The Gift

Be worthy of the love you got
whether it turned out the way you wanted it to
... or not.

Sometimes love is the only gift
that someone can afford to give
... but it is priceless.

Anxomnia

Shadows fade and blend

along the edges of the room.

Normal people are sleeping

but I am not normal.

I do not trust sleep.

I cannot submit my senses

to the deathly void of darkness.

I dare not surrender

my mind to dreams.

For I do not trust sleep.

For sale, baby shoes, never worn.

The title of the entry is a 6-word story that is often called the worlds shortest novel.  It has been attributed to Hemingway, although most likely in error.

On my quest for simplicity, this is a good example to keep of how to say more with fewer words.  That suits me just fine because I'm not really a chatty person.

I'm also seeking a zen level of minimalism with the music I've been working on, though that can be difficult when there are so many sounds and ideas to play with.  Still, I think I can do something along those lines using an idea I've had bouncing around my head for the last couple of weeks.  This song would (hopefully) contain some deep emotion by making use of dramatic sweeps with an almost bird-chirpy-like vocal line, although I intend to put something in there that bubbles up from beneath.

In the meantime, I think I'll continue to work on refining my messages until I have that magic combination of short phrases that speak volumes.  That is my goal.

A poem I composed after looking at my shirt.

Anxious kitty
sends his coat exploding outward
like a celebration;
adorns my shirts and pillows
with clouds carrying asthma and itchy eyes,
then serenades the world with constant meowing
accompanied by the rhythm of my coughing.

There is no true love

There is no true love on this earth that is against my religion.  None.

The more love, the merrier.

Spread it around.

Yay for creativity, warmer weather, cuddly kitties, pancakes, and good hair days.

I'm feeling pretty nice, listened to some new QOTSA this morning and it's utterly rocking.  Bought a ticket to fly to Seattle for MMT 2013 and visit with my mom.  I like taking a special trip to take a mystery trip - it makes packing rather interesting.  Last time I planned an MMT I caught this:

 

I like houses in odd places.  I make up stories about the occupants in my mind.  I would do a complete photo series on oddly placed houses if I had the time to travel.  Desolation is romantic.

We've done some pretty fun trips on the MMTs.  I've only planned 2 so far, the one with the house (Long Beach, WA) and one to Catalina Island - I tried to keep the mystery up, but it was tricky since it took place in CA instead of WA.

I'm glad I'm going to Seattle in August - that way I won't freeze and get made fun of.

The beasts in my house.

Monk in his natural head space

Game of Box Thrones.  Jerry won.

Frick and Frack demand a larger pagoda!  Don't make them come out here!

UPDATE: Frick and Frack left me this past weekend to move to that big pond in the sky.  Farewell fishes, it was nice having you.

Inscription on a Goblet

If I had to come up with a brief description of my life, I think the following would work nicely:

"There’s death in the cup—sae beware!Nay, more—there is danger in touching;But wha can avoid the fell snare?The man and his wine’s sae bewitching!"
-- Robert Burns

Road Trip - a recap

I wrote this a while back under the title "Grandma Memories".  I thought I should put it back up - it's really one of the better stories I've come up with.  Enjoy!

-----------------------------------------------------

I’m in a bland car, riding with a bland woman who is listening to bland music, and I am thinking of grandma. The woman in the backseat isn’t bland at all, she is very aware, and she is the reason for my current train of thought. She looks nothing like my grandma but that doesn’t matter because she gave me the same look grandma used to give me when I came to visit, and that was enough. You are up to no good. I know this because I was up to no good when I was your age, and I can recognize the other outlaws. She’s right, of course. I am up to no good.

-----------------------------------------------------

At the rest stop, when the bland woman had asked me where I was headed it startled me because the old folks don’t pick up hitchhikers. “Eugene,” I had replied in a shocked voice. “I can get you to Salem, will that help?” she said. “Thank you,” I murmured in relief as I gathered my bag. Salem would be a big help.

Now, my visor is down because it is daytime and I am cursed with silver eyes that hate the sun. I glance briefly in the vanity mirror and catch her looking at me. “What are you going to Eugene for?” she queries in an ancient, gravelly voice.

“Mother!” says the bland woman. “That is impolite! It’s none of our business.”

“I’m going to visit my sister,” I respond weakly, because it is a half-lie, and I cannot lie to this woman any better then I could lie to grandma. She arches her eyebrows at me but says nothing. I flush because the lie is so obvious. She is letting me stew in it; I remember this trick. I struggle not to spill everything.

-----------------------------------------------------

I am going to see my sister, but she doesn’t know I am coming. She wouldn’t welcome me if she did know because the only reason I would visit her is to take her home, away from Adam, who feeds her addiction. I am plotting a kidnapping, masquerading as a rescue mission, and she would know this. She may be a junkie now, but she is a smart junkie.

