Category: Filk

Way up in the Sky

The moon, oh, the moon is way up in the sky x 3
And I made plans to go there, in days long gone by x 2
The sun, oh the sun is way up in the sky x 3
And I don’t want to go there, or my ass might fry
and you don’t want to go there either, or you just might die
The ring, oh, the ring, it spins ’round Saturn’s tum x 3
But it’s ass-freezing cold out there, if you touch it, you’ll go numb X 2
The Void, oh, the Void, is almost everywhere x 3
But it is not here just this minute, so I do not care x 2

Ten years on

About this time ten years ago I was thinking about Gelis a lot, from the Niccolo series, about how the two of them tried to inhabit each other’s minds, and how it ended up in a huge betrayal. I had a three song day, and this was one of the songs (I should look it up, I’m probably wrong hey Jeff.) The magic that allows him to find her and her to trick him by moving her wedding band around is integral to the books; the song lyrics are pure fanfic, except for the last verse, newly added, which is a condensation of that part of the plot that pertains to their marriage.

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
We appear 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

 

2019 commitment to not being an ableist fleshwad

So I’m working through my Youtube videos and captioning them. Already done: my most popular effort, at 14.2K distinct views! How to Cut Up a Pineapple. Lemming’s Twofer, Neener Neener and Blasteez (my advertisement for laxative coughdrops which, as you can likely imagine, work as poorly as advertised).

I shall continue with the making my videos more accessible until they are all done.

House filk

attendees: Cindy, Peggy, Paul, Tom, Mike

Songs: Alexios (the Murder Hobo), Frobisher Bay, Lousy Co-pilot (original and SG Atlantis version), That God-forsaken Hellhole I call Home, Dandelions Dreaming, Blues for Dumuzi, The last page, Two Worlds, Those Magic Changes, two songs from the Skyrim soundtrack, The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, a filk song we found by accident in my Canadian women’s folk songs book called Susan COD, It takes a lot to laugh it takes a train to cry, Gentle Arms of Eden, Lady of Komarr, Some Other Planet, and there were more but you get the general idea.

monch food sing choons

It was absolutely loverly

In a grotesque act of cultural imperialism

I’m turning a west African harvest and birth celebration song into a choral arrangement about the Ambien Walrus. Brian Tate taught me Kakilambe and it’s a good thing I’m too smart to try to reproduce it in public.

BASS LINE

I’m a lolrus (1 bar)

TENOR LINE

Ambien Walrus in my head (2 bars)

ALTO LINE, SECOND SOPRANO LINE, FIRST SOPRANO LINE

Here I go to the internet, here I go spending cash that I don’t have (4 bars)

 

Ambien is a prescription sleep aid/anti anxiety drug which makes people do things like get up from a sound sleep and order ten thousand mixed beads in a bag from the internet. I do not consume Ambien.

 

 

At conflikt 12

Travel was excellent, border was a lark; on Friday we stopped in Greenwood and ate ‘za from Razzi’s – expensive but VERY FINE PIZZA with tremendously high quality ingredaments.

Checked in without difficulty, comfy room with a balcony, not too noisy (faces SEA so there is aircraft noise.)

Last night filked with Cindy (Lady of Komarr) and sang Murder Hobo:Odyssey so that was fun. (Paul was paying attention to people’s reactions and he said people laughed their asses off… you know how it is when you’re too busy singing and playing to pay much attention.)

Steak din with Lemming and Paul tonight, we had a good time until my credit card barfed. Since Paul’s did too I’m not too upset because it sounds like a system issue – we use the same bank – but as is often the case my emotional balloon was punctured and I don’t feel great about singing and playing and I now owe Lem 137 bucks, although he was a total sweetheart about it.

We talked about John a fair amount. It is good to have good memories about him.

Today it was announced officially, I will be the Toastmaster for Conflikt 13!!

This means staying at the hotel Friday through Sunday at mininum, doing a concert, being at the Guest Lunch and doing the instafilk, judging a song contest, contributing to the Interfilk Auction (of which I have previously been a beneficiary), songbook and lunch CD, host open filk for at least a couple of hours, doing a panel or workshop, emcee for performer concerts.

