Ha Ha Ha Comedy.

  1. I decided to link my blog to my Twitter again so just LOOK OUT! You finally will get to find things out about me! My apologies if this saddens your eyeballs.
  2. Actually, I’ve been working on a kind of lampoony, passing-the-buck, disclaimer song. It’s pretty droll. I like that word, ‘droll.’ Why does it feel like Christmas?
  3. Maybe Santa Claus is droll? Or his elves? Maybe I should move on.
  4. No news on Nur Ein. (I’m DJ RangerDen)–I am neither DJ, nor Ranger. It takes too long to explain. No news is fruit juice, right?
  5. Except aaaaaaaaaack. I actually have already written a poem that is exactly the instructions for the next song title and challenge. Weird. I don’t think it would have made it through, not for a second–it’s way way too oblique. But it satisfies it for me so I will maybe set it to music if I am booted out of here. It’d be my first Nur Ein shadow, at any rate.
My gorgeous handwriting, hello kitty notes, and favorite tiny game on a mug. I work real hard, kids. Go team go.
  1. I am not going to get too into doing more song contests because I have to set up in other ways. Already behind on other projects and am panicking-but need to find a deadline-centered work ethic which feels different from “Be here at this place now at this time” which is calendar-like and something I understand. I understand gigs better than projects.
  2. Grow up, self.
  3. I am writing comedy right now and I am noticing the key to doing this is thinking of it like music, with rests and breathing and dynamics.
  4. I am way behind because I have actually been writing music. But this is actually because I was doing standup so one thing being good for the other is a success story.
  5. I am blogging again too so this is also a success.
  6. I decided to stop blogging and go back to writing comedy. Because of work ethics and all. Later, I will be giving dating advice to friends–which I am in no way qualified to do for so very, very many reasons.

B.R.A.T.ty Post

I’m sick. The kind of sick we don’t discuss in polite company. So I won’t. I’ve smelled nicer though. &-You’ve all heard it before, but my breath could improve. I have been showering often. I don’t know why I pop on here to tell other people’s phones, tablets, and screens about my level of hygiene. Does this fulfill anyone?

I suppose when I said I wouldn’t discuss being sick, I was Politely Lying. I was saying “oh, you shouldn’t have,” when quite clearly you should–so quite certainly I will. Tastefully, but mournfully, I’ll share with everyone my short list of Woes:

1. Bananas
2. My husband requested a joke here, but I felt it was in poor taste. So all I will say is I advanced several levels in many tiny games and I dont like Sudoku as much as I once did. 
3. Rice.
4. some really DIRE and cryptic texting about what I’m going through with some exceptionally feelingful emojis that got pretty damn insightful but oh yes, I will spare you my tender audience. Plus the death knell of a Medical Call. to my Father, a retired pediatrician–who is just trying to live a life of peace and write a book about how to raise children in a godly fashion. #thestruggleisreal
5. Pudding I found out from him I should not have consumed which contained Regretted dairy. I know because I assembled it from a pudding powder package from scratch.
6. excessively comfortable pants and a percussive headache somehow connected to my digestive processes.

Uh oh ….. NUMBER SEVVVVVENNNNN: 
THIS JUST IN!!


husband went to the Houston Texans game (sorry, luv) and BEL BIV DEVOE did the halftime show and he did not get ONE SECOND of video clip!! 🙀

8. travelling minstrels taking the red-eye to Lovely Austin Bergstrom International Airport #sorry #thestruggleisreal
9. pathetic work sprints in a haze of illness denial.
10. serious bingeFlixing of shows whose plots and cast members I will forever associate with suffering and tiny sips of tea and the aforementioned BRAT diet.
11. A MESSY house that could be worse. This still does not make me want to cross that line where I make the word adult be a verb, but it’s starter-lesquerly.
12. abject misery and a certainty of a very dire future gastronomical outcome indeed.

That’s probably enough, y’all.

ps. Yes, the Texan cheerleaders are wearing jort-overalls over half-shirts. All in white. After Labor Day. 

I have no opinion on these matters. 

‘..If I were you, I’d take precautions.’