The woman in the back begins humming along to the radio. It sounds like a song by the Carpenters. Grandma used to hum in the car to Captain and Tenille I think. She would have found this bunch very boring.
I am not boring though; I have a borrowed pistol in my bag, and that makes me a girl on the edge. My sister is smart, she can be reasoned with, but she is also helplessly ensnared in Adam’s addiction trap. I am horrified at myself for having a gun. I am terrified about bringing it because I know I’m going to use it if the need arises. I’m going to do anything I have to in order to get my sister back home, and this old outlaw woman can see it all over my face.

-----------------------------------------------------

We are at another rest stop, just north of Portland. Apparently it wasn’t fate that brought the old woman to me, just a weak bladder. Either way, I am grateful for the ride. I bend over to scratch a bite on my ankle, and when I stand back up she is there next to me. I feel my insides turn to jello. I know she is about to say something that will change my life, and I am afraid to hear it. She lets out an impatient sigh.

“Silly girl, you are carrying a wrecking ball in a bowling ball bag. You should set that puppy down before you break your back." She looks at me piercingly and continues. "Remember, once you've done it, you've really gone and done it.” She nods, satisfied. She has imparted her wisdom and is done. She moves away from me.

I stand there silent as she makes her way slowly back to the car. I feel tears starting to fill my awful, photophobic eyes. I can hardly breathe.

Two hours later

I look longingly at the northbound rest stop vending machines, and stare sadly at the two quarters in my wallet. It’s not enough. I feel slight regret about turning down the bland woman’s offer of five dollars for lunch, but I can’t see my way to taking money from old women on pensions.

I have stopped thinking of her as the bland woman and started thinking of her as the motherly woman. She was very concerned when I thanked her for the ride and told her I had decided not to go to Eugene after all. I wished her and her mother well and watched them drive away, the wise old woman smiling and waving at me from the back seat. She must like it back there where she can see everything in front of her I think warmly.

The gun is buried in a garbage bin at the southbound rest stop, across the freeway from me. As punishment for loaning it to a fool like me in the first place, the person I borrowed it from will now have to learn to live without it. My sister is smart, eventually she will get herself away from Adam. My becoming a felon is not going to help her learn to help herself. I have a life that needs living - I can’t afford to take these chances, even for her.

I am somebody too. A somebody who needs lunch and a ride home.

I just can't eat anymore chocolate.

My darling showed up on my doorstep this past Thursday with the biggest box of chocolates I have ever seen.  Ever.  I was touched, amused, moved, horrified, and deeply in love all at the same time.

I know what you did there.  You wanted to make sure there was enough for two.

So, this unexpected and incredibly romantic gesture caused me to consider the nature of our love for each other.  We enjoy surprising each other and making the occasional sweet gesture, but after this many years in our relationship our romance is not the traditional stuff that fairy tales are made of. 

When Jeff and I first began our courtship, I was frequently consumed with my infatuation to the point where I would lose sleep and my appetite.  His name showing up on my caller ID had the power to shatter any concentration I had at that moment, and hanging up the phone was like asking a drummer to play to a click (inside joke).  Now those breathless days of pounding hearts and sweeping each other off our feet are behind us, but we have created something as soft and comfortable as a favorite t-shirt and steady as the sun.

Romance has evolved into my running to the store for milk when he doesn't have any left for his coffee, and him filling up my gas tank after he drops his son off at school so I don't have to stop on my way in to work. 

It's getting turned on by flirting with each other in the morning before we have showered and brushed our hair or teeth.  Lust is random opportunities when we're not busy doing other things, even if we have to do a little extra work to get there.

Happiness is when we are doing things we enjoy together, like finding new music, watching movies or Youtube videos, watching hummingbirds chase each other, or going to the coffee shop for lattes.  Happiness is pretty economical these days, but not out of necessity.  We just like sharing simple, meaningful, and natural things.  That's who we are.

I like knowing what he is thinking when he randomly looks up at the sky and says "Betelgeuse."  I like picking up a conversation we started 4 days earlier without any preamble.  I like not having to explain my sudden urge to blurt out "Scarlett Johansson," because he already knows why.

I like that we are so familiar and in tune with each other that a raised eyebrow or wink is an entire conversation.

I like that I love him, and I love that I like him.  I love us.

Sunshine on a Cold Day

This photo always makes me happy and reminds me that it's time to get out to Joshua Tree.
 

Song Making

Recording seems to be done finally.  Something like 40+ tracks, and all that remains is the final mixing and mastering.  I'm featured many more times on this song that I expected - funny considering I started the darn thing. 

In any case, we're going to try and start promotion on it as a single within the next few days, and get it online for distribution as soon as we can.  If it's well received, that will be a pretty good carrot for the rest of the album.

Thursday, December 20th 2012

This is a story I wrote for the 100 Word Stories Weely Challenge that sadly did not get in on time, but I had fun writing it so I thought I would share it anyway.  The topic was "pudding".


