I posted Wednesday, offering a picture from the last page of a journal from spring 2000.
Actually, that wasn't the last page.
When I would get to the end of filling one of those yellow legal pads, on the second to last page I would kind of wrap up the preceding month, as you saw in Wednesday's post.
But on the actual last page, I would usually try to write a poem, or a song, or drop some piece of creative writing.
I think I am being pretty objective when I tell you that these poems were uniformly terrible. I was, and am, a lousy poet.
So when I dug out this particular journal, I was getting ready to cringe at whatever crap I'd written on the final page. What horrible metaphors or purple angst would be there.
Instead, I found this, on an otherwise blank sheet.
Here in 2014, it made me laugh out loud.
And just in case it doesn't come through, yes, I was being funny when I wrote this, not serious or dramatic.
Reading this, I'm pretty sure I came up with this line via The Breeders song "I Just Wanna Get Along," because around the time I wrote this, my friends and I would often quote the line "If You're So Special, Why Aren't You Dead?"
Much better than a crappy poem.
Hear the song on Youtube.
Friday, 28 February 2014
Thursday, 27 February 2014
Goldfinger "Here In Your Bedroom"
A Throwback Thursday post:
I did a post about journal entries yesterday, and that lead me to some other ideas for upcoming posts, featuring other things I found during my research.
So for Throwback Thursday, I was looking for a 90s song about being holed up in my bedroom . . . and what's more 90s than that Pop/Ska revival?
Hear the song on Youtube.
I did a post about journal entries yesterday, and that lead me to some other ideas for upcoming posts, featuring other things I found during my research.
So for Throwback Thursday, I was looking for a 90s song about being holed up in my bedroom . . . and what's more 90s than that Pop/Ska revival?
Hear the song on Youtube.
Wednesday, 26 February 2014
The Replacements "Everything's Coming Up Roses"
"Yeah, your late 20s can be pretty dramatic."
I was saying this to a friend of mine, who is in her late 20s. She'd been telling me tales of drama and awkwardness and other silliness that comes with being single and having roommates and lots of independence and no money and such.
Her stories, and the emotional ups and downs within, made me think back on that same period in my life. I've had it in my head that this was a pretty dramatic, eventful period in my life too.
But I decided to find out.
For most of my late 20s, I kept a pretty comprehensive journal. Every month or so I'd fill up an entire yellow legal pad with the comings and goings of my life, the loves and hookups and drama, and the vomiting of feelings onto the page, as I tried to make sense of it all.
I remember it feeling dramatic. But was it really as dramatic as it felt at the time?
At random, I grabbed a legal pad, of the dozens in a box in the basement and read through it.
In short, either I picked the most loaded journal of the bunch, or yes, life was dramatically dramatic when I was in my late 20s.
Within the month that I read through, I'd found out my Aunt had cancer, and old friend stopped speaking to me, another friend's husband committed suicide, my ex-girlfriend's cat died in the middle of the night and she made me come over to her house to deal with the cat-corpse, and, as the capper, my friends and I all lost our jobs.
Despite all this, the journal ends on an up-note, sort of.
"Well, what can you say about a month like this? Emotionally exhausting and I'm glad it's over. It'll certainly be interesting reading at some distant date, but right now it's pretty painful.
Friday night we did the Relay For Life (American Cancer Society fundraiser). Somewhere near 6am, an annoying 10 year old who'd been hanging around near me, for reasons unknown, the kid took a tennis ball and threw it as hard as he could intentionally hitting me in the nuts.
The good news is that I think my luck might be changing."
It's nice to know that despite the drama, I kept my sense of humor and a bit of light in the darkness and pain.
Hear the song on Youtube.
I was saying this to a friend of mine, who is in her late 20s. She'd been telling me tales of drama and awkwardness and other silliness that comes with being single and having roommates and lots of independence and no money and such.
Her stories, and the emotional ups and downs within, made me think back on that same period in my life. I've had it in my head that this was a pretty dramatic, eventful period in my life too.
But I decided to find out.
For most of my late 20s, I kept a pretty comprehensive journal. Every month or so I'd fill up an entire yellow legal pad with the comings and goings of my life, the loves and hookups and drama, and the vomiting of feelings onto the page, as I tried to make sense of it all.
I remember it feeling dramatic. But was it really as dramatic as it felt at the time?
At random, I grabbed a legal pad, of the dozens in a box in the basement and read through it.
In short, either I picked the most loaded journal of the bunch, or yes, life was dramatically dramatic when I was in my late 20s.
Within the month that I read through, I'd found out my Aunt had cancer, and old friend stopped speaking to me, another friend's husband committed suicide, my ex-girlfriend's cat died in the middle of the night and she made me come over to her house to deal with the cat-corpse, and, as the capper, my friends and I all lost our jobs.
Despite all this, the journal ends on an up-note, sort of.
"Well, what can you say about a month like this? Emotionally exhausting and I'm glad it's over. It'll certainly be interesting reading at some distant date, but right now it's pretty painful.
Friday night we did the Relay For Life (American Cancer Society fundraiser). Somewhere near 6am, an annoying 10 year old who'd been hanging around near me, for reasons unknown, the kid took a tennis ball and threw it as hard as he could intentionally hitting me in the nuts.
The good news is that I think my luck might be changing."
It's nice to know that despite the drama, I kept my sense of humor and a bit of light in the darkness and pain.
Hear the song on Youtube.
Tuesday, 25 February 2014
Foy Vance "You And I"
Most every DJ at MVY will tell you that they've had this dream . . . the one where they're late for their shift, and all the buttons on the control board are broken, or the buttons are new and they don't know how to operate it, or the microphone is broken, or they try to speak and no sound comes out, or the record keeps skipping and they have to stall on the air, live, endlessly.
It's the DJ nightmare.
I'm sure every profession has its own nightmare.
I've never been a Record Promo person, but I imagine their nightmares go something like this.
They spend months preparing a promotional campaign to encourage radio to play their new artist Foy Vance. And at the exact moment the promotion launches, another company starts promoting their artist, who's name is Vance Joy.
Every phone call they make to radio programmers goes like this:
"So have you heard the song I sent you from Foy Vance? . . . . . . No, not 'Riptide' . . . . . . . No, that's Vance Joy . . . he's a different guy . . . yes, a different guy, I'm talking about Foy Vance, not Vance Joy . . . yeah the names are similar, I know, but they are two different guys who sound nothing alike . . . if you just listen to the record you'll know . . . Foy Vance, that's the one I want you to hear . . . Yes I know, there is only a one letter difference between the two names . . . have you listen to Vance Joy, I mean, Foy Vance?"
Foy Vance, Vance Joy.
Seems like a joke, but it's not.
Listen to the two songs below. Just based on their sound, there is no way you'd confuse the two artists.
But because of the name similarity, I know Record Promo folks who are having conversations like the one above, every day.
They're living the nightmare.
Hear Foy Vance on Youtube.
Hear Vance Joy on Youtube.
It's the DJ nightmare.
I'm sure every profession has its own nightmare.
I've never been a Record Promo person, but I imagine their nightmares go something like this.
They spend months preparing a promotional campaign to encourage radio to play their new artist Foy Vance. And at the exact moment the promotion launches, another company starts promoting their artist, who's name is Vance Joy.
Every phone call they make to radio programmers goes like this:
"So have you heard the song I sent you from Foy Vance? . . . . . . No, not 'Riptide' . . . . . . . No, that's Vance Joy . . . he's a different guy . . . yes, a different guy, I'm talking about Foy Vance, not Vance Joy . . . yeah the names are similar, I know, but they are two different guys who sound nothing alike . . . if you just listen to the record you'll know . . . Foy Vance, that's the one I want you to hear . . . Yes I know, there is only a one letter difference between the two names . . . have you listen to Vance Joy, I mean, Foy Vance?"
Foy Vance, Vance Joy.
Seems like a joke, but it's not.
Listen to the two songs below. Just based on their sound, there is no way you'd confuse the two artists.
But because of the name similarity, I know Record Promo folks who are having conversations like the one above, every day.
They're living the nightmare.
Hear Foy Vance on Youtube.
Hear Vance Joy on Youtube.
Monday, 24 February 2014
Tegan & Sara and The Lonely Island "Everything Is Awesome"
As a parent, you end up watching a number of shows and movies that can range from horrible, to excruciating. You feel like it's a good day when your reaction to a movie was "well, that wasn't too terrible."
And then there are the really good days.
We took the kids to see "The Lego Movie" last week.
By the accounts of everyone in my group, the person in the theater who was laughing the loudest and the longest for the entire movie, was me.