  ***********************

photo is:
-the halftime show at the Houston Texans game today featuring the Texan cheerleaders and Bell Biv Devoe doing ‘Poison’ which probably rocked. pic by husband MMcA.

meow {heavily edited}

1. Well, I’m back in this year’s Nur Ein again. It’s the ninth one.

2. I sailed in with several panicked emails after a week long cold and a family Easter celebration a minute or so shy of “deadline.” Week Zero is kind of a qualifier. I obsessed about it with a friend but was fine. I had it done, and in less than five hours too! 🙂
3. It’s ridiculous.
4. I put up a more Finished version …

{EDIT: and then … an even MORE finished version than THIS, which I originally put up}
{FURTHER EDIT: for some reason, once again, the ‘philosophywithfries-y’ linky is not ka-working. Ack. Flarg. Snurg. Fligg… Gurff.

…at my Newly minted website music.denisehudson.com (it really just goes to my bandcamp. Also, go ahead and click on philosophywithfries.denisehudson.com … Pretty savvy, folks. Tomorrow I’m gonna buy a theme and then I’m gonna start doing STUFF! {addendum: the website faeries are doing magical things and this is all in some kind of process I do not quite Fathom. But it shall all come to pass at Some Point…..}
5. this song isn’t really that great, is getting kinda better 🙂 🙂 🙂 but AND it amuses me. SO I’ll keep working on it probably CERTAINLY until I’m happier with the vocal because I don’t like it yet shall indeed come to like it. It’s blippy MEYOW-LICIOUS.

🙂

moths like mermaids

Hummingbird Moth (9691010084)

sweet butterfly,
you are counting the times
that you make the trip.
you fly between the garden
and your spaceship,
worried you will be thrown back
to chrysalis for taking too many sips
(as though you could wear out the welcome
on the invitation to that flower bed).

still …
don’t pace yourself.

beat tiny wings.
soon, they turn to holes.

if you feel embarrassment,
if you flush with sin
(for you still rush in as you always did!
– ocean glistening off the skin; an insect believes she’s full of feathers … or fins,
ready for love in waves…)

just don’t cry when the tides rush in,
knowing well they’ll fall away.
you will be so smashed –
exposed!
wings pressed to sand
or caught in light or dustpan
mistaken for a wasp or common moth,

not a bird at all then…
not a myth…

but you went out alive,
spread out in color ‘till you died
…threw everything you had at what you wanted
…stole away all the honey faerie story
you could find.

~d.hudson 4/2014

drowned

I can’t sleep.

(released 16 Apr. 2011 for omgsongclub.com)

I’m having dreams. I wake up and I feel panic attacky because I drown to death. And for the first time I think that I can’t do This thing I want to do with my life …. my work and goals … and that I’m feeling my mortality and that time is deserting me completely and I can’t catch up. I can be pessimistic, but usually I’m not defeatist.

It’s like I didn’t know I was actually playing THAT kind of game with Time; I thought we were having a friendly exchange after dinner and drinks, not a bloodbath death match. So I’m laying beside the card table holding my intestines in, bleeding all over the rug. This is that kind of metaphor – way worse than just not bouncing back like I used to. 

You swim or you drown.

I’ve had this dream before. My stomach hits the ground and I know I’m in the same place I am always in. I’ll get sucked down if I don’t quit being embarrassed about my instincts and ditch these heavy waterlogged clothes before the sharks figure out I’m bleeding to death as I try to make sure the pretty jellyfish and seahorses don’t see me in my knickers. It’s absurd to be drowning, concerned about the sensibilities of carnivorous fish in a world that doesn’t actually exist.

The dreams have a tragically hopeful, lying little boat and usually there’s intimidating music playing off in the distance … the kind I always think i wish i could improv to that, on a boat, in a snazzy little dress, swapping solos in some high demand ensemble with great chemistry all between them. It’s always some fancy dress party on some yacht full of Relaxing Eveningwear Conversations and The Better Cocktails. This time, the music ended and MY music was playing (the song I put in here … which I haven’t thought about for a long time because I’ve been writing a lot.), but with fuller-real orchestra to it. I rarely dream my own music that I’ve already written. If it’s new music, it’s something I’ve yet to write and often I forget it before I wake up.

