Tuesdays With Abhorrent Fiends vol. 37

[convention in town] 6-9-08

oh, if I were a pickpocket
I'd love to work this crowd
they're innocent and indolent
from out of town and loud
take cash and credit cards
and brown bag lunches - I'm not proud
oh, if I were a pickpocket
I'd love to work this crowd

oh, if I were a murderer
I couldn't stand the smell
cologne and sweat and confidence
that I'm bound straight to hell
with every pair of eyes I see
I wonder, can they tell
oh, if I were a murderer
I couldn't stand the smell

oh, if I were a rapist
then these dames would turn me on
their hair and clothes and faces
all just look spray-painted on
they take a half-step back
and look relieved when I am gone
oh, if I were a rapist
then these dames would turn me on

but I work right across the street
where all these people come to eat
it makes the business bittersweet
I punched out - I'm already beat
I've got to fight my way through them
to get back home again.


*****

I'll be crossposting this little songy thing on my new "official" blog. Maybe add relatives to blogroll later.

This song is a blues tune that I have written many, many times. At least once every six months I get a blues song--often comic or satiric, as this one is--with the same freakin tune and chord sequence. Don't always keep them or write them down, since I feel it's downright embarrassing to write the same song over and over. I try very hard to be innovative. Though I make this harder for myself by not practicing guitar and not learning to play other people's songs on it. Such would expand my musical horizons, fo sho!

I now have verses one and two of [don't forget]; there are going to be four. The first quatrain, posted below, will fit onto the fourth verse. As far as playing it on the guitar, I have yet to attempt even the chord sequence. One problem with composing on the fly (ie, not with an instrument to hand) is that if you're not all that great at your instrument, the background music in your mind tends to wobble and shift as you try to pin it down to the few chords or notes you know well.

Phone-conversating was weird last night. I called up Amber, and ended up talking to both my sisters and Mom as they passed the phone around the room. Only took twenty minutes, and it was nice to catch up, but it felt weird. I want time alone with my two sisters, dangit. It always seems like either there's only two of us or other people *coughcoughMom!cough* decide to tag along and bust up the three-headed-hydra effect. Now, Dave finds the three-headed-hydra freaky and prefers not to participate and let us do our thing, which I suppose is quite reasonable. For Mom it's a rush, I think, to see her three daughters get all animated and talky. Dad was also always happy to see us gabbling sororially. But even parental pride takes on a different shape in different people, and I don't wanna talk about that right now.

The hell do I wanna talk about?

I wish we had a big, shiny masterplan, a series of steps we could all follow that would lead to comfortable wealth levels and respectable positions in whatever communities we chose to join. But instead it's like every magic is. You can only see the next step, and have a dim awareness of the step after next. Sometimes the serendipity bird poops in your brain or on your timeline, and what you thought was the next step turns into something completely different and sweet. All I can do in the present is figure out what I need, what I've got to work with, what my duty is regarding those in whom I've chosen to invest my loyalty, and see if it all matches up. Plus try to consider ahead a little bit and see what avenues of possibility I open up with every action.

This, today, is one of those mornings where I will not be entirely human until after I've had my coffee. And unlike yesterday I will be a good girl and not hop up to the kitchen every ten minutes to see if it's made yet. These are our busiest days of the year and the cooks each have an elephant's diaper of crap to shovel to prep for lunch. Once again I find myself thanking dog and my past career path choices that I'm not a server or busser right now. Yes, they make good tips, but they earn them in spades. With the convention in town the front of the house turns huge numbers of tables, many with large parties who are from out of town, don't know each other well, and definitely don't know what they want to order. *shudder* I've become known here as a patient and (to my astonishment!) laconic person, but it would mess with me emotionally to have to be patient with customers while standing up for hours at a time.

Had a slight headache last night, I think from too much staring at screens. It went away for awhile before sleeptime, but then came back when I woke up this morning. Curses. I took an aspirin this morning along with my regular vitamin (alas, we ate the last of the excellent gummy vitamins yesterday). But even though the headache has faded again I'm sluggish and grouchy because of it. Ach, I've circled back to the needing coffee whine. That's it, I'm'a go read webcomics. Or, y'know, do real work.