Category: Filk

VACATION ALERT

My brain has gone birdsnesting already.

Work is interesting.  I backspaced over most of an email this morning that while righteous was, erm, inflammable, sent it, and received the benison of the account manager, who promptly asked me why I wasn’t running things. My response was that I am hysterical and of short attention span, but I thanked him for his kind words.

Saturday I clean, Sunday I church, Monday I take instruments to be set up, Tuesday I have to briefly stop in at work to get my new hall pass, Wed-Thurs I hope to visit me mOm and pOp, and Friday I fly to Toronto.  Monday I fly back.  In the middle I hang with Chipper and the Eastern contingent of filkfen (and I CAN HAZ SO MUCH NEW MATERIAL) and then Tuesday it’s back to work again.

Some restrictions apply, etc etc.

I can haz new.used guitar

His name is Smoky, and he’s an electric-acoustic cutaway with a built in tuner, made by Seagull.  I put desperately needed new strings on him, and he sounds lovely.  Got him for approximately half price, and there’s not a mark or fretwear on him.

Also, I solved an extremely irksome problem in Finale Songwriter this morning, so now I can continue working on writing tunes down.

The office move went well.  The only thing that got lost from my desk was a trash can and one of my stalwart coworkers bagged me one.  I thought I had a shitty deal in terms of location, but the proof of the seating plan is in the actual results, and in this case I declare myself pleased, and I’m glad they put the cacklers close together, because G. and I both cackle when we laugh.  Also, who the hell’s idea was it to leave our fax number on the floor above?  GawDAMM.

Jerome dropped by yesterday, and how awesome to see him!  Shannon’s expecting again, and of course my family can never be too big.  He was describing how Braden plays with the harmonica I gave him, which of course nearly made my heart ‘splode with joy.

Time to go put some more laundry away.  I can hear Jeff blasting shit in Skyrim.  Herewith Dara Korra’ti’s lovely song, Fuck You Skyrim.

 

 

 

Clean cheap hydrogen?

All right!  http://www.geek.com/articles/geek-pick/self-sustaining-solar-reactor-creates-clean-hydrogen-fuel-2012044/

Life at Geekhaus continues along its merry way.  We’re halfway through the last season of SG1 and although there are those who believe that it just wasn’t the same program without Rick Anderson and Don Davis, I continue to enjoy it and am sad that it’s all going to end soon.  Which just means we have to view SGA and SGU again, plus any tv movies we can actually get copies of.

I move at work today.  By my count I sat at one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, oooo !  I JUST REALIZED.  This is lucky 13!  Thirteen desks since I started with the company.  Yeah, I thought it had averaged out to once a year.  We’re moving one floor down and to the other side, which means I lose the view of the Old School Cylons and the Lions out the front of the building, and now get to glower at the EA logo all day, when I feel like turning around and doing that, that is.

Anyway, I have to get my poop in a group and get out of here.  We have to pack and the day’s work must still be done, and I owe 1.5 hours for my running around yesterday re the passports.

Called mOm on the phone yestreen and Katie waltzed in while I was talking to her and she had a nice long chinwag.  Keith is heading to the Island this weekend so hopefully mOm will get her grandbaby fix.  Katie is inching closer to having her own apartment, but that isn’t because she isn’t looking, it’s because she’s extremely fussy about where she lives and if the front hallway smells like crap she just spins around and steps back out again.  Like Keith said when he was four, you don’t want to live where it smells like people are cooking their dinner in a garbage can.

Various and continuing shifts at work made me realize that I am a very small person in a very large enterprise.  I don’t have what it takes to run my own business (unless somebody wants to pay me to dream up tunes all the time) and so if I want to stay employed I have to execute according to plan.  I just wish I knew what the plan is.  I know this makes me sound stupid, and it’s not meant to be a crack at my bosses/supervisors, whom I respect greatly.  I am not convinced that anybody in particular knows what’s going on and can relate it to a larger plan, and past experience leads me to believe that we are (in the words of the inimitable Dorothy Dunnett) being ‘ground between magnates”.