And usually in this Drowning-Dream, I’m being sucked down in some dark harbor, some place where I can see twinkling city lights and fishing boats and the outlines of buildings – like those places where detectives meet to whisper about conspiracies or where they probably go under those bridges to hide the bodies. But in last night’s dream, I was in the ocean in my sundress with the little sash and my sweater and these cowboy boots that I have and those were dragging me down to the bottom. The boat was very, very far away.

And I died slowly. My lungs filled with water and I felt them explode. I woke up and I blamed my heartburn for the feeling. I have that now and I take medicine for it. I feel old now. I blame fried chicken and a series of disappointments and mild to moderate betrayals. 🙂 Perhaps I am being dramatic.

In all seriousness, I know that I am on the verge of something. My beliefs have been lost in some kind of karmic spin-cycle. When you are not sure where the center of your soul is meant to sit – or whether or not you were ever the sort of person who the universe allows the luxury of having a gentle, loving soul … it takes an adjustment period. I never wanted to grow up to be hard as nails.

Mom would have been 64 this year. I’m so far beyond needing to talk to her it makes me laugh rather than cry. I laugh at myself instead of crying now a lot of the time and it feels reassuring, like a slap of discipline or just jumping in the pool instead of easing in.

Dreams of dying are not supposed to be bad, apparently. They signify peace, or change. Maybe it’s the universe, teaching us. And I think I am probably afraid of something. I keep looking for land. But I know that there’s nothing for me on that boat full of well dressed people.

The boat people would probably just throw me a martini. And then while I was sinking, rather than wanting a lifeboat like a normal person, I’d request another drink.

2dust

henryblood
see note below on photo. mixed media of kitchen items. (cup, knife, icing container, food coloring)

I wrote a Spintune which I may or may not release on the evening of Sunday the 24th while waiting to finish up the Hudson and Day shadow track for Round 2, of Spintunes 8 – which is supposed to be about hatred and also we may not finish it but we don’t have to because it’s a shadow entry. That means that we’re not competing because we got eliminated because:

I had to update:
*Mavericks
*Cubase 7
*Pianoteq
*my Play software
*my Apogee drivers
*my midi interface
a bunch of other things I can’t remember

….also, the learning curve on Cubase 7(.5) from Cubase 5 is substantial. The upgrade process wiped out simple things like my keycommands and those sorts of things. My entire workflow that I’ve worked a few years of these contests getting used to had to be rebuilt from the ground up. I had to keep telling myself “no. You are not getting paid. This is Spintunes. If you are late or turn in a horrible entry, no one will explode. You will move on from this. And Alyssa is a cool cucumber. She can handle herself. You’ve sucked before and she’s been groovy about it.”

Alyssa is good because she’s fierce.

But this round, I don’t know if we’ll do it. We didn’t have a good go recording Round 1 because of that massive recording drama and there were also dramatic other things in my brain when I wanted to write a blog and talk about some of this stuff. I wanted to interact with my community and talk about some of the stuff that had been happening to me, but instead I ended up suspending my Facebook account.

It was a harrowing week for many reasons.

I say all of this because our character from Round One was kind of smacked around the head by the kind of relationship that leaves you in what I think of as the wounded 90s Alterna-Musician waif-mascara in the shower running down your face in your negligee sort of State. You can’t really hear sound waves around you and everything feels like bubble wrap. In a way, our song succeeded, because there were moments of Almost-Beauty stuck in between these WTF times. It might have been better as a companion to my ‘Verge of Tears,’ but way more extreme – like ‘Patient No. 7‘ but far sadder. I do that all the time, string the stories into character group-lets. So Round 1 and Round 2 could join this in sort of a Horrible Accident Suite. Who knows? I have cross-pollinated character stories across all my ensembles and solo work – I should make a mind map or something to keep it all organized.

Anyway, I think maybe 2.5 – 3 of the judges might have grokked us the last round. No matter. I think I expressed how I felt about the whole round just fine. I got over being embarrassed that computers don’t Do My Bidding. I consider myself awesome that I try to mount large scale productions when I could just as easily grab my iDevice and do a quick mix of the both of us or download some much easier editing tools. I’m trying to learn some heavy hitting software and really delving into some crazy midi editing and making the pianos and I’m trying to rebuild my tape machine now and there’s really no limit to the number of things I’ve got going on in this room. Not that I’m comparing to anyone/anything/anyCylon else, it’s just that I’m maximizing the opportunity and not going for the easy, lazy way out just because I know what I could do to make people like me. I’ve learned enough about these contests by now. I’ve been in them since 2009, 2010? Just to give myself a little thrill I entered a Songfight and I decided to get help on the mastering because I liked the song. I suck at mastering right now, so I figured that I’d do what I needed to do to let the song have breathing room and not shoot itself in the foot.