I mean, the deck was pretty stacked, as the cast includes some of my favorite comedic actors, including Chris Pratt and Nick Offerman (both of Parks & Rec), Will Arnett, Elizabeth Banks and Will Ferrell. Liam Neeson and Morgan Freeman are surprisingly hilarious. There are a TON of cameos, both famous voices and also famous characters from other pop culture worlds.
And the main song in the movie is by The Lonely Island.
Bonus points: My kids liked the movie too.
Hear the song on Youtube.
And then there are the really good days.
We took the kids to see "The Lego Movie" last week.
By the accounts of everyone in my group, the person in the theater who was laughing the loudest and the longest for the entire movie, was me.
I mean, the deck was pretty stacked, as the cast includes some of my favorite comedic actors, including Chris Pratt and Nick Offerman (both of Parks & Rec), Will Arnett, Elizabeth Banks and Will Ferrell. Liam Neeson and Morgan Freeman are surprisingly hilarious. There are a TON of cameos, both famous voices and also famous characters from other pop culture worlds.
And the main song in the movie is by The Lonely Island.
Bonus points: My kids liked the movie too.
Hear the song on Youtube.
Sunday, 23 February 2014
The Maledictions of Mary Smith, 1616
Alexander Roberts, ‘Preacher of God’s word at Kings Lynn in Norfolk’ produced his A treatise of witchcraft Wherein sundry propositions are laid downe, plainely discovering the wickednesse of that damnable art …With a true narration of the witchcrafts which Mary Smith, wife of Henry Smith glover, did practise: of her contract vocally made between the Deuill and her, in solemne termes, by whose meanes she hurt sundry persons whom she envied (etc) in 1616. It is an interesting composite of brief demonological treatise and a reportorial pamphlet occasioned by a particular case in which he had had a personal involvement.
The work is not, of course, ‘original’; it offers no new opinions; Roberts is doctrinaire rather than insightful. But as he was a conscientious and learned man, he wrote a highly symptomatic book. In the first place, it is the form of his treatise that is indicative. Any demonological tract, when written with application, tended to be a text surrounded by side-notes. Roberts has not reached the condition of some of the more massive works, where a window of authorial text sits inside a square fortress of citation.
But his annotation is thorough enough to be eloquent of a text made out of derived opinions, an argument sustained by its sources.
The overall structure is also one of an enwrapped account: the disaster which overtook the quarrelsome and needle-tongued Mary Smith is told in a set of plain text pages, preceded by seven lengthily expounded and much-annotated ‘propositions’ about witchcraft advanced by Roberts, and followed by two more ‘propositions or corollaries’. Any witchcraft tract is made up by accretion: confirmatory opinions, various witnesses, individually incredible stories that, together, confirm an unlikely truth. One of demonology’s enfolded narratives was its own counter-discourse, and here, though Reginald Scot is either not known to Roberts or was avoided, Johan Weyer pops up repeatedly. He’s there to be confuted, of course, a voice of unreason amongst so many witnesses to the truth. But then, what curious witnesses they are! Roberts naturally uses first the standard bible texts, but (as a learned man of his age would do), he then multiplies examples from what he calls the ‘gentiles’ – a whole anthology of enchantresses in the classical world from Homer’s Circe onwards. Roberts means to reinforce his opinion about the veracity of witchcraft by the unstated ‘no smoke without fire’ tactic behind this and all such accumulations. But assembling the kind of stories people have told one another merely witnesses the general way in which people like stories. Such fictionality witnesses something in us, not in reality. Roberts, a bookish man, clearly cannot resist books: they have an authenticity to him, an authority worth repeating no matter (in the end) what they are, provided they are revered enough.
Out of the usual defensive welter of the demonologist (for witchcraft belief was always sandbagging itself against disbelief, and this work is just a conspicuous example of that) emerges the unlucky Mary Smith, a shrewd and shrewish woman with ‘a tongue like a tang’. She was perhaps smart enough to spot the symptoms of conditions that the people she cursed so accurately were concealing from themselves. In a later age she might have been a brilliant diagnostician, or at the least an astute health visitor. Anyway, if the people she crosses are starting to show their age or fray in health, she voices it sharply, her malediction foresees the worst possible outcome for the sufferer.
A sailor, John Orkton, struck her son, so she “wished in a most earnest and bitter manner, that his fingers might rotte off”. Whatever symptom of disease she had noted and used to give force to her curse, after nine months, “his fingers did corrupt, and were cut off; as also his toes putrefied & consumed in a very strange and admirable manner”. Mary Smith then took pleasure, it seems, in her astute observation: the “malitious woman, who long before openly in the streets, (whenas yet the neighbours knew of no such thing) rejoicing at the calamity, said, Orkton now lieth a rotting”.
A similar victim was Cicely Bailey, who provoked Mary Smith by sweeping in a manner Smith considered offensive to her (I should imagine that the direction in which the dirt was flicked was involved): “Mary Smith began to pick a quarrel … and said unto her she was a great fat-tailed sow, but that fatness should shortly be pulled down and abated. And the next night being Sunday immediately following, a Cat came unto her, sat upon her breast, with which she was grievously tormented, and so oppressed, that she could not without great difficulty draw her breath, and at the same instant did perfectly see the said Mary in the chamber where she lay, who (as she conceived) set that Cat upon her, and immediately after fell sick, languished, and grew exceeding lean; and so continued for the space of half a year together…”
Cicely Bailey did finally escape, and back at work in service to a master who lives outside Mary’s operating radius, recovered (one can imagine) her comfortably fat tail. The cat is the interesting thing here. All too clearly Mary Smith found her neighbours intolerably irksome. But she loved her cat, in a way we’d all recognize and understand. But in the age of demonology, part of the evidence against her was her victim Cicely’s account (and 17th century building standards feature here) of peeping through a crack in the partition between the house she inhabited and Mary Smith’s bedroom. The cat, off duty from oppressing plethoric Cicely (“the Divel being willing to apprehend and take hold upon such an occasion, that so he might do some pleasing office his bond-slave”) is being caressed: “whom she adored in submiss manner, upon her knees, with strange gestures, uttering many murmuring, broken, and imperfect speeches, as this Cicely did both hear and see, there being no other partition between the chamber wherein she performed these rites, and the house of her master with whom she then dwelt, but only a thin seeling of board, through a cranny or rift whereof she looked, listened attentively unto her words, and beheld diligently her behaviour, and might have seen and heard much more, but that she was with the present spectacle so affrighted, that she hastened down in much fear and distemper.”
The cat, identified by Roberts with the devil, was attacked by a neighbour with sword and pikestaff. It still managed, maimed, to get away and die somewhere. Mary Smith subsequently accuses the neighbour of having killed her cat, but Roberts opts to ignore her knowledge of its death to play up the supernatural quality of its apparent survival: “a great Cat which kept with this Witch (of whose infernal both purposes and practises wee now speak) frequented their house; and upon doing some scathe, her husband moved therewith, thrust it twice through with his sword: which notwithstanding those wounds received, ran away: then he stroke it with all his force upon the head with a great pike staff, yet could not kill her; but she leapt after this upward almost a yard from the boards of that chamber where she now was, and crept down: which he perceiving, willed his lad (a boy of fourteen years) to drag her to the muck-hill, but was not able; and therefore put her into a sack, and being in the same, still moved and stirred. Whereupon they put her out again, and cast her under a pair of stairs, purposing in the morning, to get more help, and carry her away; but then could not be found, though all the doors that night were locked, and never heard what afterward became thereof.”
A silkman, John Mason, tried to call in a debt from Mary’s husband. After “some execrations and curses being wished unto him, within three or foure days (being then gone to Yarmouth in Norfolk upon necessary business) there fell sick, and was tortured with exceeding and massacring griefs”. Mary has managed to trigger stress enough to affect him. We are told that his condition did finally improve when “this mischievous woman was committed to prison … at which time (so near as he could conjecture) he then received some release of his former pains, though at the present when he made this relation, which was at Candlemas last past, had not perfectly recovered his wonted strength: for his left hand remained lame, and without use.” So Mason sounds like a slowly-recovering stroke victim, a man who’d been in a poor state of health and who had just needed agitated alarm.
I know that I am sounding like Edward Bever on the efficacy of witchcraft, and maybe this post can be thought of as a response to his book, which I had out of the library just long enough to gallop through perhaps a third of the work before some other reader requisitioned the work. But one Elizabeth Hancock, after a quarrel about a hen, goes the same way as Mason, Mary triggers a psychosomatic collapse: “whereupon, breaking forth in some violence, she wished the pox to light upon her, and named her proud [h]inny, prowde flurts, and shaking the hand, bade her go in, for she should repent it; and the same night, within three or foure hours after these curses and imprecations uttered, she was taken and pinched at the heart.”
