Monday, April 28, 2008
Now that I’m (mostly) over the trauma of the Alouette song, I have a new song in my head to worry about. It happens that if it is sunny out, and I’m in the shower, the “song of the day” will pop right into my head as I’m standing there. Today, it was the Do-Re-Mi song from the musical, The Sound of Music. According to what’s posted on Wikipedia, I had the lyrics slightly wrong, but I was darn close. Here are the “official?” lyrics:
Do "a deer, a female deer."
Re "a drop of golden sun."
Mi "a name I call myself."
Fa "a long long way to run".
So "a needle pulling thread."
La "a note to follow So."
Ti "a drink with jam and bread."
And that brings us back to Do......
So, why the Do Re Mi song?
But possibly it had something to do with my husband jumping out of bed in the morning, and me asking him if he was headed to the bathroom.
He indicated affirmative, and so I laid there waiting for my turn. And some time later, after he was dressed and I was still waiting, I asked him if he was in fact ever headed there.
He said “no”.
I said, “but you told me you were going to just now!”
He said, “oh, that. Well, I couldn’t hear you since I had my ear plugs in, so I just agreed to whatever you said.”
Well! So I asked him, “what if I’d said I was going to invade Poland after breakfast? You would have agreed?” Sure enough!
Now that Poland is safe, it is okay to note that the musical was based on the 1956 German film about the von Trapp family called Die Trapp-Familie. The musical didn’t exactly conform to the real life experiences of the family, but that’s artistic license for you.
Or maybe it had something to do with Ale-Fest, which consisted of drinking as much Imperial Stout as possible, while in a Fest Halle in the neo-Bavarian village of Leavenworth, WA this weekend.
Who knows for sure?
I’ll let you know if I meet any singing Germans.
Monday, April 21, 2008
What about Christian Slater?
Is Christian Slater a bird? No, he’s not. And he wasn’t in an automobile accident either. Still alive and kicking. No trace of the pigeon though.
But I did find out one thing about him that is a connection with moi. Namely, he is a huge Star Trek fan. Now, I am a girl who has actually been to a Star Trek convention! Has all the movies, and has the entire TOS (that’s the original series for you non-trekkies) series on DVD. Since I did not, do not, and likely never will have cable, I also painstakingly rented every single Enterprise episode from the local Hastings and watched every one, just to get caught up. I also watched Andromeda, which was supposed to be a Roddenberry idea, as was Earth Final Conflict, I have heard. I thought Andromeda was good, before it devolved into a body-count show, and then ventured into plot twists more impossible than any you would find on All My Children. Anyway, I am a serious SciFi fan, so hats off to Christian Slater.
To add to that, I watched the Harry Potter film on television called Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and it has a very large bird in it that they fly away on at the end. It is called a hippogriff -- a wild, flying animal that is a cross between a horse and an eagle. (I sure wouldn't want to pluck it!)
Mysteries abound.......and I found myself singing that song again as I was getting ready for work today. Hmmm.....Maybe I should get a parrot?
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Who’s plucking who?
So, I’m folding clothes the other day and I’m standing in the bedroom thinking about a movie I recently saw. It was the Lake House with Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves. Some dopey love story set against a time-travel backdrop that is highly unlikely. Anyway, I’m thinking about how Sandra Bullock has sort of become this one trick pony of an actress, sort of like a female Robin Williams or another Meg Ryan. She always plays this same character that is sort of lovable and not very frustrating. (Not like real women are ever frustrating!) And I got to thinking how it would be nice if I were to write a screenplay that forced Sandra Bullock to act like an absolute witch. A very uptight, very abrasive woman. Then, I thought, “well, who would co-star with her in that?” Christian Slater immediately popped into my head (not literally), for some reason. (Now, what kind of film would this be exactly? That was thankfully never fully explored within my consciousness). Hmmm.. Christian Slater would be kind of hot, yes. That will work. I thought to myself.
So then for some reason I was thinking about the end of the film, the wrap-up of making the movie, and everybody saying their goodbyes (things move quickly when your hands are busy folding laundry I guess), and I started singing a French song called Alouette from (literally) out of nowhere. Why on earth I do not know. I don’t even speak French. I must have learned it in grade school, in one of those sing along music classes aimed at the dumbest kid among you. (Ta ta tee-tee ta, big round whole note…!.). The next day, I tell my husband about this song, and he looks it up on Wikipedia. Turns out the song is about plucking a small bird that is going to be eaten. (Ewww!) That’s enough to put a semi-vegetarian (in other words, don’t make me eat things with the bones still attached!) off her entire meal! The song goes something like this:
Nice little birdie
Little birdie I’m going to pluck you
I’m going to pluck your head
I’m going to pluck your head
And your head
And your head
Nice little birdie
Little birdie I’m going to pluck you
I’m going to pluck your beak
…..And so on with the neck, and the wings and the feet, etc.