This is not to say I haven’t thrown myself into contests and been disappointed and not seen why things played out a certain way. I could write blogs and blogs about what happened during the Nur Ein Cold Comfort round. I probably will write about that particular bout of user error one day …… This Spintune, I am happy to report, was not user error.

Think of it. If I waited until the Contests Were Over to do upgrades to my computer, when would this happen?IMG_3694

Why do you think that none of my files are in order and I don’t have an album or a website?!?

I’ll NEVER be ready!

But I think of this little Waiting Song at least as kind of an answer to the first song that we did even though that song CLEARLY wasn’t ready. I pushed it through anyway. I don’t like to not hit the deadlines (<-what kind of GRAMMAR is this????!?!), particularly when other people are involved. But I/we weren’t able to get it across the way I wanted to. Alyssa’s first instincts about the melody were correct, and it was just a really long week waiting for me. But my goals for this contest are to get a Round 2 with more movement and push in it, and to re-do the Round 1 the way we want. This can happen anytime before the earth is destroyed really, as well as recording any other entries from the previous contest we did and when she guest-spotted on my first NurEin (including other sucky go’s we’ve had at any other songs we’ve done). I wanted to at LEAST re-record Round 1 to My Satisfaction by Monday Night’s listening party – and also get round 2 done. I had some other little things I wanted to do too. I’d told several people about a couple little Stupid Gems. I always strut big and don’t deliver, but I don’t care. People cope. Now I don’t even know if I’ll send in the little shadow I guess I did solo to amuse myself. It was really more to express myself and what we were doing and my recording and my feelings about these contests and etc. anyhow now I’m rambling trying to make a living and doing the best IIIIIII caaaaaannnnnnnn…

I really need to go to sleep. I actually heard that in the grocery store the other day. I’ve edited this entry several times.

Anyway … I think we’re on track. And if we’re not, we’re not on track in an on track type of way.

************************

*the photo is from a G+ post I made with a poem in it. I was feeling all macabre and the song I just wrote today did reminds me of that. It’s food coloring. I thought … perhaps this is upsetting for people or a provocative or violent image. But I’m going to leave it up because it beautiful and it is my blog. I live my life in a disclaimer-y fashion and I have to stop for a moment.

“of walking on the mines I laid …”

1. woke up on couch from a weird dream.
2. I was in a HUGE field full of tree stumps. They stretched out for eternity.
3. I was wearing a white dress and my new blue sneakers and my multicolored headband with the flowers. I had on my whole wedding ring but was wearing it on a ribbon around my neck. I kept checking to see if the other two pieces of it were there because I don’t wear them any more – just normally my engagement ring on my pointer finger. I had bug earrings like in the Wes Anderson movie Moonrise Kingdom (spoiler alert for links!).
4. I think I had blue in my hair.
5. I had an axe in my hand and I was chopping down a tree with it. It was the only tree left and it had glowing blue light in it.
6. The light around me was very yellow. Occasionally crows flew by.
7. Playing overhead, or in my head was that Sting song about building the city and the fortress (The video is so dated! What is he doing?! The song aged remarkably well).
8. I woke up really slowly but felt really *weird* and Off. Like there is a great deal of work to be done.
9. Without hesitation, I deleted about 80 documents I’ve had lying around, thinking I was going to use them.
10. I’ve also felt more solitary than usual lately. This is a bit worrying seeing as I’m a fairly lone-ish sort anyhow.

Maybe I spring clean in the fall.

I’m real happy there was a chill over the weekend. It was perfect.

Complications in Social Networking: Why I Beat It & Took a Little Breather

Photo on 2013-01-07 at 19.20 #21. I am friends with the Pope. Pals. Buds. Homiest of Homies. On…uh… the Sacred Spacebook 🙂 so, I’m his North Star, and he’s my Cardinal Effort (I’m not really, but that would be really pope-dope, and I grew up Catholic so I get to make jokes because I come from a long tradition of doing so and I can use the Church for object lessons. This is a Cautionary Metaphor. I humbly offer it here for the ben-a-dict-efit of all (#boo #aStretch).

