Daily Podcast

This is something I wrote months and months ago and never got around to podcasting. But it's a podcasting kind of day. Sorry if it's really quiet, like it is on my computer. And sorry about my cold.

Brother
you used to play me songs
as rich and sweet and strong as golden honey
on sunny, whirling autumn days
and in my childish haze I saw
a world of patterns, moments paused,
reflecting as your fingers bent
and sent
premonitory glass repents.
The air was thick with your sickness,
thick with moths and quicksand rhymes
in double time,
your strings emitting sound ignition

Funny, when we fall apart, we let nobody see. We make excuses, walk away, and break down privately, in bathroom stalls and empty rooms that no one else can find; we listen to the logic of the voices in our minds.

I’m useless for what I cannot do. I’m worthless if I don’t do well. I’m stupid if I can’t find truth. I’m weak if I don’t go through hell.

You’re not going through hell if no one can tell.
You’re not going through hell if no one can tell.
You’re not going through hell if no one can tell.
You’re not going through hell if no one can tell.

Bitch.

A dove’s heart is no sweeter than mine
But they get all the credit
They have great credit
They have better credit than I
Do
I died my hair brown today
Rinsed it with the water from Notre Dame
But the water didn’t seem so pure this time round
The water didn’t seem so pure this time
Is that a good omen or a bad omen?
I don’t know
But I can tell you this
Never take a shower with out a curtain
Cause all the ghosts can see in
And they’ll stare
And they won’t look away
Cause they think it’s okay
Cause they’re dead

This is from a recent book project of mine on Little Women by Louisa May Alcott... Beth, the second youngest of four sisters at 13, has a terrible bout with scarlet fever at one point in the book and enters a state of painful delusion and sickness. She's a very musical character and the family very much misses having her play piano for them when they sing each night before going to sleep.

Fevers don’t share.
They hardly allow for breaths,
consciousness, patience to care!
& a musical soul is
no exception for this
in a state that admits
little
but the heat.

So this is a song i wrote a couple weeks ago...feedback is welcome!!! Also, there might be a few changes to the words in the the song, but only minor things.

Lyrics:

It's been a long time since i let down my disguise
and let the world see what i was feeling inside
It's not easy to be everything that you see
'cause it's not who i am, not who i wanna be

CHORUS:
You see the courage, the strength that keeps my head high
It's the face i put on when i'm shaking inside
You see the cover i keep 'cause i'm trying to hide
from the world
I'm not that girl

We hurt
so we medicate.

Our bones ache and our fingers bleed and our minds are nothing but tattered balls of yarn
so we medicate.
Nevermind the fact that this is
beautiful.
Our tattered minds are the only thing
holding the world together.

Our hearts develop cracks and tears from being thrown around too much over time
so we medicate.
We don't realize that all we
need
is someone to pick it up and dust it off and
give it back to us.

(Language alert -- gg)
(So. This is what happens when I play with Audacity instead of writing my Iliad essay. It's... odd, I suppose. The original wording is given, though the final copy did not stay entirely true to the first. Eh.

Riboflavin be with you.
-Neon)

Ehahahahahahaho…
scritch-scrun-scritch-scrun-scritch-scrun-CRANK
Hello, and welcome to the International Festival of –

It’s the six o’clock news on channel negative three,
your most trusted source this plane of infinity,
sponsored by SkyPass, saving your ass and booking first class
to any dimension you choose—
but first, the news.

It’s been a long and hot day for the folks in your head.
The sand is bleached white and the sky is burned red
and most of the grass you planted is dead, is dead, is dead, instead.
There’s a violin playing just out of your sight
and it’s driving you bonkers late in the night
and all that you want is to just find a light to shine, and see
the source of the song

Thanks, naturally, to Special. Wonderful poem. I wanted to slam it because I've been trying to write it for a while now... If there are mistakes, it's because this was the first time I'd ever spoken these words. One rather obvious one is when my brain told me to say 'the terms' and my body rebelled. Good thing, too - the the is not in there.

Nouns
People, places, things
We are not
We mean actions, movements
What we are is verbs
In an
Unspoken tense.

I am
You are
He is
She is
They are
We are
We are

Nouns,
No, that makes no sense
I am not somewhere you can go
Something you can pick up
Hold.
We are
Written, we are spoken, thought
I am
You are
We are defined by the things we do.

It is physically impossible, a contradiction of
Terms, for us to be anything
But who we are.
There’s no pretending.
We are simple, basic
We can be conjugated
Untangled
Found.
So don’t call me a

A lot can happen in a year.
Stories read and stories told
and stories lost and found and then
old by the time they’re told again
by lips so young and mirrored minds
closer than they appear—
by a year—

Do you remember the rain?
The lighting shooting down, the pain,
the way ink trickled to the ground
like—blood. I bled
with every word I wrote,
every word I read,
every poem,
every note,
every stroke of lighting through my head.
And with every drop of ink, of rain
I went a little more insane—

Had some free time so I finally tried to do this. Do tell what you think, and I will continue with the rest of the script (here: http://www.youngwritersproject.org/node/16335 ) at a later date.

