*No! I haven’t given the warning yet, Clicky…*
*It’s a bit late now. Poppy will be sobbing her heart out, Clicky…*
*Thank you, Clicky…*
*I dunno, Clicky… /furrows brow… I think the state of ‘science’ makes Leggy sad. Or angry. Possibly both…*
Sadness is a weird emotional state. It can house a host of emotions from a longing based in happiness and hope, to soul crushing despair based in hopelessness. This is just me, but I guess I see sadness and happiness both as types of blankets made with different needles and threads utilized differently to produce different weaves. A stupid analogy, I know. But at the same time, and depending on your geographic location, you likely have different linens on your bed in the summer than you do in the winter. Anyway, yeah, in my experience, sadness is like a lot of dissimilar things mixed together, whereas happiness is a little more singular-ish and straightforward.
I listened to this song a lot when I was a kid, but I always saw it more as a mystical kind of song. It wasn’t sad, it wasn’t happy, it was….it was…off the fucking charts weird as hell. Totally different from anything and everything you’d ever heard before, and seemed to cover the entire spectrum of any and every emotion a human is capable of feeling. Of course, then later came the movie “La Bamba”, they used this song in the movie, and the producer’s use of this song most decidedly gave the song a sad edge.
All three of my sad song selections come from my childhood. ‘Honey’ is the first that I thought of. Today is the first time I’ve heard it all the way through since then. I’m not really a sad song person, but I remember hearing this on the radio and starting to cry…
There used to be a song that depressed me when I listened to it, but I dunno if there are (currently, at least) any songs that make me sad. Listening to “sad songs” is more about relating to whomever wrote that tear-jerking something. You can relate, or you can’t. The song triggers an empathetic response, or it doesn’t. Maybe if nothing else a sigh of relief in thinking “boy, I’m sure as shit glad that happened to you and not me.”
“Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me” by The Cure has to be one of the best albums out there. If you listen to it from end to end, you’ll be emotionally exhausted by the time the last track finishes. I dunno if I’d classify any of The Cure’s music as “sad”, but they certainly make some music that someone who is sad can relate to. And like all great artists, they usually don’t heave their own personal sadness on top of you the listener. They add some hooks to produce an aspect change in the trajectory of the sadness.
If it wasn’t Bobby Goldboro’s ‘Honey’ on the radio, making a small girl cry, it was Terry Jack’s ‘Seasons in the Sun’. Radio Breakfast Show DJs in the 70s were utter bastards…
Ya know, I’m gonna get to my third choice in just a minute, but before I do, I just recalled bumping into a song not long ago that most decidedly reconnected me with the emotion known as sadness. This song is most decidedly a sad-sounding one. But like most sad songs, its one that is on the upswing. You’ve encountered the sadness, been able to express that sadness in song, the skies are clearing, better days are ahead. But the audio of this recording itself adds some sadness to the tune. The song is already soft, very light with almost all picking with no chords, the accompaniment is almost indiscernible, so the song itself is thin as hell. Add that the recording is ancient, the rip is from 45 rpm vinyl, take into consideration the source (Hawaii) and the time (statehood), and you’ve got a recipe for sad.
Final note is that I did some digging to see if I could find out when this song was actually recorded. The recording sounds more like something done in the 1920’s or 1930’s on 78 rpm vinyl…not something done in the late 1950’s or early 1960’s on 45. So, who the fuck is Tommy Solomon? I don’t think this is him, but that is certainly an interesting find considering the connection to Pacific Islanders. This does not appear to be the Tommy Solomon I’m looking for either, although that’s an interesting find considering that a version of Jimi Hendrix’s ‘Third Stone From The Sun‘ by Stevie Ray Vaughan did appear on my radar only recently.
Alas, I cannot find anything on Tommy Solomon, but I did find that the second guitarist on Old Timer’s Hula appears to be someone named James “Jimmy” Moikeha. That’s gotten me no closer to the Tommy I’m looking for tho. Maybe the Tommy I’m looking for also had a ‘native’ name, and he only went by this anglicised handle just this one time.
