Here’s a hat tipped—a toast post or post toast, if you will—for the theme of music. Eureka, that’s one of my favorite subjects!
This post exists because of the weekly inspiration provided by Hugh at Hugh’s Views and News. Hugh recently took a turn as judge for the Eurovision song contest as well—on his blog, that is. He was ably assisted by his adorable pal Toby, a corgi.
Oh, and the photos are pretty rough. I don’t have any photo-editing software (that I’ve figured out yet, anyway) on this new computer. I hope you still like them.
Have a harmonious week!
Especially for you, Hugh. Taken on a recent sojourn to a pretty river town called Alton, Ill. Musically, it’s the birthplace of jazz icon Miles Davis.
Effects processors/pedals for guitars.
Music-recording stuff.
Acoustic
My first drum. Nothing fancy (but appreciated). A simple Slingerland snare.
Red is a lucky color in some cultures, you know. Not so much, however, when it commandeers your body.
Embarrassment—the skull-and-crossbones flagship of all things red—and I have a long and twisted history. Some say I was born, no, not blue-skinned, but bright, bawling red. (Ohmigod, I’m naked in front of all these strange people in white clothes! And why the heck is that huge one spanking me?)
Throughout life, any indignities or embarrassments channeled right to my elfin-sized ears. Sometimes it would even seep to my cheeks.
But that’s me; sheepishly entering the red room of embarrassment from time to time has not left me without some worldly treasures in the coffers, burgled as they were from the King. (Whose book on writing I highly recommend, incidentally.)
Inexplicably, I was in a singing mood while working this whole embarrassment equation out long-handedly and -windedly, so I cadged an existing tune and mashed up the lyrics a little.
And now for your reading Schadenfreude, here’s a quick cavalcade of the (now mostly humorous) face-flushing moments.
Glasses on noses and mud-stains on cord jeans
Giant teenage face-pocks and bad-perm in my tweens
Peach sequined prom-dresses ruined by my trips
These are a few of my mem’rable slips
Small rounded green peas and big bullies’ harsh words
“Four-eyes” and “dork-face” and pill’ried as the nerd
“Cool” kids lack the wit, but still bring the whips
These are a few of my mem’rable slips
Mean boys in blue jeans with stoned acid washes
Hard falls in puddles, absent galoshes
Rainbow color Froot Loops burst forth from my lips
These are a few of my funniest slips
When that kid bullies
When this kid falls
When I’m feeling low
I simply recall my more mem’rable slips
And then I don’t feel, I grow.
Leigh's Wordsmithery 