Elizabeth Hancock suffers a ‘sodaine weaknesse in all the parts of her body’, but with no loss of appetite. Every time she feels a little better, she gets some fresh air by leaning on the open-air stall in her house and shop. And, every time she is seen there, Mary Smith puts more the pressure on her: “whom this Marie Smith seeing, did ever ban, adding the former curse, the pox light upon you, can you yet come to the door?” After three weeks of this, there’s a climactic episode:
“and at the end of these three weeks, being but very weak, came forth as she used to do, to take the ayre, this mischievous woman most bitterly cursed her again, whereupon she went into the house, fell into such a torturing fit, and nipping at the heart, that she fainted, hardly recoverable for the space of half an hour, and so grievously racked and tormented through all parts of her body, as if the very flesh had been torn from the bones, by the violent pain whereof she could not refrain, but tore the hair from off her head.”
Elizabeth, convinced that she is the victim of Mary Smith’s effective curse, plays the part of witch’s victim with great energy. One doubts that there was much wrong with her, her appetite remained good. But she is getting three weeks in bed, lots of attention, and if she can get Mary Smith incriminated for witchcraft, then convicted and hanged, the witch will lose her power, and Elizabeth wins the quarrel.
With this forceful and unpleasant personality, and victims either willing to act out the part assigned them or exhibiting symptoms of a more advanced stage of their illness, it was in the end easy enough for Mary to believe in her own malign powers.
Roberts as minister got to know her in her last days, and says he will be “sparing by anie amplification to enlarge this” but will “nakedly rehearse the truth, and number of her own words unto me.”
From Roberts, Smith learned how to analyse her experience in the right demonological way: her first surrender to the devil, who “appeared unto her amidst these discontentments, in the shape of a black man, and willed that she should continue in her malice, envy, hatred, banning and cursing; and then he would be revenged for her upon all those to whom she wished evil: and this promise was uttered in a low murmuring and hissing voice” (Roberts makes a point of this, that the devil "cannot so perfectly represent the fashion of a man's body, but that there is some sensible deformity, by which he bewrayeth himself ... as in his body assumed, so in his speech there is a defect, for it is weak, small, whispering, imperfect."
Mary was executed on January 12th, 1616, in very “distemperate” weather. They clearly wanted to postpone the business to a better day, offering up as an excuse the notion that she might be brought to acknowledge more of her crimes, but Mary was not minded to oblige them “which she in no wise would condescend unto should be deferred”.
Despite the weather, a large crowd gathered, and Mary took control of the proceedings. As before, when she was considered to be an associate of the devil, she’d thoroughly convinced people that such were her real powers, so at the end she managed to play up to their ideology forcefully enough to give the impression that she was, despite everything, on her way to heaven:
“she in particular manner confessed openly at the place of execution, in the audience of multitudes of people gathered together (as is usual at such times) to be beholders of her death. And made there also profession of her faith, and hope of a better life hereafter; and the means whereby she trusted to obtain the same, as before, hath been specified. And being asked, if she would be contented to have a Psalm sung, answered willingly that she desired the same, and appointed it herself, The Lamentation of a Sinner, whose beginning is, Lord turn not away thy face, &c. And after the ending thereof thus finished her life: So that in the judgment of charity we are to conceive the best, and think she resteth in peace, notwithstanding her heinous transgressions formerly committed.”
Saturday, 22 February 2014
Guest Post ~ Jolene Perry
Hello!
I got the privileged of getting a guest post from the lovely Jolene Perry! I have done review for two of her many books, and I have another in my shelf waiting to be read. Her stuff never disappoints. Plus who doesn't like authors with fun.
I got the privileged of getting a guest post from the lovely Jolene Perry! I have done review for two of her many books, and I have another in my shelf waiting to be read. Her stuff never disappoints. Plus who doesn't like authors with fun.
I figured the things that make me want to read books are
1. blurbs
2. covers
3. snippets from the book
4. recommendations
So. I'm going to give you all four :-D
1. blurb:
All they have in common is that they're less than perfect. And all they're looking for is the perfect distraction.
Kate had the perfect boyfriend - until he dumped her. It couldn't have come at a worse time; ever since she found out she has diabetes, she's been trying to cope. She just wants to feel normal again.
Aidan planned on being a lifer in the Army and went to Afghanistan straight out of high school. Now he's the guy with one arm and nothing is the same as it was before. He wishes he could forget.
When Kate and Aidan meet, things couldn't be more awkward. Neither wants to get too attached, and they both could use some fun. But what if they need each other more than they realize?2. covers - And now for the cover - Pretty, yeah? I had nothing to do w/ it, but I love it :-D
3. snippets/excerpts!!
First - from Kate's first chapter:
ONE
"I never thought I could wake up the morning after kissing a boy, and still feel it. But wow, two days later and I still feel it." - Kate
TWO
“Fine. I’m fine.” I hate dealing with shots and carb counting, and everything that comes with being Type I Diabetic. Hate. Everything. And I’ve only been dealing with it for a year, but unless there’s some miracle cure, I’ll be dealing with it for the rest of my life. Mostly I’d rather think about how inconvenient it is right now. A future with it is too overwhelming. - Kate
And this is my Aidan -
ONE (and only)
“So, how’s life with one arm?”
“Peachy.” I need off the phone. I can’t believe he just asked me that dumbass question. Rolling over all the crap I spend every second of every minute of every day trying to not think about is not what I want to do this time of night.
Though, I also don’t want to be fighting away nightmares. No guy wants to admit to that. Well, no guy wants to admit a lot of the shit that’s in my head right now.
“Look, tell the guys I said hi. I need my beauty sleep.”
He laughs, again. “I knew it, I knew it! You’re already going soft. Got a girl in bed with you?”
“Three. Night Rob.”
I hang up the phone, reach around with my left hand, and feel the thick stub where my arm used to be. It still hurts like hell when I move wrong. My hand aches sometimes too, but it’s not there anymore, and shouldn’t be aching. Barely nineteen, no idea what I want to do with my life outside of the military, and now, because of the military, I have to live my life outside of it. Why the hell did he have to wake me up?
TWO
“Fine. I’m fine.” I hate dealing with shots and carb counting, and everything that comes with being Type I Diabetic. Hate. Everything. And I’ve only been dealing with it for a year, but unless there’s some miracle cure, I’ll be dealing with it for the rest of my life. Mostly I’d rather think about how inconvenient it is right now. A future with it is too overwhelming. - Kate
And this is my Aidan -
ONE (and only)
“So, how’s life with one arm?”
“Peachy.” I need off the phone. I can’t believe he just asked me that dumbass question. Rolling over all the crap I spend every second of every minute of every day trying to not think about is not what I want to do this time of night.
Though, I also don’t want to be fighting away nightmares. No guy wants to admit to that. Well, no guy wants to admit a lot of the shit that’s in my head right now.
“Look, tell the guys I said hi. I need my beauty sleep.”
He laughs, again. “I knew it, I knew it! You’re already going soft. Got a girl in bed with you?”
“Three. Night Rob.”
I hang up the phone, reach around with my left hand, and feel the thick stub where my arm used to be. It still hurts like hell when I move wrong. My hand aches sometimes too, but it’s not there anymore, and shouldn’t be aching. Barely nineteen, no idea what I want to do with my life outside of the military, and now, because of the military, I have to live my life outside of it. Why the hell did he have to wake me up?
4. recommentations I'm going to give you a rec right now!
YOU SHOULD READ MY BOOK!!
Or maybe Nyrae could convince you?
"With characters that touched my heart and a romance that made me swoon, this is a story I'll read again and again."
Or Christa Desir?
"Sweet, hopeful, uplifting. A beautifully written story about the heartache and healing of two people falling unexpectedly in love."
Friday, 21 February 2014
David Bowie "Rebel Rebel"
Part of being a DJ means announcing weird or awkward things. Things that don't come out of your mouth just right.
I always hate saying the name of this David Bowie song, because every time I do, I hear myself doing a Hamburglar imitation.
"Rabble Rabble."
Hear the song on Youtube.
See a vintage commercial on Youtube.
I always hate saying the name of this David Bowie song, because every time I do, I hear myself doing a Hamburglar imitation.
"Rabble Rabble."
Hear the song on Youtube.
See a vintage commercial on Youtube.
Thursday, 20 February 2014
Guided By Voices "My Valuable Hunting Knife"
A Throwback Thursday post:
That's the great thing about Guided By Voices, they could write a top-notch song about pretty much anything.
Hear the song on Youtube.
That's the great thing about Guided By Voices, they could write a top-notch song about pretty much anything.
Hear the song on Youtube.
Educate legislators, not voters
The general election to constitute the 16th Lok Sabha is less than 100 days way. The excitement will steadily increase in the coming days with the announcement of candidates, party manifestos and nation-wide campaigning by political bigwigs, besides of course the stepped up coverage in the media. Simultaneously, we will also see efforts by, mainly non-profit social organizations, to enroll new voters and exhort them to cast their ballots on the voting day.
