the kitchen while they observe us.

Buster’s purr. He sighs and purrs at the same time and it’s just the most wonderful expansive sound of contentment. Makes me wish I could purr too.

Plug in heaters COLLIS TABERNOUSH it’s fucking cold here.

Deer Lake Park. So much happiness have I experienced there! Still putting together a list of songbirds with their songs to accompany us on our walk.

Writing letters to people. I think I’m going to stop handwriting them though – typing is easier, faster, more legible and I’ll get more words out to people.

My Brother printer. The ink is of course expensive but it just DOES ITS JOB.

Sudoku. It’s one way to stay sharp.

Sherlock. The game, and the character, but in this case I’m talking about the game, which I’ve been playing for a quarter of a century. A really good game keeps on being good, no matter how many times you play through.

Jeff. He cracks me up and eats what I cook and looks after the bills (I contribute, thanks to a wonderful roommate spreadsheet that takes all the sting out of calculating who owes what to whom) and takes out the trash, what more do you want in a brother who is also the roommate?

Corvids. The crow who comes alone came early today, it’s so cold, and cried for food out from the dogwood tree.

my children and parents obvs

my beautiful pals, far and near, seen recently or longed for: Tammy, Dave, Mike, Tom, Peggy, Shad and the rest of the filkers, Sue, Jim and Jan, Jan M and Soon, Catherine, and all the people I’ve sung and played with over the last twenty years, and Paul of course.

I posted some bih-bah but took it down.

 

 

 

Bela Lugosi is the King around here

Well my momma lived next door to Bela Lugosi
He kept trying to give her cigars
and I was too polite to say “I think you’re lyin'”
so I said, “Alan, I think you’ve been working too hard.”

NO she really did live next door to Bela!
Call her in Ft. Lauderdale and you will see
I thought, I gotta think of something to one-up this puppy
so I dug down deep in my memory
I said
I was seen
by our royal queen
In my crib when I was less than a year
And she leaned right in and she cooed so loud
my grandma and my auntie could hear
Then they misspelled my name
in a newspaper clipping
when I clap my hands, it appears!

and he said
that’s real nice
but it cuts no ice
cause BELA LUGOSI IS THE KING AROUND HERE

Bela Lugosi is the kind around here, Bela Lugosi
Bela Lugosi is the kind around here, Bela Lugosi

Well I split a cab with Sinead O’Connor
I could tell she’d kill for a smoke
I said, as soon as we get out and hit the sidewalk
we’ll go someplace quiet and crack some jokes
Wish ta hell I could remember what she said
it was a cutting remark and she cut me dead
I live in mortal fear that we’ll run out of beer
but BELA LUGOSI IS THE KING AROUND HERE

Bela Lugosi is the kind around here, Bela Lugosi
Bela Lugosi is the kind around here, Bela Lugosi

Well I want you all to know I had an alien’s baby
and everything came out fine, but the eyes
and when she smiles all her teeth are a little bit pointy
and she never seems to be the least bit surprised
I showed her Plan 9 From Outer Space
she said, that’s it, I give up on the whole human race
HAVE NO FEAR SOMEONE BROUGHT MORE BEER
and BELA LUGOSI IS THE KING AROUND HERE

Bela Lugosi is the kind around here, Bela Lugosi
Bela Lugosi is the kind around here, Bela Lugosi

Apparently this is Peter Alway’s favourite song of mine. Takes all kinds, my darlings.

Wish it was mine

Dance around a fire and the fire is you
I cast a shadow nine feet tall
I could fly up into the sky
Never feel the pull of gravity at all
Wish it was mine
I wish it was mine
O baby
Wish it was mine
I wish it was mine
O

Wish it was mine?
you crossed a line
You got some understandings that you’ll have to redefine
You cannot own me
you cannot buy me
do not go there
do not try me
I’ll defend every inch of skin I’ve got
Pack up your delusions and go

Such a violent answer
for such a peaceful man
but I was put upon this earth
to help you if I can
and only you may judge if the price is set too high
but I love a man who trusts himself and that is not a lie
Wish it was mine
I wish it was mine
O
Wish it was mine
I wish it was mine
O