/me shrugs
Le sigh…this is making me sad.
Back on Day 8 of this song challenge, ‘Drink & Drugs!‘, I mentioned playing records on a portable wind up record player in my bedroom when I couldn’t sleep as a child (I never slept; I drove my parents potty). There were two songs by Harry Nilsson in the little stack of 45s – ‘Coconut’ and this song. This is a sad song and I loved singing along to it…
*Painfully sad, Clicky…*
This song in no way makes me sad. In fact, prolly nothing sad about this song at all. I simply thought of it because of the title of the track…sadeness I don’t think anything by Enigma is really sad, but his/their music sure as shit dances around the naughty ends of the musical scales. Lots of implied darkness and sadness, without being either dark or sad. Weird, eh?
Anyway, I think there were originally three or more different parts to this song, like…Sadeness (I), Sadeness (II), Sadeness (III), etc.. Pretty sure the one below is Sadeness parts I & II back to back.
*Yeah, ‘Honey’ got me too, Clicky…*
Experiment (n.)
mid-14c., “action of observing or testing; an observation, test, or trial;” also “piece of evidence or empirical proof; feat of magic or sorcery,” from Old French esperment“practical knowledge, cunning; enchantment, magic spell; trial, proof, example; lesson, sign, indication,” from Latin experimentum “a trial, test, proof, experiment,” noun of action from experiri“to try, test,” from ex-“out of” (see ex-) + peritus“experienced, tested,” from PIE *per-yo-, suffixed form of root *per- (3) “to try, risk.”
I think I just started liking Twitter a lot less just now.
It’s prolly more a case of I liking myself less.
That said, we live and learn, I guess.
//me\\ \\shrugs//
Anyway…so um…it’s Friday. It’s 13:20. I was gonna go get me something to eat, but my stomach just shrunk to the size of a walnut or smaller, so I’ll get to the important stuff.
*What? What did you spot, Clicky? …/squints… Mercury Transporter…MerC… /:O… 137 and Shewanella?… /wrinkles nose… Eww…*
I had an idea. I had a thought. Started writing. Got sidetracked.
Idea = Gone
Maybe it’ll come back. Let’s keep writing, and see if it does.
UPDATE: I remembered <golf clap>
Just wrote two more sections, and as I was editing/formatting the above, I remembered.
If someone spent, the better part of their life, not being able to talk to others…and then suddenly, they were able to talk to others… I wonder what that would feel like, when and if that same someone was suddenly not able to talk to others again. Would it be the same pain as before? Or would it be a new and different pain.
We are supposedly supposed to learn from others. Some employ the kick, some employ the pet. Some may even employ both, depending on present circumstance. Where is my heart? Like…right now…where is my heart? It was in all kinds of places just a few minutes ago. But something happened to change that. So, again I ask myself…
where is my heart?
Welp…it sure the fuck wasn’t in “fear mode” prior to, and it sure the fuck doesn’t feel like “fear mode” now, so I cannot but wonder where my heart is. I don’t feel like retreating, and I don’t feel like advancing, so what is this feeling that I feel?
FON - Freak Of Nature
That’s the best I got. Don’t run to, don’t run away. Curl up, and take it. It’ll be over at some point. When the storm passes, pick myself up, and move on. No need to calculate…no need to tally…no need for facts nor figures…no need for revenge nor justice nor anything else…just, move on. I’ll know when I know, or I won’t. Either way, I’ll know.
FON <> Fawn
Just thought I should prolly point that out to anyone who might decide to look up the “Fight or Flight” concept. There has been an addition of sorts to “fight or flight response” types of research, and that is the addition of “fawn” to describe those who hunker down and take the beating instead of trying to fight or flee.
That does not apply to “FON”. FON is a knowing that you will survive the beating, and in fact, you are supposed to survive the beating. We’re on dangerous ground here.
The IllumiBowl toilet night light helps you find relief after dark.
Illuminati = confirmed.