Voting is our right. We are told that it's also our responsibility, that if we don't go and vote, we will only allow the present morass to continue. An implicit assumption here is that if we vote, we can usher in a new society that is fair, just and devoid of the most ubiquitous vice of corruption.
Indeed elections form the bedrock of a democracy. We must be proud that our country is one of the few nations in the world where the citizens enjoy this freedom to vote in and vote out rulers.
Whenever I could vote, I have voted. And I value that right and freedom greatly.
But I don't understand how the number of people who vote can determine the quality of governance? And, how voters, by turning out in huge numbers, can ensure a better government.
We have corruption and poor standard of living not because all eligible voters don't vote; it's because, the people who are voted to power (be it by 30, 60 or 90% of the electorate) do not work sincerely for the welfare of the society. For the lawmakers, comfort of ordinary citizens figures very low in their priority list.
The media have covered extensively how our legislators fall short of expectation, and how a lot of precious time is lost in our legislatures. There is more of disruption than any constructive engagement.
We in India have the freedom to vote. Even without any effort, India's voters have been coming out in good numbers to cast their franchise. India's voting percentage of around 60% is not bad at all. It's comparable to the turnout in the UK and in the US. It's extremely difficult to draw a correct correlation between the turnout percentage and quality of governance or the standard of living of a society.
During the past 10 to 15 years, we have seen a lot of efforts by social organizations to get youngsters to register for voting and educate them to take part in the democratic exercise. But the fact is that in spite of all that, during the assembly election last year, Bangalore recorded the lowest turnout. There is a lot of cynicism. Some people are indifferent, but many are disenchanted. Part of the blame lies in the failure of the political class to inspire voters. I have heard so many times, remarks like: "If these are the type of politicians we have, then why should I vote?"
What has been happening Parliament during the last few days over Telangana, and yesterday's incident in the UP assembly are the more recent cases.
There is definitely nothing wrong in campaigning to educate voters. It should continue. Citizens, especially, youngsters must be made aware of the precious democratic right we are privileged to exercise on one single day once every five years.
But that merely won't do, and won't achieve anything substantial. A high voter turnout is a high voter turnout, one one particular day. That's it. What matters to any society is what happens during the next five years. So, a much more intense effort must be undertaken to educate lawmakers and other politicians on their responsibilities and how to serve the people, during the five years of their tenure. The exercise of voting will have any real meaning only if the elected representatives honour the votes cast in their name and serve the society.
Voting is our right. We are told that it's also our responsibility, that if we don't go and vote, we will only allow the present morass to continue. An implicit assumption here is that if we vote, we can usher in a new society that is fair, just and devoid of the most ubiquitous vice of corruption.
Indeed elections form the bedrock of a democracy. We must be proud that our country is one of the few nations in the world where the citizens enjoy this freedom to vote in and vote out rulers.
Whenever I could vote, I have voted. And I value that right and freedom greatly.
But I don't understand how the number of people who vote can determine the quality of governance? And, how voters, by turning out in huge numbers, can ensure a better government.
We have corruption and poor standard of living not because all eligible voters don't vote; it's because, the people who are voted to power (be it by 30, 60 or 90% of the electorate) do not work sincerely for the welfare of the society. For the lawmakers, comfort of ordinary citizens figures very low in their priority list.
The media have covered extensively how our legislators fall short of expectation, and how a lot of precious time is lost in our legislatures. There is more of disruption than any constructive engagement.
We in India have the freedom to vote. Even without any effort, India's voters have been coming out in good numbers to cast their franchise. India's voting percentage of around 60% is not bad at all. It's comparable to the turnout in the UK and in the US. It's extremely difficult to draw a correct correlation between the turnout percentage and quality of governance or the standard of living of a society.
During the past 10 to 15 years, we have seen a lot of efforts by social organizations to get youngsters to register for voting and educate them to take part in the democratic exercise. But the fact is that in spite of all that, during the assembly election last year, Bangalore recorded the lowest turnout. There is a lot of cynicism. Some people are indifferent, but many are disenchanted. Part of the blame lies in the failure of the political class to inspire voters. I have heard so many times, remarks like: "If these are the type of politicians we have, then why should I vote?"
What has been happening Parliament during the last few days over Telangana, and yesterday's incident in the UP assembly are the more recent cases.
There is definitely nothing wrong in campaigning to educate voters. It should continue. Citizens, especially, youngsters must be made aware of the precious democratic right we are privileged to exercise on one single day once every five years.
But that merely won't do, and won't achieve anything substantial. A high voter turnout is a high voter turnout, one one particular day. That's it. What matters to any society is what happens during the next five years. So, a much more intense effort must be undertaken to educate lawmakers and other politicians on their responsibilities and how to serve the people, during the five years of their tenure. The exercise of voting will have any real meaning only if the elected representatives honour the votes cast in their name and serve the society.
Wednesday, 19 February 2014
Benmont Tench "Blonde Girl Blue Dress"
Perhaps you've heard that the new song by longtime member of Tom Petty's Heartbreakers is called "Blonde Girl Blue Dress."
I'm going to do you a favor and post this Benmont Tench song here.
Because if YOU go searching Youtube for the phrase "Blonde Girl Blue Dress" then you are going to leave a trail of browsing history that is going to be hard to explain to your significant other.
"No really honey, I was searching for a Benmont Tench song!"
Consider it a favor from me to you.
(And if you really care, then by all means, search away!)
I'm going to do you a favor and post this Benmont Tench song here.
Because if YOU go searching Youtube for the phrase "Blonde Girl Blue Dress" then you are going to leave a trail of browsing history that is going to be hard to explain to your significant other.
"No really honey, I was searching for a Benmont Tench song!"
Consider it a favor from me to you.
(And if you really care, then by all means, search away!)
Tuesday, 18 February 2014
Sordid Humor "Barbarossa"
A Throwback Tuesday post:
I'm sure there is some kind of rule that states if you're going to post some kind of Throwback song, it should be a tune that people at least vaguely remember.
I don't think this was much of a hit anywhere, though I did play it a ton on my Alternative show in the mid-90s.
It lives on as a curiosity, since some of the members of Sordid Humor went on to become Counting Crows, and this particular track features Adam Duritz as a guest back-up vocalist.
Hear the song on Youtube.
I'm sure there is some kind of rule that states if you're going to post some kind of Throwback song, it should be a tune that people at least vaguely remember.
I don't think this was much of a hit anywhere, though I did play it a ton on my Alternative show in the mid-90s.
It lives on as a curiosity, since some of the members of Sordid Humor went on to become Counting Crows, and this particular track features Adam Duritz as a guest back-up vocalist.
Hear the song on Youtube.
Monday, 17 February 2014
Commander Cody "Hot Rod Lincoln"
Happy Lincoln's Birthday Holiday!
If we're going with cars, then I don't understand why we're also celebrating Washington and not Ford.
Hear the song on Youtube.
Hear an AMAZING live version of "Hot Rod Lincoln" from the mvyradio Archives. Commander Cody guitarist Bill Kirchen will make your head spin for 9 incredible minutes.
If we're going with cars, then I don't understand why we're also celebrating Washington and not Ford.
Hear the song on Youtube.
Hear an AMAZING live version of "Hot Rod Lincoln" from the mvyradio Archives. Commander Cody guitarist Bill Kirchen will make your head spin for 9 incredible minutes.
Labels:
92.7,
abraham lincoln,
bill kirchen,
cape cod,
commander cody,
every day I write,
george washington,
hot rod lincoln,
martha's vineyard,
MVY Radio,
mvyradio,
PJ Finn,
president's day,
WMVY
Friday, 14 February 2014
Bright Eyes "First Day Of My Life"
My wife didn't know the name Monsters Of Folk. So when they played at Newport Folk a few years ago, she didn't realize that Conor Oberst was going to be on stage.
When he started singing "First Day Of My Life" it caught her off guard. She knew the song, but to hear him singing it live, sincerely and unexpectedly, it brought out a well of emotion. She still ranks Conor-Oberst-making-her-cry as one of her all-time concert highlight.
And if I didn't already associate the song with mushy, touching love-stuff, I saw the video for the first time ever, this week.
Maybe you'll have your own Conor-Oberst-making-you-cry moment.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Hear the song on Youtube.
When he started singing "First Day Of My Life" it caught her off guard. She knew the song, but to hear him singing it live, sincerely and unexpectedly, it brought out a well of emotion. She still ranks Conor-Oberst-making-her-cry as one of her all-time concert highlight.
And if I didn't already associate the song with mushy, touching love-stuff, I saw the video for the first time ever, this week.
Maybe you'll have your own Conor-Oberst-making-you-cry moment.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Hear the song on Youtube.