Yes, ANOTHER SG1 song

Told from a somewhat different point of view.  Not canonical, but it sorta gets an important point across.

 

Get off my world!  Get off my world!
High water or hell come,
You are just not welcome
Get off my world, get off my world!
You do not belong here, you are just plain wrong here
and that is why I say get off my world!

We were simple farm folk with our fields and trees
when you poltroons swooped down from the sky
You stole from our temple, you did not say please
and it did not take long to reckon why
you waved around your weapons, killed two of our boys
You do this on a hundred worlds and treat them all like toys
But injuring the innocent no healthy man enjoys
it may take a hundred years
and cost a lake of tears
but we won’t rest til you Get off our world!

Get off my world!  Get off my world!
High water or hell come,
You are just not welcome
Get off my world, get off my world!
You do not belong here, you are just plain wrong here
and that is why I say get off my world!

You stole our singing birds for pets and blew holes in the ground
looking for some metal that you prize
You bewitched our children, now their souls are bound
And every word a parcel full of lies
All of your technology is costly and accursed
of all the demons in our tales you surely are the worst
In theft and pride and carelessness you are quite well versed
it may take a hundred years
and cost a lake of tears
but we won’t rest til you Get off our world!

Get off my world!  Get off my world!
High water or hell come,
You are just not welcome
Get off my world, get off my world!
You do not belong here, you are just plain wrong here
and that is why I say get off my world!

You brought medicine to heal and we watched cripples rise
It was gratitude that filled our hearts
But we know your motives now and know to damn your eyes
this is the dependency you start
Give us just enough to break the bonds of hearth and kin
How can you with poisoned lies expect our hearts to win
I will choose to fight your presence til my heart gives in
it may take a hundred years
and cost a lake of tears
but we won’t rest til you Get off our world!

Sam and Jack’s Tango (now updated for singability)

Sam’s tango

(all rights to characters to respective copyright holders)  Yes, more SG1 filk. It’s like a FUCKING DISEASE. If I hadn’t had Planets are People Too pop up in my brain (which actually started as Samantha Carter filk but as is often the case morphed into something else before I could grasp the concept) I’d be ALL SG1 FILK ALL THE TIME.

Also, still feel as cozy as a hug from singing and playing last night with Paul and Katie.  SCHMURRRRRR!

To biz, viz:

 

Note: Since tango is all about the sexxay time, herewith first stab at new tune.  I am particularly happy about the verse part, which has been wandering around my brain for about four years attempting to latch onto a ‘real song’.

Sam n Jack’s Tango.

 

There will be a time /it is coming soon /when they’re going to talk /talk about their feelings x 2
But… they have to save the world
and matters not the reason
it happens every season
Keep those feelings tightly curled
try hard not to heed them
and act like you don’t need them

Ba dum dum dum!

Chorus:

He makes her heart go boom boom boom
When he saunters into the briefing room
he makes her brain go snap snap snap
He has that effect on her every synapse
He makes her limbic system go wild
When he grins at her like a child
He could order her to do a flip
…O’Neill is her CO, she needs to get a grip

Everybody knows, pretending not to see
How Samantha glows, how O’Neill is smirking
Everybody knows, pretending not to see
How the feeling grows, yeah, they got it working
Oh, my God, just get a room
Did we forget to mention, the mounting sexual tension
In the face of certain doom
Just wrap it up quite neatly, and do it real discreetly.

She makes his heart go boom boom boom
When she strides into some dark Ancient tomb
She makes his brain go snap snap snap
That little blue tank top makes his will collapse
She makes his limbic system go wild
When she leans on him like a child
he could order her to do some flips
“We’ve got a job to do” is what crosses his lips.

There will be a time…. it is coming sooooon

 

WWJD????

When I’m facing situations
that I cannot handle
pain or grief or pain or moral qualm,
debility or scandal
Even though imaginary
he has got my back.
I refer my troubles to
the famous Colonel Jack

He’ll be quoting Homer
our well-armed bonny roamer
He’ll be quoting Homer
Cos that’s what Jack would do (D’oh!)