I’M THRILLED, I’M HONOURED, I’M GONNA WORK HARD AND DO MY BEST

and I intend to book off the following week to collapse into con crud and exhaustion, because I’m going to be 61 and I’m not completely altered in the head.

 

They have an electrified toastmaster badge NOM I love it so.

 

I have a year to plan outfits!.

 

Murder hobo

This is a descriptive term invented some time in the mid-oughts, for somebody who wanders around games killing people and stealing shit as a lifestyle choice

 

Alexios the murder hobo
ran around ancient Greece
He loved to deal out mostly dealt in violence (pron VOI LINCE)
And he dealt it out piece by piece
He’d skulk run around the market square
Inquiring if anybody needed as to anybody needing some murdering there
He’d take it on for a hefty price
And how he got it done wasn’t often the way he got things done (waaaaal) not very nice

chorus:
cause he’s a HOBO!
He’s a murderous
HOBO!
Out a-murdering…
HOBO!
He’s a murderous ….
but ya gotta love the way he loves to do his thing
Alexios the murder hobo
hailed from Thermopylae
Stabs folksbin’ people more or less at random
He really is quite one hell of a guy
He kills stabs by day, he stabskills by night
His armour gets the credit in a big-ass boss fight
He got a bird named Icarus
He always wears the cutest (sweetest) little truss and he’s a

HOBO!
He’s a murderous
HOBO!
Out a-murdering…
HOBO!
He’s a murderous ….
but ya gotta love the way he loves to do his thing

 

Alexios the murder hobo
has everything an Ancient Greek needs
a fabulously stellar reputation
for ugly and horrific deeds
He’ll poison…. all the boys in your crew
and come back (or creep back) in the dead of night and do for you too

CHORUS

Alexios the murder hobo
goes shopping twice or thrice a day
If I spent that much time boutiquing
My folks would have me put away
The drachmae go ka-ching
on all that shiny bling
and man, how it must sting
to pay for anything
when you’re a HOBO
Retail sucks when you’re a hobo
out a murdering
Hobo, he’s a murderous
but you got to love the way he loves etc. etc.

Alexios the murder hobo
Has ships that run on magical oars
I don’t know who they’ve got below decks
I bet that they’ve got friction sores
The sails go up, the sails come down
the rigging defies physics and then BANG they run aground
And he’s a hobo, a right piratical hobo
out a-murderin’
Hobo, it’s legitimate salvage
and you got to love the way he loves to do his thing

Chorus

Alexios the murder hobo
has one final tesk to complete
Climb up every statue on the game map
and teabag them with rhythm sweet
He’ll scramble up
He’ll scramble down
Take a screen cap in the middle
and scramble out of town
Cause he’s a hobo, a pirate thief murdering pervert hobo
out a murdering
Hobo, he’s a murdering hobo
but it’s a filk crowd and now it is time for you to do your thing

Don’t let them see.

I have met somebody who wears her heart on her sleeve. I’d like her to tuck it away, but I don’t get to make that call.

She got stuck at the airport. She is in the sf/horror fan community, knows about 30 people in common with me and since it’s her story to tell, how she got stuck there, I will stay quiet.  Katie let me borrow the car to unstick her, and now she’s either asleep or colouring mandalas. A few of the designs are straight up eyepopping.

Got Keith’s Christmas present to me set up – I regifted the Instant Pot from Mike to Katie; I’ll get it back at Litha.

It never ceases to amaze me how much better my life has been because of the people I’ve managed to get close to. Sometimes I think coupling up is an extended magical joke of some kind. Now I’m old and I want completely different things from partners; less excitement and more being there.

I talked to Katie last night and after I got home and started tidying up a bit I was standing at the sink and I just started crying because despite everything, all the stupid anger I’ve been holding onto, she gets me. And so does Keith and so does Paul. I’m glad they didn’t see me crying. They would have been upset on my behalf, and I’m feeling better than I have in ages.

Now I’m going to check if our houseguest is up and start singing like a chicken if she is because I can get away with that, and Jeff’s not ‘hear’ to plead for the sanctity of his eardrums. He’s supposed to be back today; hope the 5 to 10 cm of snow we’re getting (Erie PA got 6 inches of lake effect snow yestreen, how droll) doesn’t hurt his chances of getting back here safe from Victoria.

