Monthly Archives: September 2010
If we have never met outside of the computer, please comment here so I can send it to you by way of whichever email you have linked to the name whereby you comment.
If we have met outside of the computer, I’ll have to think about it.
My heart knows a lovely song
It whistles it all day long
If you know the melody
Please whistle it back to me
The way the bird in the beechwood tree
Calls to its mate so I’ll call to thee
Oh when will you answer me?
My lips are parched and my throat is numb
Does some inability make you dumb?
If you can cannot whistle, huuum!
Giacomo is my nom de plume
I whistle and hum, but I hum to whom
To whom do I hum, to whom?
Danny Kaye’s ditty in The Court Jester. Terribly funny movie. Full of cheese and good humor.
I just wanted to start off this post with that song because it fits the theme. But it doesn’t fit in the list I meant to make here which iiiiisss…
Songs I Wanna Sing When I’m in Love (Like That’s Ever Going To Happen! ((But I’m Just Prepared Like That))
The problem with love songs is that they’re all directed towards the object of the singer’s/writer’s affection. So if you have not a someone of whom to love, the whole point of singing a love song is moot. Not like that ever stopped anyone from singing a love song…
But these are songs I think would be especially fun to run around the house, the garage, the local supermarket singing as loud as I dare (which is pretty loud) because I’m annoyingly besotted. Some of these songs I don’t even like. I just want to be able to shout-sing them while shaking my head like a crazy person with a beau in mind. Bwahahaha. The world Fears the day I fall in love. With a capital F.
Your Love is My Drug -Kesha
Best part: The disgustingly catchy chorus. x.X
This has to be the most flattering song ever. Comparing a guy to an illegal substance. Unless she meant ibuprofen… no… she didn’t. She says ‘crackhead.’ I can’t help it! The stupid chorus is so catchy!
Best part: The historical reference and creative analogies to a military defeat put to a love song.
I housecleaned to this song a lot. (Not even at my own house.) Took that mop and danced the dirt right outta the floor. The mop tried to come home with me but I had to tell him it was only a passionate fling.
For Once in My Life -Michael Buble or Stevie Wonder
Best part: For once I can say ‘this is mine, you can’t take it!’
With 9 siblings, there’s a lot of stuff I have to share. And my best friend and I, in order to prevent terrible fights, share a few fictional husbands. So you can understand why the idea of having something I can say is mine and all mine is appealing to me. I like the build up of the Buble version because it builds and builds and builds and then you’re like “For ONCE! I can say THIS. IS. MINE! (*bom bom!*) YOU CAN’T TAKE IT!” and it feels awesome. Yet, the Stevie Wonder version is so much fun.
Keep On Loving You -REO Speedwagon
Best part: The accents that make it sound like, “And ah meant, ever wurd ah said! When ah said that aaaah love you, ah meant that ah love you fureeevur!” And the chorus. I really don’t care much about the rest of the song.
You Sexy Thing -Hot Chocolate
Best part: The whole thing is funktastic. “I believe in miracles! Where ya from? You sexy thing!“
People Will Say We’re in Love (& the Reprise) -Oklahoma
Best part: Hugh Jackman sang it once. It’s… well, it’s Hugh Jackman playing Curly! So weird. So mind blowing. Git yerself on over to YerTube and watch some clippie-doos. xP
OOOOOOOOOOOKKKKKKKLAAHOMA! is a favorite old classic of mine. This song cracks me up and puts warm silly putty in the cracks it makes with or without Wolverine singing lead. I want someone to sing it at.
Best part: If you sing it really high pitched and off-key, people will know you’re imitating the most romantic guy ever created and it will make you instantly lovable.
This song is actually better known as “Love me, Love me” by Jim Halpert; the song that he annoys Karen with, which is totally acceptable because she’s not Pam and we want her annoyed. But I had to be “honest” and put the “original” title and artist.
Accidentally in Love -Counting Crows
Best part: “...strawberry ice cream…“
It’s just so durned cheerful!
First Love -Kristy McNichol/Christopher Atkins
Best part: It’s the most ridiculous song ever written.
This is from The Pirate Movie. It’s incomprehensible. A parody on a satire. Think on that. Anywhoodle, what better expresses love than this:
??? Huh??? I mean, am I right!?! I’ll bet you’ve never seen so many fade-in effects in one scene before!! And horses! They have horses! After that song they kiss for about five minutes. Okay, not that long, but it FEELS that long!
So long, folks!
Letter Challenge Day Seventeen – Someone from my childhood
*shuffles feet awkwardly* It’s not awkward that I’m talking to you, but that… well, there are other people reading this. Are you okay with this? Am I okay with this? Too late now. I already put you in the header.
Hello, friend. You know all about my childhood. It was quite abnormal.
Normal people would think three brothers (and more that came) were enough to keep them company.
Normal people would be satisfied with girl friends who they could have sleep overs with.
Normal people didn’t get you at all.
You didn’t like normal people, and that was just fine with me. I needed you all to myself. I sort of shared you with Emily, but she couldn’t handle the boys teasing and she didn’t play with us that much. You were the best. Together we climbed trees and played house. You defended me against my brothers being mean and teased me when I did something dumb. If I cried, you pat my shoulder. If I got mad you always listened. For years you were my truest friend and champion.
Too bad I made you up.