"Let's run through the checklist, and then we'll lock up," Pete said to his wife.

"Water?"

"Check."

"Matches?"

"Check."

"Coffee?"

"Check."

"Pudding?"

"... uh..."

"You forgot the pudding????"

"I thought you were bringing it."

He thought a moment, then said, "forget it.  It ain't worth it now."  He paused a moment longer, then stormed out of the bunker, muttering angrily to himself.

Waiting until he left, Amelia closed the steel door and flipped the switch for the hydraulic seal.  She checked the oxygen levels, nodded, and reached behind the shelf for a chocolate pudding.  Humming to herself cheerfully, she began eating.

Feeling artistic today

I'm feeling good - less consumer and more creator.  The band has been working on a couple of tunes, one of which I wrote.  I tried my hand at vocal arrangements, and I'm not half bad.

Zak is mixing like a fiend, but it still could be weeks or even months before the song is public ready.  That's ok, it will be all the more exciting after a long buildup.

It's a mind blowing adventure that I never in my life pictured being part of.  Fun fun!

Speaking of art, here's something I did many years ago.  No Photoshop or digital manipulation; just me with a 35mm camera, a lucky shutter / zoom combo, and a touch of sepia to mellow out the contrast:

I wish today were every day.

I swear, Sundays are just the best.  I sleep in, laze about with my darling, eat something ambitious for breakfast, and eventually get into a shower.  And then the REAL Sunday begins.

Like today, beginning with some mindless meandering around the Internet, followed up by a session of lyric tweaking for a song we're working on to make it more singable.  Then I go read for a bit while he lays down some bass and guitar, and eventually I decide it's time to eat something lunch-like, so I head to the Taco Bell for a truckload of tacos.  Yeah, that's right - Taco Bell.

Now I'm back and waiting for my turn on vocals, and then later we meet up with some friends virtually and play music trivia.

Honestly, I can't think of a better day.

Random Thoughts of the Day

Weird Thought of the Day:

People are essentially the same physically - meaning that barring any injury or birth defect, we all have 2 arms, legs, hands, feet, lungs, kidneys, 1 heart, stomach, etc. etc..  Identical in nearly every way.  Well, there are 2 genders, but within each gender we have the same anatomy.  So why do we have different blood types?  I can give to A's and AB's but not O's... but I can take blood from an O... it's like a weird blood giving pyramid.  How did that happen?


Gruesome Thought of the Day:

Sometimes when I'm driving home from work with the radio cranked up really loud, I can't help but look at the way the other drivers are driving and think, "When that jagoff runs his stupid beemer into me and sends my car flying into and over the car next to me, is this song the last thing I'm going to hear as I lay there mangled and bloody and slipping into unconsciousness?"


Happy Thought of the Day:

Is there anything more fun than cruising down the freeway with your stereo cranked?

Avoiding the Mundane

So, now that I've decided I'm a blogger again, I'm running into that awful thing I like to call "Twitter Syndrome", where I have to fight to not write about every little thing that happens to me. 

All morning I've been quelling internal insanity like, "I'm eating salmon cream cheese!  Gotta blog it.", "Awww, kitty is cute!  Gotta blog it.", "WTF is my stupid neighbor yelling about now? Gotta blog it, gotta blogit, gottablogit.", etc., etc.,.

The truth is that this is a typical Monday and nothing much worth talking about, except for the progress that "my band" is making on one of our songs (which is awesome), and the fact that I dropped salmon cream cheese on my keyboard just now, and kitty promptly jumped up to eat it (which is exactly what I would have done).

Winter is almost upon us - again.

It's beginning to look a lot like redundancy.  Every year I think about all of the things on my to do list, and all of the things I've been putting off all year, decade, and my life.  The pressures of my job can only go so far as an excuse, and the fact is I do my job better when I have a creative outlet, so... here is my promise to myself - starting now, I will:

1. Write more
2. Photograph more
3. Sing more
4. Find more music
5. For the love of all that's holy, clean the damn closets already

#1 - I'm taking care of it.  Not just here, but also here.
#2 - I would love to, but first I need to invest in a better camera.  Hmmm.  Christmas.  Hmmm....
#3 - Easy peasy.  I'm working on a musical project with my friend Bunny Knutson, and the love of my life Zak Claxton, and they're expecting me to pull my weight.  With enough practice I might even begin to sound better.
#4 - All hail the mighty Genius, and the occasional iTunes gift card.  Hmmm again.
#5 - This one probably won't get done until next year.  Ah well.  I tried my best.

And yes, I realize that if you look at the very first post of evey blog ever created on Blogger, they all probably look a lot like this one.

I know a special secret about this blog though....

This is the second time I have started it.


EDIT:  Holy crap, I got the closets cleaned out.

NEW EDIT:  AAAAAAND... the closets need attention again. <sigh>