I’ll never have the Stargate step through Stargates
or a snake have snakes inside my head brain
My trials and tribulations
are exceedingly mundane
I can hear his voice inside me try a different tack
& he hopes that I’ll speed things up
impatient Colonel Jack

He’ll be making wisecracks
and making for the gunracks
He’ll be making wisecracks
Cos that’s what Jack would do (Crap!)

I’ll never plant C4 upon
a Goa’uld mothership
Or face down torture in Baal’s hands
with no more than a quip
Or wonder how Apophis can
once more give us the slip
But I can be like Jack in life
and fire when I shoot from the hip

He’ll shoot Replicators
and sing out “see ya later!”
He’ll shoot Replicators
Cos that’s what Jack would do (Sweet!)

I wouldn’t have the fortitude
to keep my hands off Carter
“Window of Opportunity”
should have been a two parter
When love and loyalty conflict
he taught me which to choose
Self respect is something that
you never want to lose

He will do the right thing
Even though it’s fright’ning
He will do the right thing
Cos that’s what Jack would do (Oy!)

Creeping down a hallway – SG1

I also CANNOT STOP THE SIGNAL

In ¾ time

The stated goal of SGC is acquiring alien tech
For which we risk our hearts and minds
Not just our pretty necks
Woolsey and Kinsey on the earth
The Gou’ald in space to vex
But I know it’s true, and I know you do too
What’s going to happen next

In polka time

Creeping down a hallway x2
Creeping down a hallway, a P90 in my arms
Did you bring enough grenades (yes sir)
Did you bring enough C4 (indeed)
Blowing shit up real good always helps esprit de corps
Creeping down a hallway x2
Creeping down a hallway, a P90 in my arms

 

My name is Daniel Jackson I dig artifacts from dirt
My heart is soft, my head is not, I help the lost and hurt
My love life isn’t much these days, it’s mostly with Death I flirt
My newfound badass’ry fights Goa’uld asshatt’ry and so I stay alert

When I’m
Creeping down a hallway x2
Creeping down a hallway, a P90 in my arms
Jack did you bring more grenades, Sam did you bring more C4?
Teal’c blow up that mothership and make Apophis roar!
Creeping down a hallway x2
Creeping down a hallway, a P90 in my arms.

My name is Sheppard, look at all the troubles that I’ve got
I woke the Wraith and now my days are quite intense and fraught
Rodney saves my bacon though, his timing sure hits the spot
But I know it’s true and I know you do too, how we advance the plot

Creeping down a hallway x2
Creeping down a hallway, a P90 in my arms
Did you bring enough grenades, did you bring enough C4?
Don’t turn off the gravity, the ceiling’s now the floor!
Creeping down a hallway x2
Creeping down a hallway, a P90 in my arms

If violence is not the answer why bring Greer along?
He needs his CO (badly) to determine right from wrong
All he wants is guns to shoot and heads to beat like a gong
He wants to turn Rush into colourful mush, but he is holding strong

Creeping down a hallway x2
Creeping down a hallway, a P90 in my arms
Are you really there at all? Are you really who you say?
Pencil necks and aliens keep getting in my way!
Creeping down a hallway x2
Creeping down a hallway, a P90 in my arms

Sundry and various

Cindy and I will sing on Friday, about time.  I have three count’em three new songs for her since the last time I laid eyes on her.

Work continues breathlessly along.  The pulled pork ciabatta sammich in the caf today was like a religious experience.  Had a lovely chat with the D-man about economics and the revenge of unintended consequences.

Haven’t heard from Katie in days.  But her shit’s still at my house, sigh.

Sunday dinner we’re having the Planet Bachelor folks over for Roast something and assorted veg, and then some kind of new cool board game afterwards.

Last couple of SG1 episodes entered the meh zone.  Oh well.  It still has ‘moments’.

Margot has gotten into the habit of bear hugging Eddie as he walks by.  The visual effect is peepantsingly hilarious.