They are watching you pee and poo. Anal probes are prolly next logical step. Might wanna think about potential “upgrades” for this glow shitter before buying one. Suddenly…”automatic updates” just lost ALL appeal đ
I digest. I mean...digress.
I’ve always wondered what happens when I take a shit in the dark. I’ve also wondered what happens when I take a shit in the restroom of a discotheque and/or when I’m tripping balls on some psychedelic drug. It would appear that all of those questions can now be answered, and can be answered in the safety and convenience of my own home.
Not that I have a home, nor that I will be getting one of these new “glow shitters” when and if I do someday get a home of my own. But I can sleep well tonight in the knowledge that these things now exist in the event I do get a home someday. PLUS…I can rest well knowing, that someone…somewhere…out there…is shitting on a glowy toilet with a built in laser light show, that also kills the fuck out of bacteria.
Not to mention that, as the article points out, “the dark” of your own home, and you wandering through it “can be genuinely dangerous”. I guess light switches have grown far too complex or difficult to operate. Then there’s the communal nature of light switches: no telling who has been touching that light switch; they may not be as thorough and thoughtful as you are about washing their hands after touching your filthy bits all over while peeing and pooping. So why touch a filthy disease infested light switch if you don’t need to? People are diseased and filthy.
What a world.
K…so, I remembered where I was going with this bullshit. So the question now becomes…do I:
A) keep writing here, or
B) turn this into a missive and send it to Roob?
A: We'll see.
Time Now = 14:07. Date Now = Friday January 19th, 2018.
Lemme start this line of bullshit by giving a shade of insight as to how I see/interpret a lot of this crap transpiring “in the world”.
Simple = A War Of The Sexes
Yep, not a battle…this is full on, balls-to-the-wall…war.
Complex = The Internet
Things just got REALLY fucking simple.
Woah woah WOAH dude!!! You just listed “complex”, and are implying that the complex/complexity made everything simple?
Yep. The Internet = 100% male.
You cannot dispute the above. It is fact. Designed in totality, and occupied by, males. Males and only males. There are no women/females on The Internet, and this is well known. If you don’t already know this, you are a fucking idiot and a moron, and should get the fuck off The Internet immediately, if not sooner.
Now that we are aware of “The Internet” being populated by just and only men/males, we can now further qualify and quantify what type(s) of men/males are occupying “The Web”.
Men are pigs.
Why would someone need to be equipped to take a beating? Don’t we need to determine motivation(s)? Establish right and wrong? Guilt and justice?
A1: ?Âż?
A2: Âż?Âż
If you choose to do so, there’s lots to think about there. And I’m not sure about you, but I’ve seen and experienced some crazy shit in my life. I’ve seen people get the fuck kicked out of them just because they were there. No rhyme, no reason…they were there, and that was the only mistake they made.
Now, you’ve prolly already jumped to both the “before” and “after” parts. But does that matter in the moment? Someone is standing on the street, and some other someone wanders by, and proceeds to kick the fuck out of the other, because they can.
Now that you are questioning these events…may I point something out to you?
A: Yeah...YOU!!!
Why are you involved all of a sudden, and who is it that you’ve got a mind to start beating up on? Not such an easy question to answer…is it? Because now, you are equally culpable. I hope you make the right decision(s).
Good luck.
Can you imagine what God had to go through, in inventing humans, by getting their bodies to functioning well enough to take a shit? When you think about that, then follow the digestive tract backwards, and consider all that God had to do to get humans and their bodies functioning well enough to eat…Man, what a ride, eh?
Lots of things to consider there.
I mean, prolly a reason or two for eating and shitting in the first place…right? Now…when you start to consider how much life is on this planet…Woah, that’s a lot of building. Prolly took some time. Prolly took a fuckton of time. Are we on the same page? Or have you already decided that, not only are we on the same page, but we are reading from the same book? I wonder what book it could possibly be?
Erm...The Bible?
OF COURSE!!! WHAT OTHER BOOK COULD IT POSSIBLY BE?!?!?!?