Labels:
92.7,
bright eyes,
cape cod,
conor oberst,
every day I write,
first day of my life,
martha's vineyard,
monsters of folk,
MVY Radio,
mvyradio,
newport folk,
PJ Finn,
valentine's day,
WMVY
Cover Reveal ~ Hold me Tight by Faith Sullivan
Hey Lovelies!
Happy Valentine's Day! My night will be comedies and writing because I don't think there is much left of a New Adult story I'm working on. However I am here to talk about the last installment for Faith Sullivan's Take Me Now series! The series is about what two people would do to hold onto love no matter what the problems are around them. The book isn't out yet, but I got the privilege to reveal the cover today! Please check this out and don't forget my Valentine's Day Giveaway is still going on.
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Happy Valentine's Day! My night will be comedies and writing because I don't think there is much left of a New Adult story I'm working on. However I am here to talk about the last installment for Faith Sullivan's Take Me Now series! The series is about what two people would do to hold onto love no matter what the problems are around them. The book isn't out yet, but I got the privilege to reveal the cover today! Please check this out and don't forget my Valentine's Day Giveaway is still going on.
Release Date: April 30, 2014
HOLD ME TIGHT synopsis:
He loves me. He loves me not.
Ivy's heart shatters upon hearing Eric's crushing ultimatum. Despite how much she cares for him, she won't give in to his demands. She has no choice but to leave, even if it's the hardest thing she's ever had to do.
She loves me. She loves me not.
When Ivy walks out, Eric can't help feeling betrayed. Unwilling to put her at risk, he values her safety above all else. By refusing to compromise, he's blindsided when she moves in with a man who's already stolen so much from him.
I love you. You love me not.
Lauren sees Eric and Ivy's split as an opportunity to end their relationship once and for all. When Ivy places herself at the mercy of Eric's rival, Lauren plots to destroy the fragile tie binding them together, even if she endangers Ivy's life in the process.
What readers are saying about HOLD ME TIGHT:
"Seriously - I'm considering sending Faith Sullivan an email every week until the next book is released. I need to know what happens!"
- Elnora Romness
"I’m really hoping Eric and Ivy can find a way to work things out, and that fate will give them a bit of a break—but if there’s one thing this series has proved to me, it’s that Faith Sullivan’s books will take us to places unexpected and impossible to predict."
- Stephanie Parent
"Faith Sullivan is so good at keeping me guessing and making me eagerly anticipate this book. Looking forward to see what's in store for Ivy and Eric."
- Kelly Hashway
"I so totally love Faith's books. Honestly, it's such a treat to nab them up and enjoy them."
- Meradeth Houston
"I really can't wait to read the conclusion to this series...I think it's going to be even better than the first two books!"
- Kelli Nash
He loves me. He loves me not.
Ivy's heart shatters upon hearing Eric's crushing ultimatum. Despite how much she cares for him, she won't give in to his demands. She has no choice but to leave, even if it's the hardest thing she's ever had to do.
She loves me. She loves me not.
When Ivy walks out, Eric can't help feeling betrayed. Unwilling to put her at risk, he values her safety above all else. By refusing to compromise, he's blindsided when she moves in with a man who's already stolen so much from him.
I love you. You love me not.
Lauren sees Eric and Ivy's split as an opportunity to end their relationship once and for all. When Ivy places herself at the mercy of Eric's rival, Lauren plots to destroy the fragile tie binding them together, even if she endangers Ivy's life in the process.
What readers are saying about HOLD ME TIGHT:
"Seriously - I'm considering sending Faith Sullivan an email every week until the next book is released. I need to know what happens!"
- Elnora Romness
"I’m really hoping Eric and Ivy can find a way to work things out, and that fate will give them a bit of a break—but if there’s one thing this series has proved to me, it’s that Faith Sullivan’s books will take us to places unexpected and impossible to predict."
- Stephanie Parent
"Faith Sullivan is so good at keeping me guessing and making me eagerly anticipate this book. Looking forward to see what's in store for Ivy and Eric."
- Kelly Hashway
"I so totally love Faith's books. Honestly, it's such a treat to nab them up and enjoy them."
- Meradeth Houston
"I really can't wait to read the conclusion to this series...I think it's going to be even better than the first two books!"
- Kelli Nash
Books in this New Adult Contemporary Romance trilogy:
Faith Sullivan is an author of New Adult contemporary romances including the HEARTBEAT trilogy, the TAKE ME NOW series and the 9/11 novel, UNEXPECTED.
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Thursday, 13 February 2014
Flesh For Lulu "Postcards From Paradise"
A Throwback Thursday post:
A top contender for "The Best Band With The Worst Name" category, 1980s division?
Hear the song on Youtube.
A top contender for "The Best Band With The Worst Name" category, 1980s division?
Hear the song on Youtube.
Wednesday, 12 February 2014
Ellen Foley "If You Can't Be Good"
I've written about Ellen Foley before, but if you don't know who she is, then you don't know The Clash, Meatloaf or Night Court.
She's got a new record out. I figured you'd at least be curious.
Hear the song on Youtube.
She's got a new record out. I figured you'd at least be curious.
Hear the song on Youtube.
Tuesday, 11 February 2014
XTC "Dear God"
A Throwback Tuesday post:
I know the message is supposed to be serious in the song . . . but I am too distracted by how terrifying it is when small ghostly children sing the words of adult men.
Hear the song on Youtube.
I know the message is supposed to be serious in the song . . . but I am too distracted by how terrifying it is when small ghostly children sing the words of adult men.
Hear the song on Youtube.
Monday, 10 February 2014
Nickel Creek "Destination"
It was notable that at Newport Folk 2012, the 3 members of Nickel Creek were all on campus, but did not play together. Chris Thile was performing with Punch Brothers; Sara Watkins was there as a solo act, with her brother Sean as part of her band.
At the time I said to myself, they'll probably play together, but not until the time is right, and now is not the time.
18 months later, now IS the time.
In the 9 years since their last record, collectively the 3 members of Nickel Creek have put out records under their individual names, and worked on projects as part of Fiction Family, Goat Rodeo, The Decemberists and WPA, as well as making guest appearances on many, many other projects.
All of this musical exploration can only mean great things, as the already talented and progressive members of Nickel Creek can return to the band with fresh ideas, perspective and confidence.
Hear the song on Youtube.
At the time I said to myself, they'll probably play together, but not until the time is right, and now is not the time.
18 months later, now IS the time.
In the 9 years since their last record, collectively the 3 members of Nickel Creek have put out records under their individual names, and worked on projects as part of Fiction Family, Goat Rodeo, The Decemberists and WPA, as well as making guest appearances on many, many other projects.
All of this musical exploration can only mean great things, as the already talented and progressive members of Nickel Creek can return to the band with fresh ideas, perspective and confidence.
Hear the song on Youtube.
Sunday, 9 February 2014
Sample Sunday ~ A Pirate's Life for Me
Hey Lovelies!
This is one of the stories that I'll be editing soon because come on, who doesn't like pirates? I finished it awhile ago, I think back in high school so I will be needing to fix the sentence structure a bit. However I'm excited. My goal is to knock out a couple of stories at once because if I dedicate a story to one Aunt and Uncle then wait awhile for another that could be slightly problematic. I have a couple ideas of the line up and a new story is almost done ;) it was a little hard to write a New Adult guy after Riley. PS don't forget to sign up for the giveaway going on!
Chapter 1 Jocelyn
This is one of the stories that I'll be editing soon because come on, who doesn't like pirates? I finished it awhile ago, I think back in high school so I will be needing to fix the sentence structure a bit. However I'm excited. My goal is to knock out a couple of stories at once because if I dedicate a story to one Aunt and Uncle then wait awhile for another that could be slightly problematic. I have a couple ideas of the line up and a new story is almost done ;) it was a little hard to write a New Adult guy after Riley. PS don't forget to sign up for the giveaway going on!
Chapter 1 Jocelyn
2
Jocelyn
"Jocelyn, where have you been?" an attempt of a stern voice was aimed at me as I kept my eyes on the ground trying to fix my hair.
My hair was so wind whipped I was having trouble getting my hair back into its restraints. Ratted out by my own hair.
"Sorry Papa, I just went on a little walk since we weren't that busy."
I felt a little disheartened. I thought Sly liked me a little even though we just met. At least interested in who I really was and not for what I could be used for. Then she had to come. I loathed Elizabeth with more hatred than I knew was possible before in my whole life. I just wanted to get away from her and to be like she has never existed, since I could not get away with murder. At the current moment I wondered if consequences of murder would be worth it.
"I'm going in just a few short days and I can't be having you wandering off whenever you feel like it," he spoke softly, his eyelids were heavy giving his eyes a weary expression.