 

Carrie’s in town

Paul (streaming nose and all) and I feasted her at the Mad Greek in Richmond last night.  She’s debating, having broken up with her most recent beau, whether she’s leaving Haida Gwai’i for the lower mainland or Victoria.  She’ll be closer than Haida Gwai’i either way so that’s okay with me.  Her kids are all doing awesome, which was lovely news; for a while there, much like me, she was getting heaping helpings of disappointment and fear of the future and all of that appears to have resolved.  I was a tad resentful that I didn’t get a ride home as I am now underslept and exhausted. (Paul stayed for a soak in the hot tub at the hotel, and while that was great for him I’d had WAY too much to drink to borrow his car.)  Fortunately the hotel was close by a Skytrain station.

I am working on a song for Apophis. And the rest of the system lords.  Hathor’s demise was particularly welcome.

Why won’t you die X3

You bastard

Apophis was a god of note or so the legends say, til SG1 got up his nose and elseways in his way, they tried to kill him a hundred times and each time he survived, you should have heard me shout for joy at the start of season 5.

 

Wrap it up

You know, I’m not going to talk much about Conflikt.  It was awesome, let’s leave it at that. I got demonstrations of everything that’s good and bad about my people, and you just gotta roll with it.  The Bad:  domestic breakup, but the good buried in that is that I sang “Invective” to all the appropriate people.  The Good: Lark the Cello took a spill after a concert.  And broke scrollwork.  How can that be good? After we made sure the owner was okay we took up an instant and enormous collection for her repair, and the cello got a filk to Mary Ellen Carter written for her.  There’s more than enough money to fix her and buy strings and upgrade the gigbag, and a competent luthier was instantly located, and beauty will continue to sing through her elegant wooden frame. My peeps, they are phenomenally amazing.

Last night just as I was leaving work Tom called and asked if I had dinner plans. Then he and Peggy invited me over for PRAWNS om nommm nommmm.  Then I had to scooch back to my place because Cindy came over for filking filking filking hot damm.  And I wasn’t expecting to have the Tom and Peggy show as well, but Tom shortly thereafter showed up with his guitar in his hand and Peggy showed up shortly after that after having dropped the Beanpie back at his folks’ place.  We wound it up around 10 – if John was still alive he just would have gone back to Cindy’s and kept singing.  But me, my pumpkin carriage was outside my bedroom door, honking.

Beanpie is so adorable!  he makes the same sounds Keith did at that age, but his voice is if anything even more musical.  He’s also mothering strong and very, very enthusiastic about food.  Like me!  Prawns, omg om nom.

And because I am  eployed, comfortably domiciled with my bro, and undeservedly lucky, we’re going out to brekky and making wit da flapjacks.

 

I sure wish I could stop writing songs in waltz time.

Be Mine, be mine, and be somebody else’s

I won’t force you into a pair

Be Mine, be mine, and be somebody else’s

You talent’s exceedingly rare

Be Mine, be mine, and be somebody else’s

I tell you for I truly care

Be Mine, be mine, and be somebody else’s

A skillset like yours should be shared

 

In this life there’s a bias for binary thoughtless

It starts with your left hand and right

Couple Up and De-Couple!

sells novels and newspapers

Tropes that are tragic and trite.

Whatever your naughty bits com-mu-ni-ca-tion

is key to affairs of the heart

so in delineating polyamory

that is the place that I start

 

Be Mine, be mine, and be somebody else’s

I won’t force you into a pair

Be Mine, be mine, and be somebody else’s

You talent’s exceedingly rare

Be Mine, be mine, and be somebody else’s

I tell you for I truly care

Be Mine, be mine, and be somebody else’s

A skillset like yours should be shared

 

You don’t make assumptions or fail to do checkins

When you’re angry you use your words

You try not to judge, but when something goes ‘squick’

you are quick to say that’s for the birds

You rarely make promises, but you will keep them

on that your friends may be assured

and you’re made out of action, instead of excuses

a life style choice I much prefer