2. Anyway, I posted this status update and the Bishop of Rome commented on it in a way that made me look a little Vroom-Vroom. Nothing I couldn’t banter back. Just a little zoomzy, you know, kinda a bit racy..? #nervouslaughter

3. but it just so happened that my friend David Beckham (not THE David Beckham…this is ANOTHER Mr. Beckham. I have not linked him because he’s very shy and he said I could use his name but not link his page) …wellll – Mr. Beckham “liked” the post. So I hoped that our dear Pontiff’s good natured and spicy fun using me as humor’s sacrificial lamb wouldn’t be taken amiss. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m a silly filly. Also notable was an additional “like” by Mr. Beckham’s friend Arthur Miller (not the playwright – he is no longer with us, but Mr. Miller the distiller is).

4. BTW, the post was something random concerning gardening, or life on the farm; like about Oats or something. No. Not my friend John. As an aside, I don’t talk about John anymore because we got into an argument about copyright infringement so I put Mr. Oats in one of my filtered groups (not Mr. Oates, he’s AWESOME!). Mr. Oats ALWAYS has an opinion and so do all his friends and frankly; I am CONSTANTLY getting sucked in and it’s a TOTAL time waster and before you know it, sure as donuts make your keyboard sticky, you’ve ka-spacebooked away your practice time.

5. Well, if you add all your Squa-squa-networks together, it just ka-escalates … so don’t go thinking that things are any better on The Google or Twitter or anything. It’s not. You have to show some restraint. Which brings me back to my story.

6. My friend Michael Jackson (no! not THE Mr. Jackson, although I know how it would be easy to be confused, because my friend has a warped sense of humor and posts profile photos of THE Michael Jackson and Inspirational Quotes about just looking at ‘…the man in the mirror’ before judging others. All that so that you can get your guard down and then he ruins it by posting some gross haiku like: do you wanna see, what I can do, baby girl… to your P.Y.T. ) – yeah … this friend got pretty bad himself in my post. His Holiness (or “Eggs 16,” as we call him during bowling) had already started the ball rolling and back and forth we went about me “sowing my wild oats” and then the ante was up when Mr. Jackson had to say something dirty about a plow and then all hell broke loose. I think friend pope made one more comment, and that was all good old MJ needed! Thank goodness no one made a dirty comment about Mr. Oats!

7. But see, I’ve been hoping that David Beckham would interact on my page for forever! So I was in panic about the post going in this snurly direction. I mean, I like saucy references to farm equipment as much as the next person – but you can’t go back and re-filter posts! Privacy Controls at the Sacred Spacebook are CRAP! I think it’s some kind of Advertising Related Conspiracy or something, although Mr. DJ Ranger Den (that’s my Old Man) thinks I have the paranoia. But I am sure you, oh Fair Fourth Wall, do get it about wishing your friends would be on Better Behavior and consider that like Mr. Miller the distiller seeing and liking your post because of Mr. Beckham’s news feed – you have a friendship with people like His Holiness as well. God can totally read your comments.

8. But on I go with Damage Control! I say “ha ha… I kinda shut the barn door on all THAT” or “we could argue about this till the brown-chicken-brown-cows come home” or something silly-yet-jokingly-validating to Lighten the Mood. It would have worked with Eggs, because he gets Family Values and would have reassessed my concern for the whole congregation of Postal Participants. Usually, I can trust MJ too. But something was off with him today and he kept going WAY over the line, taking the post in The Wrong Direction. And by then I was fearful that I was Offending People.

9. Example. I’ve been worrying for months about my great-great Aunt Berniecey Telulah McMegaphonezalo (not an actual aunt. She might know the pope though). I had concern that she and perhaps other members of my family would see some of my more unsavory friends posting Heavens-Knows-What on my page or making Unsavory or Controversial Comments. And I feel bad, like I am ashamed of my friends. How dare me!