Then he started to cough thickly. He had an arm wrapped around himself while the other was at his mouth. Papa fell to the ground onto his knees and I ran for help as my mind went blank. This could not be happening. This day was getting worse and worse by the second, at the rate today was going at the night would bring the black mark, bringing death. My stomach twisted at that thought.
I had to run for a bit till I found a doctor in the market, and he was fighting me to even come till I had tears streaming down my face, begging for him to help my Papa. All the while through the running and begging fear swam through my veins. This couldn't be happening, let him be alright. The doctor and I got Papa to his bed so he could look at Papa to see how he was doing. Papa by the time we did get to him, his mouth was covered in blood from the coughing, it had never been that bad before. He needed the doctor, but we could not afford this I was sure of it. As the doctor was examining my Papa I sat behind the curtain waiting, in a tight ball with only my own arms giving me comfort. The doctor took a little bit before coming out to see me. I stood back up only to be told that he would be lucky to make it through the night. The doctor left without another word. I nearly collapsed to the floor myself as I placed a hand on the table unable to look at the drape that leads to where Papa was laying.
Taking timid steps I wrapped an arm around my stomach, hoping that something would keep me up. I felt like a child again as I peeked around the fabric to see my Papa lying down with his eyes closed, raspy breathing, and a cloth next time him covered in red splotches. Bending down at Papa's side with my legs folded off. I held his hand through out the night as he slept. The silent tears flowed down my face the whole night. I was so afraid, part of me wanted to wake him up just to prove he could still talk to me. By dawn the hand I was holding became a frighteningly cold feeling, stiff. I couldn't believe it and I didn't want to, he was going to wake up. I couldn't bring myself to go to work. The doctor came by to check on him, and the doctor didn't look at me, but put a hand on my back. He just confirmed what I feared, my Papa was dead. He didn't stay with me long. Emotionless about telling me he would get someone to come get the body. He was my Papa, not some random piece of wood waiting to be moved.
They buried my Papa that day because they didn't feel like dealing with the stench in our home, especially since it really wasn't ours. Since it was part of the shipping yard they needed it back since he was dead. The master told me I was no longer living there and that I was kicked out, homeless. Since they only hired me because of my Father now they could fire me, which they did in a heartbeat. Not caring what happened to me. Didn't matter how much work we had put into this port. Yesterday morning my biggest problem was losing a guy to Elizabeth , now I was orphaned, homeless, and had no job for survival.
I sat there staring at my Papa's grave in the poor cemetery. Not a marker to make his spot any different than the others, other than freshly dug up dirt. I drew myself into a ball with my rags blowing in the light wind as the sun beat down on me, I was completely alone now. I cried not caring anymore what people thought. I was entirely alone in the world with no place to go. I was even poorer now than I was yesterday morning. My whole world was turned upside down.
"Jocelyn I just heard about your father, its quiet dreadful," an even voice behind me spoke.
I knew that wimp of a voice without having to turn around. He was doing such a horrible job of pretending he cared. I had no problem being bitter to him even if my Papa hadn't just died. I hated him even more than his sister, which I didn't think it was possible yesterday afternoon. I wiped my eyes with my dress to get rid of the evidence of the tears as my eyes narrowed.
"He died last night and you're giving me your sympathy now?" I snapped hearing the venom through each direct word.
"I guess with that attitude we'll get straight to the matter."
I turned my head to glare at him as I watched he walked in front of me so he was standing between me and the small mark that was suppose to be signifying where my Papa was.
"Since you hit rock bottom you will marry me and become a respectable lady. Then you will bore me children mostly sons so they can hold up the family name then-"
"Stop your horrible tongue!" I yelled feeling my whole body tense with hatred, my body felt like fire that could burn the whole island down was building. "I said before I wouldn't marry even if I hit rock bottom. The world could cave in leaving you as the only male left and I would pick death over you. If ladies such as your sister are respectable I refuse. I'm not going to lose my beliefs to be your living silent dolled up puppet."
He grabbed me by my arms and pulled me up onto my feet. I stared into his cold blue eyes as he tried to be tough. He wasn't dangerous he just had a bad temper like a three year old. I started to smirk, trying to hold back my laughter at how pathetic he really was a shell of a real man.
"You will and you will like it," he growled, tightening his grip as he gave me a shake.
I kicked him between the legs and ran for dear life as there was a groan filling the air as he fell to the grass. I sprinted gathering my skirts high giving my legs more room, to the back of the shipping yard where they had the garbage. I tried to catch my breath as I glanced around with my back against the wall. That was when I saw the few belongs we had in the garbage. I walked over slowly, my breath stuck in my throat as I ran my fingers over my father's second set of clothes. Then it hit me. There was one way I could escape marrying Henry and start a new life. I could finally get out of here and actually have a life of my own.
I exchanged my clothes for Papa's old ones, quickly hoping that no one would be looking. They were big on me, but these must have been from when he was younger because they were not as big as they should have been. I found an old rope and tied it tightly above the hips to keep my pants up. That was when I saw Papa's sword he used when he taught me. It was a little smaller than a normal one so it a little higher than my knee when around my waist. I held it running my fingers along the blade as the hilt of the sword felt old, but comfortable. This once belonged to him. It still had its belt so I exchanged it for the rope which really helped keeping the pants up, and I was happy to have a little bit of home with me.
I glimpsed down at myself and realized something. Actually it wasn't something more like some things. There wasn't much there, but they were there. I used the sword to cut my old blanket hearing the slice, not really caring what happened to it. Then wrapped it around my chest to make it flatter and it worked till I realized I couldn't hold it in place. I took out my hair pins and it held the cloth took a couple of tries to figure out how to get it to stay. The wind picked up causing my hair to blow around.
I tried brushing my hair back. Running my fingers through my hair my stomach dropped. I loved my hair. Bunching my hair together and with my other hand I rocked the sword against my hair till I was holding my long hair away from my head. I bit my lip as I looked at the hair, the hair lost just mean I was closer to independence. Loosening my grip the chopped strands fell to the ground. A slight breeze fluttered my hair out into the distance. I ran the now free hand through my hair, noticing my hair was shorter than Sly's.
I tip toed out and headed towards the public as a guy not able to stop running my hands through the new length of strands. I didn't have to tie it back anymore. I smiled at myself as I went to go search for a pirate ship. This was really happening. I had noticed there were a few coves our government didn't know about that the pirates hid in when they came to shores and no one was about to go tell on a pirate. I directed myself towards one of them without anyone stopping me or even noticing me. I was just a guy walking around.
I ran off the street, nearly skipping as I felt the sand fill up my shoes. I took my shoes off as each grain of sand sent sparks through my body. My heart started to beat as fast as a bird's wing as it soars through the sky, and I was finally about to be like a bird, not kept in a cage only to see the world behind the bars dreaming of what life really could be. Stepping over the rocks, the market was now no longer in view, the rocks smooth and slippery from the water as it crashed against them. I could see the ships and people gathered about. I started to run towards them as I tried to fight back a grin.
"Captain, is it wise to recruit here?" A man with an eye patch spoke.
A broad man, a tall solid tree of a man looked down at a skinny man with an eye patch. The Captain's black eyes glared at the man and the man backed away like a dog with his tail between his legs.
"Are you calling me daft? There are many poor men and boys here who are willing to partake in our lifestyle," a deep chuckle grew within the captains chest as he spoke his voice was as course as sandpaper.
His lips curled into an evil smirk that also grew in his eyes. As he laughed he threw his head back his thick, curly, black hair that was around his shoulders was thrown behind him, bouncing as he moved. Yet, his worn out Captain's hat stayed loyally on his head then he pushed the man with the eye patch away. The man stumbled trying to catch his balance with a wide eye.
"Those of you land lovers who fancy being a pirate go over there with our friends Tiny and Weasel." spoke the Captain in a roar of a voice.
I turned my head to see a man that was even taller than the captain, and might be the tallest man I have ever seen in my life. He was pure, solid muscle of a man with shoulders as broad as the horizon sky. He was completely bald with brown eyes that seemed to be trying to search into our souls, to see if we had what it takes to be here. My eyes enlarged thinking about how easily he could crush my head in his hands in the matter of seconds. The second man was a foot shorter than the first with wiry blonde hair, giving off the appearance of straw. His eyes were what really struck me about him. They kept twitching, and jumping from person to person, nearly a translucent blue color. I followed three other boys that were a little older than me, I was using their facial hair as a marker for their age, towards them. I was far smaller than all of them.
Tiny and Weasel glanced over the boys. They seemed very please with the first volunteer whom I thought I might have seen walking around the market before. They started to laugh at the second one and sent him away, but not till Tiny twirled out a knife from his waist and sliced a line on each of his cheeks. Which made me think he couldn't get in there was no chance for me, my heart started to speed up preparing what they could do to me. The image of two new blood lines being drawn on my face took over my vision. I never thought that they would reject people.
