a song

Last night, I had the pleasure in watching David Funderburk, Lynn Holcombe (Clyde vs. Crocodiles) and Noel Thrasher play music. They’re all great and I was equally enamored with all of them… especially their interactive tunes. Anyhow, I wanted to further stress and propel my proposed idea I’ve grasped in creating a selfless blog (where I don’t talk about me but promote others). Not that I succeed in that goal because a blog is inherently all about the writer’s ideas, work experience, social interactions, cultural likings and love life. BUT! Putting reality to the side for more than a moment – Let me go on and on and on about how much I truly envy David Funderburk’s song writing ability. His songs are cleverly prosed, intimately personal, and relatable. Oh, forget the the going on and on… I’ll post lyrics to one of his songs instead. He didn’t play this last night but it is one of my favorites. 

Oh also, Justin Brewer from his spot in the audience sang every song David sang last night, often times belting out too loud with such emotional aspiration that it would have been embarrassing if it hadn’t been funny or Justin. A true fan. 

the song…. La Petite Mort (a little death) 

On Vanderbilt land, I sleep in the dark and wait til the bitter end when I’ll flee from the park, and I doubt that you’d see me til I creep up your path; I sink my teeth with raging love, never wrath. Whore of Babylon above me, you can ride me til the end, and when your done with my love, I’ll eat you in your bed. I’m a wildcat, I’m a wildcat, 10 horns and seven heads. I’ll send you to 7th heaven with a little death. I haunt through the bushes with my skulls and my bones. There’s no hunter here fierce enough to wear my coat. I prey in the moonlight with my jaws open wide, and I howl for Maria. She’s my bird and my bride. She mourns her beloved who’s been crucified like a scarecrow, hanging out on the hillside. She’s a black one, she’s a black one, she’s the only bird left, and her body aint afraid of a little death. Whore of Babylon above me, you can ride me til the end, and when your done with my love, I’ll eat you in your bed. I’m a wildcat, I’m a wildcat, 10 horns and seven heads. I’ll send you to 7th heaven with a little death.

Keepin me Cussin’

We have many distractions at our disposal. I have found a new way to dispose of my time. It keeps me cussing.

*Convinced* If anyone can build a contraption that can conquer the Four Balls level… well… they are without doubt… a genius. 

http://fantasticcontraption.com/

Attention America!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Allow me to take this opportunity to inform my fellow citizens that John McClain and Osama Bin Laden ARE NOT running for President of the United States. It’d be very dramatic and cinematic if they were. 

We watched the games last night.

Aunt Sha: I bet those Iranian women won’t be playing volleyball in the Olympics.

Me: I bet those Iranian men won’t be doing gymnastics in the Olympics-They don’t have any homosexuals in their country.

Aunt Sha: Do they really not?

Mom: They do Sha.

Right now, there are big safety concerns about the Equestrian portion of the Olympic games. Fourteen riders and several more horses have died just in the past 18 months. The problem – the horses are not clearing the obstacles that help make up the cross-country course. 

C&K and yesterday

Murner: 3 dog, 1 crumble, 1 pellet, 1 cat

Pop: no pellet

M: 3 dog, 1 crumble, 1 cat

P: 1 dog, 1 crumble, 1 cat

M: no… 3 dog, 1 crumble, 1 cat

P: you said 1 dog

M: no… I said 3

P: you said 1

M: It’s your hearing

P: Maybe so… 3 dog, 1 crumble, 1 cat

M: 3 dog, 1 crumble, 1 cat

With that exercise over – Pop and I retrieved the 3 dog, 1 crumble and 1 cat from the storage building. With it easily being 118 degrees outside, we neatly stacked the 5 bags vertically on the grass.

Nice presentation! 

And because Pop and I always have a comfortable lack of words – I said, “The farm is fed.” 

 

 

 

Doing the Did

Sunday was a Night at the Oscars – We learned our lines, added accessories and forced ourselves to be overly social. (Please reference Christina’s bog to view wonderful pictures –->)

Pam Anderson wore a superhero-esque dress 1st -> His second dress was white and seemed to have extensions that made him octopus-esque when twirling. Pam A. sent superhero-esque rays of attitude and criticisms!! This only made him the wished-to-be murdered and everyone else envious of a would be murderer. No real murder took place.

Chris’ fiancé (she isn’t French) turned out to be the fictional murderer. I applaud her for being so well equipped to keep a secret. I applaud myself for not giving up this fiancé joke (reference the bold). Yes, I realize that it doesn’t make much sense. I’m very aware that I overuse it.

Saturday– Andrea and I played at Paris Mountain State Park. Please remember that it is 2 dollars PER person to enter the park. PMSP has a lovely (kick-ass) amphitheatre. The power used to run the sound equipment is provided by a solar panel – !environmental consciousness! After Andrea played guitar (swatted away bees), and as I was strumming along – the people watching me began watching the sky. Oh wow, how the sky grew dark, black and ugly (please please please do not misinterpret that I’m trying to link “black” with “ugly”). Taking warning, we all walked through the woods to a picnic shelter. Yes – I was quick to make a Moses comparison as we grouped through the woods. Andrea and I sat on a table and everyone sat down at other tables.

Rain and thunder played back up. Great experience.

Monday, I cut the grass. My yard is spotted with spots where dust can fly stories high – I wore a mask. 

MMMMM Mountains MMMMM

Michael and I – sweating and heavy with breathing (+ food)  pondered why Asheville, NC is so popular. 

I argued that it – has “reaaal NIIIICCCEEE” architecture and owns a well developed appreciation for culture/diversity. Also, I assume that there are people that appreciate the long dirty hair’d, dark smile’d and 1/2 nake’d street patrons. 

I see the romance behind the appreciation. The romance -> these people scream “F – U – Man!” to the world and un-shackle their spirit from itchy societal chains. They spread their arms like an eagle, pelican, duck, goose and make due with the basics. OH MAN! That’d be the life – no responsibility – true unbridled freedom. 

Personally, I don’t buy into that kinda’ romance and assume other causes/motives behind that kinda’ situation (in most cases). 

She and Him played well – played great really.