Enjoy.

Oh, yes, and again, a warning to those of you easily offended:

TREAD CAREFULLY.

“So the guy kisses me on the cheek, I turn to him before the centurions grab me, and I say, ‘So you really are bi, aren’t you, Judas?”

“Ha oh ho, oh, son. You always were better at humor than me.”

In English class, we're wrapping up our unit on Frankenstein with a project, and I decided to write a song. For those of you who haven't read the book, I'll give you a brief synopsis so that the song has more context:

Victor Frankenstein decides to create human life in his quest for glory. His creation, however, is physically abhorrent. He takes one look at his creation and abandons it. Meanwhile, the "monster" teaches himself how to read and speak, and observes human interaction. Besides the fact that he was created through science, he proves himself to be an intelligent and capable human being. Essentially, the rejection from his "parent" and from society is what drives him to become a monster. This theme of "the effects of rejection" is what I'm focusing on in the song.

And it works!

Lonely
[lonely]
feeling weak;
heartless taking
[my heart's breaking];
darling,
gentle,
it's so fragile,
curl your hands around the
candle.

List the reasons:
cross them out,
at the top of the world, I--
[I would say shout]
but I won't.
This isn't about will or
don't,
this is about you keeping me--

I decided a while ago that I really ought to hone my podcasting skills, because I feel like it's a medium with so much potential that I have been neglecting for far too long. 'Course, I have no microphone and my computer had no software.

Then we got a Mac.

So now I've got no excuse not to upload something, and this first podcast is the product of a bonding experience with GarageBand this morning. And since I really can't stand the sound of my own voice, I thought I'd utilize the cello I seem to have become known for...

Thus, a song is born.

Well, part of one anyway. By the time I figured out what the hell I was doing, I was really short on time. So I've only recorded a small bit of my favorite piece for solo cello, Julie-O, by Mark Summer. Someday I aim to record the rest, but that takes time and effort and a much larger amount of space than I have available to me in front of the computer (which is wedged between another desk and a couch).

[It seems to be when it's late that I come up with the best songs ha ha]

I wish that you could see me now
I wish that I could show you how I've been
Keep me faithful keep me strong
and show me I'm not alone

You are the one I want
You are the one I need
You are the only one my heart desires
You are the only one my eyes see

Stay here
with me please don't leave
don't leave

The music is 25 Dollars Worth (not 25 Cents XD) from the movie Michael Clayton. I edited it so that you don't have to listen to five extra minutes of music.

I saw the snow melt
It dropped
Bit by bit off the trees, and
Fell
Splash
Onto the ground, where it
Disappeared

But before that, I saw the snow
Fall
Not from the trees, but from
The sky, where the rain
Froze, and where the clouds
Darkened

But before that, I saw the trees
Wither
Their leaves falling
Crunch
Onto the ground,
Where we
Stepped on them
Like they were nothing

The hillsides were
Splashed
With color, dazzling our
Eyes that
Looked up from our quiet
Secluded
World

But even before that, I saw the flowers
Sway
As the wind
Passed over
Them

The wind that blew over the
Grass and whistled past our
Ears and flew over out
Green, glowing
Hills

And even farther back
I saw
The snow
Melt

This the first ever icuc, shiny and yellowrose COLLABORATION!! We each wrote from one perspective.

Watcher:
I am the Watcher. I am not dead, I am not dying, I merely am. I watch all those who are dying.
Everyone is dying. From the moment they are born, they are dying. Every single second, they are living towards death.

Is this thing on?

Okay.

My name is Usagi, and
I have a problem.

I write poetry.

My submission to the VT Writes Day site... Podcast here.(GG's suggestion)
Also: I strongly suggest listening to it. I tried something... new with my reading... I usually just READ things, but with this I actually tried to make my reading go with the words... I think it sounds better the way I thought it as opposed to the way I assume someone would read it.

I write
Some would call me
A writer
I guess you could say
I'm good at it.
It hasn't always
Been this way.
I used to
Hate writing
Despise it with a passion.
Until someone
Showed me
My writing
Could be
MINE
It could mirror
Me.
It could be
short
It could be
Long
I could
Crumple my words
Up into a paper ball
And throw them across the room
Have a war
Of poetry
With my neighbor.
I could throw them off
The edge of a cliff
Watch them break
And bind
At the bottom.
Then
Throw them on a page
And call
It
Art.
I could lace them
With brittle fingers
And brittle thread

My fellow citizens:

I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors.

We’re all watching, listening; I’m driving home from midterms and his voice is on the radio and there is barely a car on the road. Everyone is at home, watching history. Obama's voice crackles through the car speakers.