Then the third sent Tiny and Weasel into a fist fight on whether or not he should be in. The muscled one didn't seem to be putting any real effort into the fight. The Captain shot off his gun into the air and that seemed to get them to separate and get back to what they were supposed to be doing. The first guy and I were the only ones in that area other then the crew members that didn't jump in fear. My old boss was known for being gun happy to get things done.
Since the third guy did jump Tiny, (who turned out to be the muscle man) punched the third guy in the eye then the stomach because he caused a fight. Then a stripe of blood on each cheek like before with guy number two. His eyebrows were fused together. He didn't seem pleased that the Captain had to get involved. Tiny and Weasel started to cackle when they got to me, smiles seemed to be reaching their ears.
"Look at how miniature this one is Captain Black Soul. He's almost the size of a child." Tiny's voice bombed.
"Ha, tiny, oh so tiny ha!" snickered Weasel who seemed to have been hit in the head one too many times.
"I might be small, but unlike the other two I can defend myself," I snapped wanting to prove that I was just as tough as them.
I can do anything they threw at me. I was not about to step aside.
"Ah, this one has spirit," said the Captain raising an eyebrow heading closer to us now with his eyes locked onto me.
"I was raised to defend myself in every situation. I don't give up like those yellow bellies." I couldn't pull my eyes away. I was afraid if I showed weakness that I would be pushed aside.
"Ha, I fancy this one. Are you willing to listen to me and do commands like the others?" he had a smirk on his lips as he straightened up completely towering over me to prove the others statement that I was the size of a child.
"Aye, Captain."
I tried to hide my excitement. After all I was trying to prove that I was a tough guy not a giddy, childish girl. I didn't have a real high pitch voice to begin with, but it wasn't as deep as a normal guy's so I tried to make it a little deeper with some of the words.
"Have you been on a ship before?"
"Yes, I've worked on them," I answered trying to hold back from biting my lip and smiling.
A corner of Captain Black Soul's mouth went further up.
"You're in, but the second you do something we find disliking it will be the plank with you."
I held the grin and nodded my head. I can swim as long as land was in sight. Then they ushered us on the ship. I was given my first order to go to the front to help untie the sails so we could take off. Then we were on our way as the wind picked pressed against the fabrics. Tiny strolled up to me and gave me a bucket filled with brown water and a mop that had seen better days. I was more than happy though and I started mopping.
"You never gave us a name." Tiny growled.
"The name's Jo-" I stopped before I continued to say my full name.
"Get to work."
"Aye!"
Then I started mopping happily. I kept going feeling free for the first time in my life. Feeling the sea air with the full effect unlike the beach which had a lot of wind blocked by the buildings. My newly short hair danced in the wind as a small smile graced my lips. I glanced up occasionally as I watched my home grow smaller and smaller. I could not see my actual house, but I knew it was there. I was leaving just about everything I have ever known behind me. The white sand was becoming a fine strip bordering the green blob of what was the island. I could almost see the Governor's place from the ship. The water seemed to be getting darker as we rode the waves. I was torn between from being homesick already and the exhilaration of the beginning of a new life for me. I had to keep myself busy with the work just so that I would not get caught up with staring as land became smaller and that I would not get in trouble my first day as a pirate.
"You missed a spot," a deep monotone voice came from behind me taking my attention away from the boards in front of me covered in murky water.
I glimpsed up to see Sly looking at me then he fused his eyebrows together. The air caught in my chest as my eyes briefly looked into his. The carefree smile that he once seemed to make his face glow was no longer there. His face seemed to be emotionless by all means, with the hint of question in his eyes.
Friday, 7 February 2014
Pooh Sticks "Cool In A Crisis"
We had some friends over for dinner this past weekend. It's one of the most wonderful social things that has come out of Parenthood:
We've become friends with other couples whose kids are the same age as ours. We have them over the house, serve the kids dinner and then set them loose in the basement, or put on a movie. The kids are blissfully happy, and the adults have a relaxing meal with a few cocktails until the children crash.
When someone spilled a drink, I leisurely got up and grabbed a roll of paper towels. One of my friends remark that I always seemed to respond to things calmly.
It's true.
I won't say I never lose it. Never freak out. It happens.
But I do have a reputation for being unflappable and calm.
There are two vignettes from my childhood that come to mind, time and time again. I attribute my attitude to these stories.
I had a friend who's Dad worked for the Gas company. He was super-funny and a great storyteller. And even when his kids try to mess with him, you could not knock the man off his balance.
He told me this story that has stuck in my head these past 30+ years. (I'll admit that I don't know how much he may have embellished his own story; and admittedly, I am probably failing to re-tell his story in any way that is accurate. But I'll give you the gist, and note that his point was made, and taken).
He told the story of a major, dangerous Gas main breach. The lower management-types on-site had been unsuccessful at stopping the flow. One person on the scene was dead. He arrived and asked if the shutdown protocols had been followed.
"Did you call and have them shut down #1?"
"Yes!" his panicked employee said.
"And #2?" "Yes!" with great distress.
"And #3?" "We did it. And it won't stop."
"Let's call down again." "But we did it already."
"Let's call," he said calmly, calling down to number one. "Can you shut down number one?" They were already shut down.
He called number two. "Can you shut down number two?"
"Yes sir," came the reply.
As my friend's Dad told the story, he made the whoooshing sound of wind through a tunnel. And now he made the sound of the wind, slow, stopping and disappearing.
Change of scenery now, to the 2nd vignette.
Sometime in my life, around the same time I heard the Gas main story, my family was on a vacation, and we'd gone to some enormous waterpark.
If I was 13 at the time, then my middle sister was 10, and my little sister was 5.
Amy was a tough cookie, and would absolutely not be deterred from doing anything her older siblings did, regardless of her age or size.
And that included the giant water tube.
Unlike a regular waterslide, which is usually a fast, slippery, fun ride, where you can look up at the sky as you zip down to a pool, the giant water tube was more of a long twisty pipe. It was dark, and the ride was very very fast. And at the end, instead of splashing into a pool, the tube ended about 5 feet above the pool, so you shot out of the tube and did a freefall into the water.
Just the kind of stupid fun a stupid, kinetic teenage boy would like. And a ballsy 5 year old girl would insist on trying.
Of course, it was a little much for Amy, and I remember seeing her come out of the tube, hit the water and come up fast. But the adrenaline and the disorientation were a little too much. She just kinda flailed in the middle of the pool, in a panic. She didn't know which way to swim or what to do next.
The lifeguards, I'm sure, were used to this. They fished her out and she was fine. I don't exactly remember, but knowing Amy, I'm sure she went again.
Both stories impressed upon me the notion that remaining as calm as possible in a crisis is the best way to see yourself clear out of the situation. Panic can lead to missing an important bit of information, or can just completely obscure the path to safety.
Barring that approach, when faced with a crisis, it can't hurt to steel yourself with a hummable, light pop tune about remaining calm, from a band called The Pooh Sticks.
Hear the song on Youtube.
We've become friends with other couples whose kids are the same age as ours. We have them over the house, serve the kids dinner and then set them loose in the basement, or put on a movie. The kids are blissfully happy, and the adults have a relaxing meal with a few cocktails until the children crash.
When someone spilled a drink, I leisurely got up and grabbed a roll of paper towels. One of my friends remark that I always seemed to respond to things calmly.
It's true.
I won't say I never lose it. Never freak out. It happens.
But I do have a reputation for being unflappable and calm.
There are two vignettes from my childhood that come to mind, time and time again. I attribute my attitude to these stories.
I had a friend who's Dad worked for the Gas company. He was super-funny and a great storyteller. And even when his kids try to mess with him, you could not knock the man off his balance.
He told me this story that has stuck in my head these past 30+ years. (I'll admit that I don't know how much he may have embellished his own story; and admittedly, I am probably failing to re-tell his story in any way that is accurate. But I'll give you the gist, and note that his point was made, and taken).
He told the story of a major, dangerous Gas main breach. The lower management-types on-site had been unsuccessful at stopping the flow. One person on the scene was dead. He arrived and asked if the shutdown protocols had been followed.
"Did you call and have them shut down #1?"
"Yes!" his panicked employee said.
"And #2?" "Yes!" with great distress.
"And #3?" "We did it. And it won't stop."
"Let's call down again." "But we did it already."
"Let's call," he said calmly, calling down to number one. "Can you shut down number one?" They were already shut down.
He called number two. "Can you shut down number two?"
"Yes sir," came the reply.
As my friend's Dad told the story, he made the whoooshing sound of wind through a tunnel. And now he made the sound of the wind, slow, stopping and disappearing.
Change of scenery now, to the 2nd vignette.