Damn. You are one narrow-minded motherfuckerÂ
Lets see if we can pick up some messages that might be coming via alternate pathways.
Isn’t Mercury, the element, kinda…prevalent in our modern world? Like…prevalent in ways that we may not like. Welp, you like your gold…right? If so, that means you like Mercury too. It also means you like Cyanide. The more you like Gold, the more you like Mercury and Cyanide. Not to mention your romance with explosives. Oh, and mining. Not to mention shipping and transportation services. And not forgetting the jewelry industry/industries.
Am I piling it on too thick?
Or is it becoming more clear just how connected and interconnected everything is?
Does everyone get their say? Andy Warhol sure seemed to have an opinion on the matter.
Did you know that The Campbell’s Soup company now owns a Texas-born staple?
What is significant about this fact, is that The Campbell’s Soup Company is based in New Jersey. Pace Picante sauce is as readily found in Texas pantries, as Mayonnaise is found in Holland, Denmark and England. And thanks to the movie Pulp Fiction, we all know what those idiots do with mayonnaise.
BLOOPS!!! Holland, Denmark, and England are nowhere to be found on that list. Must be a statistical error. Or urban legend. Whatever the case, it’s sure to be human error.
*Yes, Clicky, what now? …/listens…*
*A second part? …/grins… Doo you mean a ‘number two’? …/rolls eyes… Okay. You go tell Cade what we’re gonna do, Clicky…*
*/hollers… OH! AND DON’T FORGET TO BRING THE LINK TO CADE’S POST BACK YOU… /sigh… Must of needed to go or sumfing…*
*Don’t be jealous, Clicky… Just because Cade didn’t mention you…*
Maybe it’s time for us to try and write one together. Maybe a back and forth kind of  “I write a paragraph…She writes a paragraph” and so on. I can see some other avenues within that framework that might work well as well. But maybe that’s not a good idea. I dunno. Just…thinkin out loud.
We’ll see I guess.
*/cackles… So jealous… /shakes head…*
ePING----->>>>>---->>>>--->>>-->>-> ==============================
Raed Ris dna/ro Mabam,
Sometimes, this backward shit just don’t work eh? So you gotta improvise or some shit like that.
(Sorry about the foul fucking language)
Anyway…so…
Hey Roob!
Q: Ya up for this “concept?”
A: (your answer goes there) hehe
Take your time. It is afterall…your time.
I typically read in a “looping” kind of fashion. Up and down and around, at the same time as side-to-side, both backwards AND forwards. As a result, it caused me to develop a “less-physically/less-medically discernible” type of speech impediment that caused me to transpose letters. I could read just fine in my head. But when I actually spoke what I read, I tended to mix up the letters.
EX1: “The Dog”…would become…”Dee Thog.”
EX2: “The Wide World of Sports”…would become…”We Wibe Swirled Aborts”…(usually, I was trying to avoid spitting with both the “S” the “P” and again with the “S”, which the “W’s” seem to have had pooled a massive collection of within my mouth).
This was/is in addition to several other “more discernible” speech impediments that were said to be the result of both unfortunate genetics and unfortunate “more preventable” types of events. Accidents…I believe they are sometimes called in more polite circles and/or settings.
“Being a complete and total walk-disaster of a fuckup” in more “real-world” types of situations.
But I digress.
Injuries to the head, neck, face, tongue, and jaw…are… …traumatic.
Being encouraged to not speak at all…also has some lasting effects.
Such as, for example…not speaking at all.
The perfect imperfection.
But I further digress…all kinds of things that can “inspire us” to stop communicating.
As a matter of fact…I think it’s about time for recess.
Wanna play? đ
(Strictly platonic off course.)
/sorry couldn’t resist…DOH!!!
I think I might be able to think of some others who may benefit from such an endeavor. Maybe you can as well.
But I leave that decision, from here, up to you. I certainly do not wish this to cause harm in any way. And there is no pressure. If this sounds like the worst shitty idea you’ve ever heard of…feel free to keep that to yourself. “No fucking way you fucking Okie idiot!”…works just fine.