10. In support of a dear friend of mine, Winslow, I liked the International Alliance of GLBTNinjas (this page blogged about here for Entertainment Porpoises only) page a couple months ago. I was afraid of Raised Newsfeed Eyebrows, but did it anyway – because we should be proud of our friends’ and support them when we can. But I feared conservative family would sanction me for my interest and support of “alternative” lifestyles – although I have to say, for the people living them, alternative to WHAT? Alternative to being yourself? But then there is the counter-fear of offending my friends with The offense of the Offended, therefore offending people who just want to see LOLcats and Gangnam Style (you know you wanna watch this again ……).

As well, if you tell people you’re into Ninjutsu, then are you, really, in fact, truly interested in Ninjutsu? Or are you just interested in it like hipsters are interested in the Zombie Apocalypse and flash mobs? Are you just jumping on a bandwagon to say, “hey I’m cool because I support THAT…”? Such things prey on my mind. But I know that even with a light sneeze, I am sure to offend someone merely by being ill and posting about it – as I am in this meta-metaphor being an attention seeking sneezer who is not sensitive to people with REAL illnesses and people may come to Question the Path I may take to the recovery of my common cold. And really, what makes MY cold more common than YOUR cold?

11. All of my friends, however, were included on my innocent post discussing farming. It was actually intended for the interest of David Beckham (again not the football star and I also meant Mr. Miller the distiller, not the playwright) and my ex-boyfriend’s old uncle who actually is an Amish farmer and ventures onto the internet sometimes (he isn’t an orthodox man, and who are you to judge what people do in their spare time??). But it felt weird to worry over what these two might think of the degenerating morality in Michael Jackson’s comments (how could I possibly “like” a person like MJ when he made such RUDE comments? What was wrong with me?!). AND to worry about a wide cross section of people varying from my ex’s Amish uncle (who I shouldn’t even be CONCERNED with, OMG! why am I even FRIENDS with an ex anyway???), to Auntie Telull-lie, to poor David Beckham, to a Mr. Oats who probably wouldn’t even see the post but if he heard about it would know I had friends of “Questionable Nature” AND that I was filtering him!

So I deactivated my account for the good of everyone and the good of Farming and the good of Family Values and Progress and indeed, America and also World Peace too – and the children and all things green and Lasting; and when I decided to creep back onto the Spacebook, I deleted the post Post-haste-ily even though I was upset about doing so because it started out with such an interesting cross-section of people liking and commenting Upon it … and at the beginning I was successful at bringing it out of Yucks-ville. I was proud of that. I haven’t posted again until recommending an album for a friend (that’s the truth!) and I live in fear that someone will ruin that for me (also true…)

But at least some of us are mutual friends with the Pope. My goal was that as diverse as is our audience, we “get” that just because we are engaging in microbloggery, we do not need to act like we are raised in barns. Which is rather funny because as you have probably gathered, you cannot trust that Human Nature will not escalate these problems even though you can Wholly See that some conversations are really meant for more Private Eyes.

Atropos Remembers Her Lover

all of a sudden
I saw my hands were old.

they’d aged three decades in as many months

i know how much a ferryman should cost.
(enough to know how much, he still expected…

lots)

a universe of starry skin cells
all interconnected
time stretched out like a stranger …

all of a sudden
my soul felt cold.

I’d forgotten that I had a soul.
They told me such was not
my right to stretch and hold

my hands lacked lines once, for a while
the body underneath them
honey over polished stone

time stopped!
…all a sudden
and it was as if your arms
were made of gold.

******************
ps. THIS is a good old entry and another fitting poem for now. 🙂

Two for the price of One Plus a Dollar…

These are the kitties of Randall, “Couch Kitty” and “Window Kitty” .. also known as Alex and Max.
These are the photos we took before they left. It’s been weird. I didn’t want to blog about them, because I don’t know how they are – but I haven’t been blogging a lot and yesterday I went out and read some of my writing to some people and there was mirth and fun and enjoyment and I realize how much I edit and hold back and am careful and it does me no good because bad things continue to happen anyway regardless of what I do. So I may as well just continue on as I am, writing as I like and trying my hardest to be the best that I can be. What can one do about such things? We are moving, and it’s a billiondy million degrees, and and I have been a worrier of Epic Porpoises since I was a podling. Everything will work out fine. I continue to stare suspiciously at the piano and wish things would pack up themselves and magically sort-out-in-all-easy-ways.
1. Pianoteq problem again while trying to save some old data. Well, my pianos have been saved. This is very important because they are like my babies and represent times and places in my development and they remind me of people and places and conversations and stuff I was going through. Sometimes I would just make a piano to FEEL better.