Sometime in my life, around the same time I heard the Gas main story, my family was on a vacation, and we'd gone to some enormous waterpark.
If I was 13 at the time, then my middle sister was 10, and my little sister was 5.
Amy was a tough cookie, and would absolutely not be deterred from doing anything her older siblings did, regardless of her age or size.
And that included the giant water tube.
Unlike a regular waterslide, which is usually a fast, slippery, fun ride, where you can look up at the sky as you zip down to a pool, the giant water tube was more of a long twisty pipe. It was dark, and the ride was very very fast. And at the end, instead of splashing into a pool, the tube ended about 5 feet above the pool, so you shot out of the tube and did a freefall into the water.
Just the kind of stupid fun a stupid, kinetic teenage boy would like. And a ballsy 5 year old girl would insist on trying.
Of course, it was a little much for Amy, and I remember seeing her come out of the tube, hit the water and come up fast. But the adrenaline and the disorientation were a little too much. She just kinda flailed in the middle of the pool, in a panic. She didn't know which way to swim or what to do next.
The lifeguards, I'm sure, were used to this. They fished her out and she was fine. I don't exactly remember, but knowing Amy, I'm sure she went again.
Both stories impressed upon me the notion that remaining as calm as possible in a crisis is the best way to see yourself clear out of the situation. Panic can lead to missing an important bit of information, or can just completely obscure the path to safety.
Barring that approach, when faced with a crisis, it can't hurt to steel yourself with a hummable, light pop tune about remaining calm, from a band called The Pooh Sticks.
Hear the song on Youtube.
Thursday, 6 February 2014
Bloodhound Gang "Fire Water Burn"
Here's a Throwback Thursday post:
Over the years, I have receive many, many, many, many CDs in the mail.
Most come with some kind of bio information.
Some will include a handwritten note.
Often they may include a sticker.
Occasionally, you get a song/artist-related key chain or, if they've got a big budget, a free t-shirt.
But in my 20 years in radio, I have only received one promotional bologna sandwich.
It came in a flat envelope with the band's CD. The sandwich had been smooshed a bit.
It was one slice of bologna and one slice of yellow/orange cheese, on 2 pieces of white bread. It was in a sandwich bag, but the kind that just folds over at the top. There is no seal.
I did not eat it.
But I remembered the band.
And a year later, when they put out "Fire Water Burn" and had a silly, silly hit with it, I remembered the band, and the bologna sandwich, and I thought, "Yeah, that's about right."
Hear the song on Youtube.
Over the years, I have receive many, many, many, many CDs in the mail.
Most come with some kind of bio information.
Some will include a handwritten note.
Often they may include a sticker.
Occasionally, you get a song/artist-related key chain or, if they've got a big budget, a free t-shirt.
But in my 20 years in radio, I have only received one promotional bologna sandwich.
It came in a flat envelope with the band's CD. The sandwich had been smooshed a bit.
It was one slice of bologna and one slice of yellow/orange cheese, on 2 pieces of white bread. It was in a sandwich bag, but the kind that just folds over at the top. There is no seal.
I did not eat it.
But I remembered the band.
And a year later, when they put out "Fire Water Burn" and had a silly, silly hit with it, I remembered the band, and the bologna sandwich, and I thought, "Yeah, that's about right."
Hear the song on Youtube.
Wednesday, 5 February 2014
Ingrid Michaelson "Girls Chase Boys"
I was going to write a post along the lines of "Uh, is this Robert Palmer parody a little late?"
Then I realized that "Addicted To Love" came out in 1986. Meaning, anyone age 27 or younger (like a large swath of Ingrid Michaelson's audience), wasn't even born when the video was in heavy rotation on MTV.
The parody is so old that it's gonna be completely new to a lot a lot of people. To some, they may not even realize it is a parody, it's so old.
Thoughts on this?
Hear the song on Youtube.
Then I realized that "Addicted To Love" came out in 1986. Meaning, anyone age 27 or younger (like a large swath of Ingrid Michaelson's audience), wasn't even born when the video was in heavy rotation on MTV.
The parody is so old that it's gonna be completely new to a lot a lot of people. To some, they may not even realize it is a parody, it's so old.
Thoughts on this?
Hear the song on Youtube.
Tuesday, 4 February 2014
Valentine's Day Giveaway!
Hey Lovelies!
For me Valentine's Day bothered me because if you love someone you shouldn't wait once a year to tell that person on the same day that everyone else is doing the same thing. That might make me sound grumpy, if you read my stuff you know I'm all for love despite my bashing of this holiday. If I get my butt moving on more stories you'll see more of it. I think everyone has a chance at love, and every relationship is different. This giveaway is to celebrate that every relationship is different and should be celebrated. The roses by the way are not only for Valentine's Day, but also because each rose has a meaning in Beneath the Scars! Each rose will have the note that that color rose has in the book. I'm sorry if those who win End of the Line or Family Ties won't get it, I thought it would be cute. The roses are fake, so don't worry there will not be a dead rose for the winners! I feel like I'm forgetting something...
**US giveaway only! As of right now I can't do an international giveaway, but keep your eyes open!**
Corporal Riley Nolan is back home and out of the hospital after sustaining severe injuries in a skirmish overseas. His physical injuries may be healed, though he is left with horrible scars all over his body. His mind is still healing, and he has almost no contact with the world outside his small dark apartment.
After the death of her parents and being forced to sell their house and move into an apartment in a new town, Eponine is left picking up the pieces while trying to maintain a normal life for her little sister, Genevieve.
Can these new neighbors help each other heal, finding the light and laughter in the world again? Most importantly, can Eponine help Riley see he's not the monster he believes himself to be beneath the scars?
When so much is lost how does one to have the strength to move on? At seventeen Lauren was prepared for yet another year of school. Then asteroids hit, killing all of those she knew except for a few other teens from her neighborhood. Joining forces with her classmate Aaron, they work together on the journey in the hopes of finding more people that are alive. On the way, threats of starvation, illness, and freezing to death don’t compare to the danger of Dean Manson. Manson is an ex-con out for revenge against Aaron. With so much working against them these teens fight for everything even if it means denying their feelings just for the chance to see a new day.
Stories told by word of mouth can get twisted or lost. Abby grew up hearing about her great-grandmother Emma, a royal who left that life to come to America. Yet when Abby takes a summer job with her best friend Cory, she feels eyes on her. When she is kidnapped after leaving work, Abby learns there may be a hidden part of her family tree...
a Rafflecopter giveaway
For me Valentine's Day bothered me because if you love someone you shouldn't wait once a year to tell that person on the same day that everyone else is doing the same thing. That might make me sound grumpy, if you read my stuff you know I'm all for love despite my bashing of this holiday. If I get my butt moving on more stories you'll see more of it. I think everyone has a chance at love, and every relationship is different. This giveaway is to celebrate that every relationship is different and should be celebrated. The roses by the way are not only for Valentine's Day, but also because each rose has a meaning in Beneath the Scars! Each rose will have the note that that color rose has in the book. I'm sorry if those who win End of the Line or Family Ties won't get it, I thought it would be cute. The roses are fake, so don't worry there will not be a dead rose for the winners! I feel like I'm forgetting something...
**US giveaway only! As of right now I can't do an international giveaway, but keep your eyes open!**
First Prize!!
Beneath the ScarsCorporal Riley Nolan is back home and out of the hospital after sustaining severe injuries in a skirmish overseas. His physical injuries may be healed, though he is left with horrible scars all over his body. His mind is still healing, and he has almost no contact with the world outside his small dark apartment.
After the death of her parents and being forced to sell their house and move into an apartment in a new town, Eponine is left picking up the pieces while trying to maintain a normal life for her little sister, Genevieve.
Can these new neighbors help each other heal, finding the light and laughter in the world again? Most importantly, can Eponine help Riley see he's not the monster he believes himself to be beneath the scars?
Second Prize!!
End of the LineWhen so much is lost how does one to have the strength to move on? At seventeen Lauren was prepared for yet another year of school. Then asteroids hit, killing all of those she knew except for a few other teens from her neighborhood. Joining forces with her classmate Aaron, they work together on the journey in the hopes of finding more people that are alive. On the way, threats of starvation, illness, and freezing to death don’t compare to the danger of Dean Manson. Manson is an ex-con out for revenge against Aaron. With so much working against them these teens fight for everything even if it means denying their feelings just for the chance to see a new day.
Third Prize!!
Family TiesStories told by word of mouth can get twisted or lost. Abby grew up hearing about her great-grandmother Emma, a royal who left that life to come to America. Yet when Abby takes a summer job with her best friend Cory, she feels eyes on her. When she is kidnapped after leaving work, Abby learns there may be a hidden part of her family tree...
a Rafflecopter giveaway
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