I salted all the walkways, I’ll salt the driveway before the predicted snow flies too hard. I put so much salt on the back deck that I can now hear it creaking as the compressed snow/ice starts to let go its grip.

twangy box aka Rowena

Oldfud version: Allegra’s not writing fiction so she’s playing music instead. It’s annoying, but ok.

 

I buy new instruments to encourage me to hear music differently and write songs.

It’s working.

The twangy box now has a number of tunes to go with it.

One is “Form a Line (a protest song)”

One is “Elder Funeral Song”

One is “Horseback Song” <—- newest as of last night

One is “At the Aerie” <—- oldest – started working on it as soon as I got Rowena

One is a new version of an old instrumental “Grieg”

One is “I’m too cheerful for my pants”

 

The damned thing is virtually impossible to tune and the frets are in the wrong places. I shall check with a luthier. But I don’t care. When it’s close to being in tune, it’s a remarkably plangent and docile instrument and it doesn’t hurt me to play it. Otto, unfortunately, is putting my shoulder out of kilter when I play, and guitars are approaching impossible.

 

Ringing in the New Year via snow shovel

Dug out  the front stairs, walkway and sidewalk, the back stairs, side walkway, garage walkway, and the snow blocking passage to the laneway.

New Years Writing Resolutions:

 

Publish 5 books (4 out of 5 are written) block out five more, e-publish my book of homilies, write two more of fiction and two of non-fiction. Finally assemble all my filk songs as of the end of 2016 into a big pdf file. Dig more deeply into Scrivener and see what else it can do to help my work flow. Learn more about e-publishing. Print at least a small run of physical books (probably locally) so I can put them in my mOm’s hands. Put everything for free on my website so people who are broke can read it. Develop a mailing list for book marketing purposes. Learn to spam LinkedIn since it’s all they’ve ever done for me. Figure out if it’s worth it to put any version of the ‘trilogy plus bookends’ on Amazon, given all the hassles I hear about. Start a Patreon account. Move 1500 units. Start submitting to publishers once I have some sales. And remember that 1000 words a day is 4 books a year!

I am completely and utterly sober. I have five minutes to pour myself a toast of something before I greet the new year with some Moar Wrdz.

Castiel filk – The Sheltering Tree

I recall the day of my creation
Breathed into being for my Father's plan
I have been so many people
But I have never been a man

Will you teach me, as you have from the beginning
How to be friends, how to be family
For when you put down roots in somebody
You will grow into a sheltering tree

And by that tree you honour all Creation
Though in the storm-tossed dark you may not see
The nest you hold within your arms
Within which dreams the bird
Whose wings will some day set you free.

My Father's gone away but all His lessons
are written in my sinews and my heart
I've risen and I've fallen
I've heard the darkness calling
And in the chaos I have played my part
Will you teach me, as you have from the beginning
How to be friends, how to be family
For when you put down roots in somebody
You will grow into a sheltering tree

And by that tree you honour all Creation
Though in the storm-tossed dark you may not see
The nest you hold within your arms
Within which dreams the bird
Whose wings will some day set you free.



	


	
	








	
	

		
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To the tune of Home on the Range.  Starting with Bucky Fuller’s quote from Heather S.:


Let architects sing


of aesthetics that bring

Rich clients in hordes to their knees;


Just give me a home, 

in a great circle dome

Where stresses and strains are at ease.




R. Buckminster Fuller






Within minutes…. the next response.




Edward G.




Dome, dome with no strain,

Where the vectors of force are in play …

Where seldom is found

Such a structure so round,

And where four pi r squared equals A !




























Then the ever remarkable Tim Griffin, minutes later, which I think is FUCKING BRILL.




Oh build me no pile in postmodernist style

For it’s ruder than Tudor by far

And the worst on the street is the house of concrete

I’ll not brood where the brutalists are!


No, I’ll hang up my reins where geometry reigns

Where the lightness and brightness prevail

Where I’ll not be ashamed that each panel’s the same;

Equilateral tri’s tell the tale!