2. I am going to have a graham crackers shaped like tiny rabbits. Because I can.
3. I’m out at my Tuesday night writers group again. I’m proud of this, because this is something that I I’ve been doing that is consistent and that is special and tasty. I don’t know if “tasty” applies here; but we’re going to go with it.
4. Have you ever reached an impasse with a friend? Well, I have reached an impasse with this particular friend so many times that the restaurant that we used to meet at when we were younger with firmer complexions has turned into a hipster space station and moved down the road. I’d go in there, but I am afraid that the smell of TIGI and pretention would choke every shred of energy I have regained from me. Yes, every precious SHRED of energy that I have refound and will clutch to my bosom before my doctor has figured out that I have ripped myself off cholesterol medicine and thrust its evil presence from my wrecked body.
5. I’m a tad drama today. Expect more typing.
6. I think I’m slowly finding my fan base. I’ve been hunting them down. I have, of course, been saying this for years of beers, and the 6-8 people who have OPT-ed-ed-IN are tired of my megalomaniacal claims I am sure. They are people like me. But the regular channels of the Getting of the Attention … it doesn’t WORK that way. I can’t be all MERCHY with these people. I can’t jump up and down with pom-poms and clever hooks and drag them out to gigs and send them to my bandcamp.
7. My husband, who apparently although he has a job cannot be bothered to actually code or anything (#pokeymirthlystuff) has figured out that Vinny the Geriatric Kitteh is between 84 and 90ish years of age in human years. Before we dragged him back inside, he was having a vigorous, non-consensual “dating” life with Domina – who I am assuming is between 50 and 60. I am thinking that perhaps a crotchety (yes, I am aware that I have enjoyed typing that word before) .. old man cat could have been rather useful last night as Get-the-Hell-Off-My-Porching those Raccoons last night. More likely he would have just sat there allowing the powers that flea to take his love and take his land. Animals are jerks.
8. Anyway, about my fanz-with-a-Lolcat-inspired-“z” … they are people of the night. Unless they aren’t; and they feel more jaunty during the afternoon or for breakfast or elevenzees. Sometimes they are practical people who like to make crafty items with funny ears. Sometimes they aren’t weird for the sake of being weird. Actually, they never are. They’re just themselves. They just move around, heads cocked to the sides- funny half smiles at the ready. They don’t have the squinky look on their face that I imagine the majority of people make when they are reading my blog. Or perhaps I am giving myself too much credit and I think it is terribly Roman Tick to imagine myself velvet caped in my dungeon of delights playing my creepy basement organ.
9. that is not what she said.
10. I’ve missed blogging. I promise I will not get all creepy.
11. We are inDEED moving to a new location and it does not have a creepy basement for a creepy organ. There are probably about 3-4 basements in the whole city of Austin because of all the limestone. It’s really too bad because I bet it would be nice and cool and cavey down there.
12. OOOOO! I forgot all about CAVES!
12.5 -> I haven’t been myself lately. I’ve lacked confidence. I’ve need LOTS of reassurance. I USED to be like that, but I trained out of it. I think that this is because I got sick, and being sick is scary and hurty and vulnerable.

Well, no more! When you realize that you are in the bottom of a dank, dank, stinky hole then you have to look up and see the gleaming taco stand at the top and crawl back out. I have stuff to do. I’m not even going to link it. I’m not even going to BLOG RESPONSIBLY. You’ll all just have to wait because

HERE IS A DEN LIST:
A. I have either TWO or THREE songs to write. I’m hedging about the third because I am not sure if it is needed, wanted, or necessary. It’s become almost a philisophical connundrum at this point.

B. I SHOULD start with the song that I know I have, but for some reason doing the most difficult thing is what I crave, because if I can do it; that means that I have my stuff under control
C. There is not any more. For that is all.

hay-hay.

ps. sorry for mistigacakes. We have to go someplace and I don’t have the time to spell-chalk this up properliciously.