Thanks For You Consideration.
â€
-cade
============================== <-<<--<<<---<<<<----<<<<<-----PONG PING----->>>>>---->>>>--->>>-->>-> ==============================
A: I used to sound like I’d had a drink when pronouncing my maiden name. I woz okay if I woz torking natchrole-like… ‘Roof Shoewan’… But if I was trying to sound educated or posh-like, the ‘th’ at the end of my first name would rear end the ‘Sh’ at the start of my second, like a DUI on black ice. Hot blood flowed, but only into my cheeks.
My son, Kitten, has/had verbal dyspraxia. He had a limited vocabulary until age 5, mostly consisting of âMmâ, âDaâ, âLoobyâ, âyeahâ, ânoâ, âcatâ and âgoneâ. We didn’t even have cat, it was the neighbour’s pristine white moggy, Lara. She would jump up onto the garden fence whilst I nattered over it with next door, toddler in arms, and he would point and say âCat!â, and when she jumped down, Kitten would exclaim, âCat gone!â
Five years of speech therapy once a week with a willowy blond called Kendall (‘Mintcake’) developed his speech through repetitious play. But learning to write and spell were a nightmare; whilst Thoughtful Man took charge of Kitten’s 2wing and frowing from school to therapy room and back again, I was in charge of his homework and he did not like writing, not one little bit. At that time there was a Saturday evening TV show on called ‘Merlin’ which Kitten adored. Ah ha! I thought. If he could see words as ‘spells’, maybe he would see letters and combos of as ingredients. It did absolutely nothing for him but it sure as hell changed my perception of words.
What did work for him was me teaching him the NATO phonetic alphabet…
For some reason, he got that and, what with all the hard work his teachers put in (who he naturally charmed), he’s no longer afraid or using words, spoken or written. In fact, sometimes he never shuts up đ
Is this the kind of thing you’re after Okie Devil? Btw, I did change a misspelling in your starter twice. Naughty of me as I have porpoisely misspelt words in my reply. Sorry, habit… But, as I’m sending it back to you, you can change it back if you wanna.
What kind of ‘accidents’ to your head, neck, face, tongue, and jaw?
â€
Roob – x
============================== <-<<--<<<---<<<<----<<<<<-----PONG ============================== PING----->>>>>---->>>>--->>>-->>-> ==============================
Um…I’ve tried to talk about some of my injuries and unfortunate experiences and whatnot over at whatchacallit forums. I mentioned what most would prolly consider “the worst of the lot”…but not to me. I don’t remember much of that one.
I’d like to talk about my experiences…but I’m still not ready for some/most of them. If people think that the “sensationalist and unbelievable” worst of the worst of the worst is impossible…then how in the HELL are they gonna believe what I somehow survived…only to encounter even worse over a string of many events over years? Because I’m telling you…it gets worse.
The only reason I’ve poked my head up is that I know there are others that need to hear what I have to say, so that they do not feel so alone in their..”How did I survive that?” and “Why did I survive that?” moments that can and do come.
Just keep in mind that the only reason that I am talking about them at ALL…is because I am alone. Prolly someday…even my own children may need to hear these stories to help them understand why “dad was so fucking weird about anything and everything.” The short of that being…I tried to neither encourage nor discourage them from “jumping off of cliffs”…just assured them that if they DID jump and things went wrong?…I’d be there to catch them on the flip side. Have always tried to let them be their own person, but also always be there to guide them and advise them. And yeah…sometime…just…give them a little nudge maybe. đ
Lotta scars on me that you can see, many that you cannot see. I just wanted to spare my children the bad ones, and allow them the choice of experiencing the good ones.
Roller skating on ice…for example. Meh…not too bad.
Roller skating on ice with rocket-powered roller skates?
I’ve talked about some of my “bad stuff” tho.
