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

too many projects

I’m doing a conlang because every sf writer should try it. The basis for the language is the sound that basketballs make as they pass through a hoop. Here’s my first definition. It’s sort of tonal, each ‘dih’ is at a lower tone than the previous, unless you’re being cute or sarcastic. The language is called Bih-bah, which literally means our words or our speech.

Oong-dih-dih-dih

The general idea was to make a language that has no sounds not found in English but manages to sound barbaric, foreign and deliberately ridiculous. Pulloong puchoongk powoongk is a perfectly acceptable phrase in Bih-bah (help a friend plan an event), although in English it sounds like industrial equipment being fired up.

 

Please check the number / words fail / the telecom song

Your call cannot be completed as dialled
please check the number and try again

Your call cannot be completed as dialled
please check the number and try again

You have reached a number to which long distance charges apply
You have reached a number to which long distance charges apply

What will it take before I can get through to you
what will it take for you to see
what will it take before I can get through to you
and what will it take from me
what will it take from me
Words fail
you walked away
you walked away from me

This is the sin that goes before all others
this is the sin I see in me
this is the pride that says that you will turn around
and look at me…. Turn around and look at me
Words fail
you walked away
you walked away from me

Your call cannot be completed as dialled
please check the number and try again

Your call cannot be completed as dialled
please check the number and try again

You have reached a number to which long distance charges apply
You have reached a number to which long distance charges apply

Not afraid to believe

This is a unitarian hymn. If you want the lyrics email a hundred dollars to allegra sloman at the house of gmail. This is not a sign I believe in god…. it’s just a hymn.

If you are wondering what’s happening, I think a lot of unitarian musicians are sockholes about copyright, so I’m asserting my right to be pissy about that by demanding money the way they do.

walkies with OTTERS

Two decades I’ve been going to Deer Lake Park and this was the first time I’ve ever seen otters. I’ve seen their slides a million times, but not them. They looked me right in the face. I thought my soul had been yoinked up to heaven, I was so happy. And do you know where they were? WHERE THEY COULD BE SEEN WHEN WE GOT OUT OF THE CAR.

Now that’s Mother Nature excelling at yanking my chain.

Jeff got to see one too.

 

It’s Monday so….

yuppers time for a maudlin poem

The House by the Side of the Road

by Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911)

There are hermit
souls that live withdrawn
In the peace of their self-content;
There are souls, like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
Where highways never ran;-
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

Let me live in a house
by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner’s seat,
Or hurl the cynic’s ban;-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from my house
by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears-
Both parts of an infinite plan;-
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened
meadows ahead
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice,
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my
house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by-
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish- so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner’s seat
Or hurl the cynic’s ban?-
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

Catnip on my shoes

This song was part of a three song day I had in Toronto long about 1983. The splendour of the true was another one and I can’t remember the third although it might have been the con committee waltz which I don’t remember anything about now.

Think I’ll rub some catnip on my shoes and go strolling through my neighbourhood
my neighbourhood
it does me good to see those furry felines fling their faces at my feet
I’m a potentate and it feels so sweet
SPCA’s suspicious
it looks like cru -el -ty
but the cats aren’t yowling for my blood or for a government inquiry
whenever I rub catnip on my shoes and go strolling through my neighbourhood