Lyrics

Noted Things of Interest:
Frequently, I have discovered, though they may have been the one to write a song, upon singing the song the singer may not sing what they have written. Too, it is more often than not the case that each version of the song, regardless of who sings it, is a tad different from all the other versions. I may sing "ara", you may sing "oh".

Note on Being Human:
Humans do not forgive one another and hold grudges throughout ages. Group A enslaved Group B over a century ago but group B (though none were alive in that time) still blames Group A for any of their current problems.
Group C, meantime, despises group D even though D (in modern times) has done nothing to C. C, however, finds D to be the scum of the earth and therefore will abuse A as well as B because they really want to get at D but have no way of doing so without jeopardizing what they have.
This explanation is wanting, but it's curious nonetheless.

Journal Day Unknown

Times have been too distracting.

Before I left home they gave me an age (twenty. Quite young. Or old) and a date of birth (the twentieth day of the month of July). According to this calendar I turned twenty-one yesterday. It was my first birthday celebration. There was chicken, pie and a wee model of a horse. It was stated that the twenty-first birthday is a day to celebrate with alcohol, but I avoided it. Alcoholic beverages make my head tiddly.

Noted things of interest:
I believe eggs are the most versatile food; second, perhaps, to grain. They are most delicious.

Note on Being Human:
I was in a park with a fellow and we were watching the sparrows chase a rather large hawk when a family walked past. I have encountered many foreigners (myself being one I suppose it could be said everyone I have encountered has been a foreigner), but never before have I realized what this family showed me.
There was a dark-skinned man and a black-haired woman and their yellow-frocked daughter and the mother and daughter were speaking together in their quick tongue, all sounding gibberish to me and my friend. Something the mother said made the girl laugh and her laughter was so ordinary, so natural that I forgot for a moment that there was a language barrier at all between us and them.
Regardless of how different a person is from another, every human laughs and laughter is quite simple to translate.

Journal Day 59

I saw a woman today who was the very essence of radiance. I only saw her from behind as I drove past, she was walking up her black driveway with a handful of letters from the box. There were gardens full of flowers and overhanging trees flanking the drive and her house was well-cared for, small and surrounded by flowers. The woman was dark-skinned and wore a white bikini with red polka dots. Her hair was long, black and shining and hung in banded waves to her mid-back. She had broad shoulders and walked with confidence and with a slight sway in her steps. She knew she was beautiful.



I hunted a hot air balloon the other night. It was brightly coloured and soared languidly above pastures and crops without a care, the mild breeze pushing it hither and yon, but steadily east and a little south. I followed it for a time and thought how much I would like to be so high above the earth with nothing between me and the earth but wicker and clouds.

There has been a strange buzzing in my head that I cannot identify. I think it might just be the remnants of a day spent mowing a lawn (something quite exciting, indeed! The way the blade cuts the grass so deftly, so evenly...)

Note things of interest: Dried bones sound lovely striking one another. Bones can also be used for many things: buttons, decorations, accessories, etc.

Note on Being Human: There is such a thing as an overly-friendly individual: someone who cannot stand silence and feels lonely unless surrounded by people with whom they can speak. These types of people make friends easily, but make enemies just as quickly and should be regarded in a kindly manner, but not a close manner.

Journal Day 58

Today is a salmony type day.

I leaned upon a fence and watched as three farmers turned rows of dried grass into squares (bales). The machinery they used was simplistic, yet terribly functional and awe-some. The way the baler fed the grasses into itself, compacted it and finally tied the entire bale with twine before pushing it up into the waiting hands of one of the men to be stacked upon the trailer with the rest was most assuredly impressive. It is something I shall never forget.

Noted things of interest: Jell-o is simply fantastic in all its cartilage-y glory. Jell-o Jiggler Gnomes... they are something to be sung of in children's legends.

Note on being human: Humans more often than not despise one another whether they show it on the surface or keep it to themselves.

Journal Day 56 (Being Today)

Shins are bruisable and breakable and do not take well to meeting porch steps violently.
I was driving back from many hours of perusing cemeteries (incidentally, most people believe this act to be strange and morbid and a bit macabre) when I passed a man. He was an elderly man, perhaps mid-sixties given his hair and demeanor. He wore a black half circle over his left eye and carried a red and black gym bag over his shoulder. When the man driving in front of me passed the man raised his thumb into the air and turned towards us. I nodded and waved to him and drove on.
Later, upon returning home, I learned that the man was "hitch-hiking". I do not know the reason and I do not know the circumstances, but I felt poorly for a time knowing that I could have assisted him (and learned if and why he was missing an eye). I think the feeling is called remorse. Perhaps it is some sympathy as well.

Note of Interest: F'noodles can be used in place of (or along with) garden hoses.

Note on Being Human:
Sometimes the body does not seem to fit. All the pieces are connected, but they don't seem natural to one another. I wonder if this is common to feel this way on occasion.

Journal Day 56 (Being Yesterday)

The Internet doesn't always work the way it is supposed to.

I struck a tiny sparrow today with my vehicle. I could see it fluttering on the ground in mortal agony so I turned back. It's eyes were moving and its beak opening and closing in tiny gasps. I picked it up and cupped it in my hand. I could feel its heart pitta-patting above my fingers. It's eyes were watery and it finally stopped breathing. Seconds later its heart was still and not even a vibration went through its tiny body. It was so fragile in my hands. I stroked its soft chest and touched its head and felt a twinge of sorrow for the bird. I realized that creatures of this world are the same as anywhere. They live, breathe and die just as anyone.

