Category: Music

this is just a test (bones of a new song)

This is just a test!

No, of course not.

You don’t have to.

You don’t need to say it.

Not if you don’t feel it.

You embody it, that’s all.

The way you hold me

kiss me

pass me pepper

bring me coffee

(five long beats) disagreeeeee with me

throw popcorn at me

throw your arm around me

This is just a test!

 

(Think that clunky 80’s 86 bpm dance beat)

 

Just a test

In all the fuss and fury

Just a test

of modern life it comes

Just a test

no speed but hurry

Just a test

no percussion but taiko drums

 

when performing romance

Just a test

a pirouette or two

Just a test

you line out a paraph          (note, you can pronounce it either way, I prefer   

                                                           second syllable emphasis)

on your paragraph

mess it up

with a pedestrian ‘I love you’

Now maybe once in fifteen

Just a test

years I get those magick words

Just a test

Mostly unforeseen

Just a test

it comes out like a blurt

Just a test

I get to wondering

Just a test

Is it really real

but I’m a materialist baby

I’m all about the way you make me feel

extremely horn and reed-intense instrumental, including a bass line that makes you want square up conga style and wend your way through the neighbourhood

This is just a test!

No, of course not.

You don’t have to.

You don’t need to say it.

Not if you don’t feel it.

You embody it, that’s all.

The way you hold me

kiss me

pass me pepper

bring me coffee

(five long beats) disagreeeeee with me

throw popcorn at me

throw your arm around me

This is just a test!

 

 

 

obviously I updated it. The instrumental part is coming along fine, it will all be kazoos very pleased with it so far. Only 13 more songs to write for the end of the month ha ha

 

abba antiqua (Dancing Queen on an elderly organ)

Check it out!

 

the absolutely fabulous Elise Matthiesen says

 

Sometimes anger will give you enough traction to make it through whatever lousy situation you’re in, whether that situation involves self-harm or other people telling you that you don’t exist. Anger often has some collateral damage, though. It’s usually not a precision tool.

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.

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

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.

 

plaintive plea to uncaring universe

I really wish my friends didn’t suffer so from depression and anxiety. I am not exactly free of the guilty pleasures of wallowing and denial but when I see my friends REALLY suffering I have a tendency to bounce around and try to be super entertaining, which must be no end of annoying when you just want peace and quiet.

Anyway, I got a smile out of my friend with this. caution swearing

A quick roundup plus my song for July 1 2017

Called or spoke to a remarkable percentage of the people I love today and am feeling better for it. Got news out of Katie that, independent of the blast of sunlight us poor benighted and bedrenched Vancouverites received at sunset, was THE BEST. Last night was INSANELY UGLY BUSY and there’s a definite uptick of serious illness right now which I believe corresponds to having a thunderstorm during allergy season. Yeah, it’s not good.
There was a thunderstorm the other day. I’m used to thunderstorms in Vancouver – they consist of one crack of thunder, either during February (weird, hug) or late summer, not now.
Toronto trip is on.
I am feelin’ the love.

Oh yes I’m a member of the working poor
and I’ve walked the windy corridor at Yonge and Bloor
There’s always someone wealthier with more to say
And I’m just trying to get through another day

Oh yes I’m a member of the working class
and I think about Vancouver before Jack got gas
Before they took the timber out of Stanley Park
and it was still safe to be native after dark

Go ahead and mock me as a working slob
a bus ride away from a demeaning job
who gets to see exactly how the poor folks do
But I don’t expect understanding, not from you

On facebook and twitter I have found a voice
You’re the one who thinks that I should have no choice
Who wants me to be marginal who wants me to stay poor
calls me race traitor, calls me ugly whore

See my dayglo banner that says “eat the rich”
You’ll run me down cause I’m a social justice bitch
But thank you for clarifying where I stand
Every inch of Canada is someone else’s land
It’s all bound together, it will not go away
Not feeling like celebrating, not today

all the things

Thoughts are flapping round my brain
like plastic bats on a cable
think they all got on the wrong train
when they try to get off, they’re unable

Fuzzy head
blurry eyes
maybe I should
moisturize
maybe I should
get out of bed
But I think I’m going to think about
all the things that make me mad instead

Threw me on the ground and left
Then with fanfare announced you’re back
You’re the one with style and depth
I’m just standing here taking up slack

Fuzzy head
blurry eyes
maybe I should
moisturize
maybe I should
get out of bed
But I think I’m going to think about
all the things that make me sad instead
All the things
All the things, yeah

Everything that’s wrong stays wrong
Although in your reality things turn out well
I should hum a happy song
With you fuckers turning up the heat in hell
(bankers, bastards, assholes all work if you want to sub that word)

Fuzzy head
blurry eyes
maybe I should
moisturize
maybe I should
get out of bed
But I think I’m going to think about
all the things that make me bad instead

I didn’t want to take your call
I didn’t want the baby talk
I didn’t want a home cooked meal
I didn’t want to take a walk
You knew I was impossible
And somehow you can take it
I’ve got a future after all
and you are here to help me make it

Slippered feet
Blinking eyes
Why do I even
Act surprised
You propped me up
You fed my fead
And now I’m going to think about
all the things that make me glad instead
all the things
all the things.

As promised (it’s a 50’s musical patter song) 5 of 50

 

I’m retired

Go around me

I’m retired

I don’t care (spoken like Tommy Lee Jones in The Fugitive)

You seem so troubled

By my slowness

In your anxiety to get from here to there

 

You won’t take my advice

but driving slow is nice

I get to see the swans and geese and deer

Always there are more o’ ya

In the City of Victoria

What prompted you to move from there to here?

Oh, you moved cause you hate snow?

And I hear you fine although

Somebody should have warned you that the pace of life is slow

I’m retired, go around me

Get off my bumper, please don’t pound me

Of all the drivers, yes, you found me!

I’m retired, go around me.

 

Our family understands

That we are now the grands

Who taxi the grandchildren when they’re here

spoken overtop (and the great grandchildren…)

And driving slow is great

And we are never late

Your hurry's no concern of mine I fear.

We stop for farm fresh eggs

so kids can stretch their legs

And gramma wants to buy more crap to put in garden sheds

I’m retired, go around me

Get off my bumper, please don’t pound me

Of all the drivers, yes, you found me!

I’m retired, go around me.

 

 

Blerg

I am reading Patton Oswalt’s Silver Screen Fiend and IT’S OUTSTANDING.  Borrow it or buy it and read it.  Won’t say more, don’t have to.

And I have Caitlin Moran and the Encyclopedia of Goddesses and Heroines to look forward to after this.

I can feel the well of my writing soul going dry, and there’s nothing to do but fill the cup at someone else’s spring.

Or have some more Great Blue Heron coffee. Yeah.

I have a couple of potential songs in the queue and since I’m ahead of schedule I’ll pause.  I practiced a good long time yesterday, it was very pleasant.

Paul and Keith are off to the Island this weekend.  Yay for family visits!

Today is Keith’s nth birthday, and glad I am I gave birth to him n years ago, about three hours from now.  I am more glad that we live in the same town/time zone, because he continues to be a good soul who takes no shit from me, and that is a good thing.

Back to Mr. Oswalt, who in his book is lodged firmly in the midnineties catching up on classic cinema.