One afternoon, Mum had sent me to the garage to switch the loads of laundry. The clothes were heavy from being wet and I thought lifting them into the dryer would be so much easier if I could pretend someone was doing it for me. Emily tried, but she was always less strong than I was so we got nowhere. Then out of the blue you were standing behind us with a young-Elijah-Wood-smirk (not that you looked like E.W. because you didn’t) asking, “Could I do it?” And you did. It was so easy when you helped. I stood up straight after the dryer was set and said, “Thanks, Jack!” That’s how you were borned.
I took you with me everywhere. There were days I didn’t need you at all and days when I needed you quite a lot. Whenever I wanted someone to talk to, there you were. You grew up with me in a way. My muse tried to replace you, but you refused to be replaced. I had dreams about you and I wrote them down.
Hey Jack, remember this?
[Taken from Word Document; Once I Dreamt: A Collection of Dreams I Had and Wrote Down. Dated 2006]
Jack beckoned me to the middle of the room.
“Look at that,” he beamed.
I saw a full length mirror with no stand, leaning up against a stack of boxes and a scratched table. Its frame rounded slightly at the top, and the edges were carved with beautiful scrolls. Unlike the rest of the odds and ends filling the room, it looked untouched by time and still held a remarkable sheen.
“Wow,” I gawked. “That’s really something.”
“Wait until you see what it does.”
Jack stepped forward and didn’t stop walking, even when he was less than an inch away from the mirror. Instead of receiving a bump to the head and a red face from his efforts, he slipped right through the glassy screen and disappeared from view.
I scrunched up my face and blinked, “Is this another Phantom dream?”
“Beth, get over here.”
I cautiously pushed my face forward instead of my hand. What looked like glass felt instead like water. Water that made me feel neither wet, nor cold. My hair was gently tugged away from my face as I went a little further and stepped into an open field of wheat colored grass. Strangely, the brownish stuff didn’t scratch or irritate my skin like dried grass normally does, and the entire area was free of burs and thistles.
The only thing in the field, besides a hidden creek that we could hear, but not see, was a great oak tree that shadowed a portion of the land.
The field dream! Of course you remember that. Just like you remember the time I took you on vacation and you said the rocks from the cliff side were definitely going to crash onto our car and kill everyone. I don’t know why I needed you to scare me half to death when I had brothers to do it, but I did. I haven’t really talked to you for five years. You don’t mind because you always understand. If ever I’m locked in a dark trunk or stranded on an island, I’ll probably talk to you a lot so I don’t forget English. I’ve been thinking of writing a children’s story featuring you, but that’s going in the Writing Folder of Doom until other things are completed.
Here’s us when we were little.
To whom it may concern: I am not abusing a G.I. Joe in that picture. He is in fact missing an arm and I’m saving him from abandonment. I did that a lot. I took broken army men and had a hospital drawer so the boys didn’t kill them dead. Even before I saw Toy Story 2.
Okay, that sounds like a book title. But what kind of book? You guys decide. No, really. If Fear and Love Within was the title of a book, what would it be about? I want a little summary of your ideas in the comment section. No, I didn’t plan on that, it just happened.
Then I had to go and make cover art for it.
I’ve been exceptionally happy with characters lately. I don’t know if I’ve lowered my expectations so much over the past few months that now everything is shockingly good in my eyes or if I’m picking some great stuff to read and watch at random, but I’m falling in love with characters left and right!
I’m sure you all know the feeling of joy that comes with reading a great book. I’m sure you know the feeling of loss when you close it up and realize it’ll never be a brand new story again. It’s like the characters are finished with you for now and you have to wave goodbye from your post on the shores of reality. And although I feel all those things after being utterly astounded by the niceness of the books I read, I get a serious case of depression too. It’s a writer thing.
Yesterday I read the book Brightly Woven.
I loved it. I didn’t think I would until somewhere between the beginning and the middle I reached a point where the characters–one in particular–had me absorbed in their lives and I felt deep concern for the outcome of their adventuring. When it was over and done I closed the book and was very upset. I was upset because the book was really good and it wasn’t fair. Because obviously with books that good, no one’s ever going to want to read my stuff. Compared to the author of that lovely thing, I’m a horrible sub-par writer. Why do I bother?
I made it worse by looking at the author bio. She’s freakin’ young!! 21, I think! And that just makes it worse because she’s an intelligent young person who has a fantastic fantasy book published that was written in a year, and in three years of obsessive writing I don’t even have one completed story. True, I have about twelve uncompleted stories, but that’s hardly useful for anything except my illusions of grandeur for the future.
Look at all those italics in the previous paragraph. I use italics when I’m upset. Handel, your Water Music is not setting the right mood here!! TIME TO PAUSE YOU AND FIND A WRITER’S INSPIRATION SONG!!
There. It never fails to give me shivers: And then Braxton got on his knees, crying sell this too me, please!
Every writer’s dream. *sigh* I don’t remember the annoying woman in any of the other versions of that song, and the Prof. looks creepily ancient, but I did like that Jo best. By the way, Jo’s last line in that goes: I’ll astonish the world. Just fyi.
I really want to finish some more library books before I amass late fees but I’m not sure I’m recovered enough to read something with potential. Too soon for that. I suppose I could write something…
Sometime I’ll share a few story excerpts by posting them here. “If you like of me.” What say you two faithful commenters?