The small sad joy of being taught the grossest of songs in child hood rears its ugly head once again. (Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!) And who could forget the ever popular, “Ring around the Rosie”? Yikes. Maybe we should have sung about cannibals and nuclear weapons? That would have been a damn sight brighter. At any rate….this little ditty with a little birdie being plucked suddenly came to my mind while folding laundry – why ????
Maybe, you say, I heard the song in the background at the grocery store.
Or, maybe I saw it on television in a commercial.
Or, maybe Christian Slater reminds me of plucking a bird.
Or, maybe Sandra Bullock will get one of those secretary bird haircuts when she’s an old woman and with her hair all sticky-uppy will continue to act in those sappy love stories till her gums fall out. (Which reminds me of a Muddy Waters song, you know the one).
Or maybe it was some kind of spastic brain precognition…..
Yesterday, (it was Saturday, in April and SNOWING by the way), on the way home from the grocery store, where there was no French singing and no Sandra Bullock movies perused or even glanced at, when I saw a bird get hit by a car in the lane next to me by some SUV driving schmuck. Or perhaps just an SUV driver - who was largely unaware of the entire universe around them – but still a tolerably nice person? Who can really tell anything these days from the car a person drives except how much they can stomach paying at the pump for a fill up? But I digress….
Yes, it was April 19th, 2008, and the cherry blossoms and apple blossoms and apricot blossoms were out, and it was about 35 degrees and snowing/raining/sleeting in this land of global warming. (What’s that you say Mr. Gimpster? No such thing as global warming? Well I’ll see you in the bread lines…). And I think, maybe, that the pigeon was just stunned by the cold or the rain. Actually I had an idea that it had been stunned on the head by a cold rain drop, but that’s not likely true, is it? It was a lovely brownish color, kind of a caramel – a very rare color of pigeon, all in all – and for some reason it was just sitting there in the middle of the left hand lane by the brick apartments on Mission St. Normally, pigeons are moving, pecking, running, or flying, but this one was just stone cold still in some type of deep meditation or other. Facts and reasons for this behavior remain totally unknown. “Fascinating” as Spock would say. Or, “not enough data to reach a conclusion, Jim”. (Not enough data my ass! When has any of us EVER had enough data to reach a conclusion in our lives? Pu-lease!) But I digress…..
So the light changes, and the bird doesn’t move an inch, and when I look in my rearview mirror the bird is lying on the ground and it’s lovely white and caramel colored wings are flapping horribly and hopelessly, and I feel kind of awful watching it. I’m left wondering, why am I the only one who sees this happening? Why am I the only one that sees this sad event? Obviously the bird got struck in the head by the car and now wasn’t feeling all together well, but cars just kept right on driving past it. (Keep going. Don’t waste that gas!) In an hour the poor little bird will be lunch. (Time to pluck it!) But what to do? Drive back and bury it? Pick it up and ……sing a little song to it??? Cry about it? (Don’t want to be accused of being hormonal after all! That’s worse than being accused of being frustrating, as Sandra Bullock will attest. Shut up you stupid bitch!) Well, shit! What does one do with a situation where there is nothing to do that will be helpful? And why do there always seem to be so many of them? Why do I feel like they are aimed at me? They aren’t “ribbed for my protection”, but I do feel like I am getting the shaft here, with no possible explanation given as to why. But really, what reason could there be that would be suitable for these cases?
As Laurie Anderson says: Why these mountains? Why this sky? This long road? This empty train?
Is it some sort of Buddhist test? “Hey lady, here’s little reminder for you that death is all around you. Hope you enjoy it. This Bud’s for you.” Gee, thanks. I could have just gone back to kindergarten and learned another freaking song instead! Or was my subconscious trying to warn me about this event when it brought up the song that I didn’t even know the meaning of a few days ago? Psst. Psst. Nice to have such a precise subconscious. Really makes a difference in my life you know.
Why these mountains?
Why this sky?
This long road?
This empty train?
And the awful thing is that maybe it doesn’t matter at all. Maybe I’m just supposed to shut up and take it like a girl! Just toughen up honey. It’s okay. Go on eating all that cheap candy and showering in hot water and driving to and fro without restrictions. Don’t worry at all about the run-over pigeons or the brown people being blown to bits around the globe with your tax dollars. Don’t worry honey. The train is full. It’s the gravy train, and it’s pulling into port right now. Hop aboard! Choo choo! Keep driving, keep going, keep denying, keep wondering why. Why?
It would be nice to know why, but I don’t think it’s a question I can answer today or tomorrow or next week.
But it does kind of piss me off a little. If I was writing a screen play for Sandra Bullock, I’d make her a real bitch. I’d put some teeth in her head. I’d make her find me some answers, and fast.