Journal Day 55 (Entry 54)

Apparently there is a thing as "too much" sleep. I missed all of Sun's Day due to not waking up for it.
Independence Day.
I asked a couple of people what it meant. I was given two reasons, though I only choose to believe the first. I was told that it was the day this country became independent from another. I was also told it was the day Earth declared its dependence from the terrible slimy Space Lords who had the entire human race enslaved and were using them as ant farms for their children. I don't know what an ant farm is or why you would want one or why the Slime Lords' children would want human farms, but I do know the person who told me this knows nothing.
I went on a walk in the afternoon. I passed many hand-decorated signs declaring the location was "where the party was" and the ilk. There were garlands and ribbons and flags strung up everywhere and the whole town seemed to be arrayed in gaiety. I turned onto a small street that wound down into a ravine, over a river and up a steep hill. The houses were all small - trailers - and most were worse than dilapidated. At the bottom of the hill was a rusted, holey home with a sagging garage crudely constructed beside it. Outside this garage was a man in grey overalls and big goggles. He was leaning over the engine of a sleek white car. There were pieces and bits and tools strewn everywhere.
I asked the man why he was not celebrating his freedom like the rest of the country.
"Freedom?" he had laughed at me. It was not a kind laugh. "I live in a house that is too expensive and feed a family that is too large. I work a job that pays too little and fix cars in every waking moment of spare time so I can make ends meet; but only if I stretch and strain and struggle to do so.
"I cannot afford the gasoline to drive to a church who will not help support me in my need, though I help them when I am able. I haven't seen my parents in eight years because they believe I am living poorly and they are disappointed in me. My children have holes in their shoes and cannot get enough to eat and our government is so concerned with giving money to businesses they feel the need to jack up my taxes until I can barely afford to keep this trash heap."
I did not know what to say to this. I realized that not everyone is equal and there are those who are less fortunate than others. I also realized that not everyone who is not well off is as bitter as this man.
Later, when it had grown dark, I put a loaf of bread into his mail box.

The fourth of July. My senses tingle thinking of it. Pie and cake and barbecue and bread pudding and corn o' the cob and ice cream and fresh peas from the garden and baked beans and onions sautéed in white wine and cole slaw and tomato-onion salad.
After the sun grudgingly set there were fireworks to be seen. We sat on the front porch and watched as the horizon lit up with explosions. Bomb burst after bomb burst in a rainbow symphony of colour delighted and amazed us. The earth trembled beneath our feet with each torrent of thunder brought on by the rockets. Every now and again would be a lull and you could see the stars far overheard, bright and shining. The air was nippy and smelled of bonfires and cooking fires and grills cooling. I destinguished three different types of music playing in the distances around us. Far across the fields could be seen a fire, small as a speck, but I knew it would be a raging inferno had we been close.
I returned home, surrounded by fireworks lighting up the skies and drowning out the stars. Late in the night when the moon had already crested its peak and had begun to fall slowly towards its bed again I sat upon my roof and looked out into the woods. The fireflies were having their own celebration, as diamonds glittering beneath a flickering light. In the end, their's was a more marvelous celebration and felt more realistic than all the fireworks I had seen.

Journal Day 53

They say today is "Independence Day", better classified as the "fourth of July" (this month being July and today being the fourth). I am not certain what they are independent from or why, but I shall find out before the day is done. All I do know is I was kept up last night by the explosions. I sat on the roof with a bottle of apple juice and watched the sky as it was torn and shredded millions of times over by the brightest colours. Interesting that these same type of rockets used to kill people bring others so much joy. I was enamored by the "works of fire" and now am sleepy (meaning I am picking up slowly on sleep and sleeping). Independence Day is, perhaps, the day we are independent to make fire in the sky.
The other thing I know about the day is I am invited to go eat "barbecue" and swim in a pool today which is exciting.

Noted things of interest: The sun is a glorious back drop for anything! I have found a few more instances of alien life on an in-alien planet. that would be the tree and the poor tato.
Note on Being Human: It's not all bad.

Journal Day 52

I went to see a movie today. I am overwhelmed and sleep is in order.

Journal day 51

I was speaking to someone today. He was a man who worked in a library, an interesting man and clever man. He said the best way to raise a human was through this manner: Graeme Base, Lloyd Alexander, Neil Gaiman. I did not understand him entirely.

The sky today held some interest - as with most days. It was a fretful sky, a mistrusting sky. Throughout the day there was one patch of honest blue sky, changing with the clouds and promising clearer days ahead. The patch reminded me that the entire sky is a luscious azure above all the grey. It was a heartening thought, but one that made me the smallest bit homesick.

Journal Entry Day 50

Half a century gone.
Wait...
Time. Hm.
Time is not always as it seems, but sometimes is meant to be pondered.
They say it is strange to be cutting watermelon at midnight, but there was a certain peace to it.
I knocked my knuckles last night and the smallest right most one is purple and puffy, the discoloration spreading out to the knuckle beside it and partially up both fingers towards the middle knuckle. Bruising is a strange thing.

Noted Things of Interest: Clouds. Peanut Butter and chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven with a glass of hot chocolate turned cold. The colours in the clouds around the moon last night (though they could not properly be captured on card. Speaking of, few people capture things on film any longer (I have yet to see film). This means that saying you capture something on film makes little sense since the photos are saved to cards. Ergo: the clouds' colours last night could not be properly captured on card; neither the intensity of the moon nor the severity of the clouds - purple and blue and sulpher in the moon's light were they.



Note on Being Human:
When someone has a selfish idea in mind they do not always realize it.
Humans grow differently than I might have thought.