*First podcast so not great quality. Enjoy!*

Take some time to climb the trees, listen to the frost heaves,
let your hair unfurl, girl, and do whatever you please.
Rickytickyticky go the branches where you sit,
climb a little higher until you could almost spit,

at the sun, the golden one, let your fingers brush the clouds.
Be excited; you're invited to experience it now.
Feel the world and let it twirl and lay you on the sand,
The boom-de-boom of lightning is a marble in your hand.

You've been chosen for the frozen hills to bury you in powder,
Want more snow? Then just yell a little louder.
It's your power, plant some flowers, let them grow as tall as you.
Clap for thunder, you can wonder why the sky is blue.

This is your land and you plan the blueprint for it all,
Paint the wash of tides in your own untidy scrawl.
Plinkplunkplink goes the rain on dusty streets,
so make some catchy music with this rhythm as your beat.

If I am a soldier then I fight the world.
The side I am on is my own.
This gun will fire the words of my heart
and lonely my heart is of stone.
I’ll live forever because I don’t live.
Cut me; my veins run black ink.
Look into my eyes and you’ll find nothing there.
Reflections daring you to think.
I am the key to the shackles you hate.
I’m the grim reaper who always comes late.
I am the voices that speak in the night.
I am the faces that dance out of sight.
I am the dream that you can’t quite recall.
I am the shape that is not there at all.
I am the name that you’re afraid to call.
I will slit your throat just to watch
you
fall.

I came up with this idea in the shower the other day. So, here it is. Podcast is up. I didn't listen to it first, but it's probably about as good as I'm going to get it with a cheap microphone meant for karaoke.

I love showers. They’re so nice and warm. The feeling of the warm water rushing down onto you…it’s a rush I only get one other way. It’s quite marvelous.

I found myself in the shower this morning. I take showers every couple of hours. I make sure to say that to myself a lot, because the rhyme always makes me laugh. After lathering myself up with soap and shampoo, I just like to stand there. Just stand, and feel the water. Close my eyes and feel the water, cleansing me completely.

What if it was blood?

My eyes snapped open. No. Just water. Just warm, fresh, clean, clear water. No nasty, sticky, dirty, thick, red blood.

I closed my eyes again. I saw red.

My eyes snapped open. It’s still just water. It’s still just water.

quiet
hush
an unspoken understanding fills the room
SAY SOMETHING
there's no words
hear nothing
immobile
shush
no!
don't talk
it will make it real
SHUT UP
if you let the words come out
don't!
cool it
silence
button
zip
slam it shut
a waterfall of words
pounding
pounding
I break
tears
pour
out

Finally, after about a million tries. Thanks for the help, qwertygirl.

I should have known better than to love you.
I should have known more than to care.
I should have thought twice
before I gave you my life
and I should have waited for my chickens to hatch.

I should have learned something from the last time.
I should have realized what you can do.
I should have looked both ways
for days and for days
and I should have known more.

CHORUS:
Now I'm all caught up
with loving you
all caught up
in a dream.
Flying around in circles
like a crazy little dove
looking out
through the windows of love.

The soft echoing tones of John Lennon drift down from my sister’s room- the same song she’d been listening to in the car the whole way home, when she’d graciously offered me one of her awful head phones. I’d accepted- it isn’t every day my sister shares. I’d sung along a little, but mostly I just glared out the window, watched the trees slide by on the other side of the glass, and wished that I could join them. I flinch as the song changes, disappears, the sounds leaving a silent pressure in my head- like my heart misses them too. My sister has music ADD. I have computer ADD. I think as, for the fifth or sixth time, I click through my other windows. Three windows.

Since there was no school today and my internet has been down... A new podcast. Adapted from the poem "Skeleton Key." (Sorry the key is a bit off... My voice is cracking. I'm getting a cold. Will redo the vocals later when not sick.)

I will not be your secret,
Hiding between closed doorways and drawers,
I will not ask forgiveness,
I’ve done nothing wrong (but I dress like a whore)
And I will not be your mother,
Keeping you safe when the monsters come close
And I will make your legs quiver
Like Genevieve’s, Oh, Oh ,Oh, Oh

When will it break away from me?
Speaking these words worth nothing
I can't describe these scenes
Open-mouthed, gaped-jawed-grabbing,
Clawing blindly at air
Staring into their faces
Staring at piles of their hair

I am open arms
I am up in arms
I am crying out late at night

How does the world keep turning
as it's systematically turned upside down?
Lists of names are burning
even as we learn them.
Just as we all breathe
we all share the same air
what is so left unclear?
only birds remain there

I am open arms
I am up in arms
I am crying out late at night

Illogical thoughts escape
How could someone not care?
I'm sitting here so fine
and yet there's a world out there

I am open arms
I am up in arms
I am crying out late at night
I am open arms
I am up in arms
I am crying out

When will it break?
When will it break?
When will it break? ...