Some car wrecks and stuff like that. Maybe some of that “abuse” type stuff of the physical and mental varieties that is usually best not spoken of. The kind of shit that makes a kid run off and join the circus or a carnival if one is conveniently located in proximity to where the kid can get to without someone finding him…again…and again…and again…no matter how far he makes it from…where he’s trying to get away from.
BTW, my spelling errors? Correct away. God know I won’t catch them all. You’re the one gonna be posting this shit. Your honor as an English speeking Limay is aatt stakes here young lady. đ
I’ve already defeated one Limey this week in a spelling contest.
Do you really wanna be next? (lol)
Losing a spelling contest to an Okie from Texas?
Oh…Bullocks!!!
============================== <-<<--<<<---<<<<----<<<<<-----PONG ============================== PING----->>>>>---->>>>--->>>-->>-> ==============================
Just seen that MEROVEEÂ Frank has posted this to BennyJurger…
You can always tell about some of the wonderful things you’ve experienced and weave in the painful stuff. Or like how Quint dropped the USS Indianapolis in Jaws. Very powerful and moving. Rocket-powered roller skating on ice, on the other hand, sounds like a unusual and exhilarating thing to try. Right up and until the moment it, well, isn’t. I have neither roller skated not attached rockets to anything, including sharks. I dunno, the idea just never occurred.
Perhaps we’re opposites. For instance, I’ve suffered no physical abuse and/or accident trauma. Only two hospital stays so far (well, three if you count being born in one): I had my tonsils removed at age 18. It was in a private hospital called ‘The Churchill’, located close to the Imperial War Museum in London. There is a song I associate with that hospital stay and it is attached to a bad memory of bad breath…
The other hospital stay was for the Boys’ birth. It was toward the end of the furiously hot August in 2001. Eighteen hours of labour and I end up having to have a C Section because Loopy shifted just before my fanny reached the required 10cm in diameter. I actually watched them being, not so much born as yanked out of me. I could see it all in the shiny ceiling tiles of the theatre. Loops had got his nose caught on something and wouldn’t budge. The profusely sweating surgeon even put his leg up on the surgery table to get better leverage. Loopy sported a big bruise on the side of his nose for his week in the world. But then again Kitten was born with a wonky toe. Erm… I’m now wondering for the first time if those two things weren’t related.
I may have broken a finger on a bumpy RIB ride across the Solent a few years ago. It was painful for months afterward but I never got it seen to, so probably not. Which means I’ve managed to get through just over 49 years so far without a broken bone. And you’ve had loads. Perhaps you took my share, in which case… Thank you â€
Oh, the big news story the weekend of the Boys’ arrival… Posh Spice performed at a concert at Hyde Park wearing a lip ring! The scandal! When it was revealed to be a fake one, the UK MSM got a collective attack of the vapours all over again. Our UK press can be very parochial sometimes. The Song, however, that will always remind me of that weekend is by U2…
Hmm… three Songs included this time whereas you’ve being rather restrained. Strange đ
============================== <-<<--<<<---<<<<----<<<<<-----PONG ==============================
*/furrows brow… ‘The Invisibles‘ Lennon Head, Clicky?*
*/:D I think that calls for a Song, Clicky…*
*Clicky, no! Porriño isn’t Spanglish for ‘it’s pissing down’… besides, it sounds much more Italian… But that’s not the point. It’s uncalled for, Clicky, people died…*
*Well, Red Frank did thank everyone for who’d triggered an idea in him and he’s into Franglish… perhaps you were already in that frame of mind, Blue Frank‘s been musing on language…*
*That’s a bike with stabilizers, not a trike… Hang on, is that woman smoking near her child? Fuck! The Shining could be banned… /nibbles  nail… They won’t be happy until they’ve turned us all into not-sees…*Â
*Ah… Apollo rose… Rose, the colour of O Porriño’s famous granite…*
*Whoa! Way to derail a train of thought, Clicky… Or did you? /breathes in deeply… I’m gonna have to go and have a think about this. Give Dear Reader a Song… /wanders off muttering…*
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