CrumpArt

I saw this meme on Bird Ahoy’s blog this morning, and couldn’t help myself. First up, one of the most beautiful, beautiful songs ever…

For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her, Simon & Garfunkel

What a dream I had
Pressed in organdy
Clothed in crinoline
Of smoky burgundy
Softer than the rain

I wandered empty streets down
Past the shop display
I heard cathedral bells
Dripping down the alleyway
As I walked on

And when you ran to me your
Cheeks flushed with the night
We walked on frosted fields
Of juniper and lamplight
I held your hand

And when I awoke
And felt you warm and near
I kissed your honey hair
With my grateful tears
Oh, I love you girl
Oh how I love you

I had a hard time finding any other lyrics that even come close to that kind of perfection, but I’ve found a few others that I love.

Another Satellite, XTC

My heart is taken it’s not lost in space
And I don’t want to see your mooney mooney face
I say why on earth do you revolve around me
Aren’t you aware of the gravity
Don’t need another satellite

I’m happy standing on my feet of clay
I have no wish to swim your milky milky way
I say why on earth do you send your letters ’round here
Only to gum up the atmosphere
Don’t need another satellite

So circling we’ll orbit another year
Two worlds that won’t collide
So circling we’ll orbit another year
Moon still tries to steal the tide away

Don’t need another satellite
Don’t need another satellite

Abort your mission let’s just say you tried
Before you glimpse I have a darker darker side
I say why in Heaven’s name do you come on these trips
Only to freeze in a total eclipse
Don’t need another satellite

So circling we’ll orbit another year
Two worlds that won’t collide
So circling we’ll orbit another year
Moon still tries to steal the tide away
Don’t need another satellite
Don’t need another satellite

Tuesday, You Am I

Saw the sun come up again.
Last week’s papers and a pack of darts
That got me through ’til ten.
The ten fifteen’s five minutes late.
I really should just get out more these days.
Next door is coughing up his lungs.
Two A.M. I’m sure she said
She’s gonna get herself a gun.
I blacked out from three to five.
You should hear what’s going on outside.

As the morning bread goes hard
On the corner shop they’re waiting
Just for rush hour to start.
And I’m wondering why his kids are late
I really should just get out more these days.

Days, and each one shows
there’s so much I’ll never know
If I don’t ever get
If I never get home, home.

And old Ryan’s still his rust
And Tuesday comes and goes
Like any late night bus.
I could do a lot more with my time
But you should hear what’s going on outside.

Falling is like this, Ani DiFranco

You give me that look that’s like laughing
With liquid in your mouth
Like you’re choosing between choking
And spitting it all out
Like you’re trying to fight gravity
On a planet that insists
That love is like falling
And falling is like this

Feels like reckless driving when we’re talking
It’s fun while it lasts and it’s faster than walking
But no one is going to sympathize when we crash
They’ll say you hit what you head for
You get what you ask
And we’ll say we didn’t know
We didn’t even try
One minute there was road beneath us
And the next just sky

I’m sorry I can’t help you
I cannot keep you safe
Sorry I can’t help myself
So don’t look at me that way
We can’t fight gravity
On a planet that insists
That love is like falling
And falling is like this

And just one more Simon & Garfunkel, because I can’t resist. And also because this one has a poetry reference as well. Paul Simon is the king of poetic lyrics.

A Poem on the Underground Wall

The last train is nearly due,
The underground is closing soon,
And in the dark deserted station,
Restless in anticipation,
A man waits in the shadows.

His restless eyes leap and snatch,
At all that they can touch or catch,
And hidden deep within his pocket,
Safe within its silent socket,
He holds a coloured crayon.

Now from the tunnel’s stony womb,
The carriage rides to meet the groom,
And opens wide the welcome doors,
But he hesitates, then withdraws
Deeper in the shadows.

And the train is gone suddenly.
On wheels clicking silently
Like a gently tapping litany,
And he holds his crayon rosary
Tighter in his hand.

Now from his pocket quick he flashes,
The crayon on the wall he slashes,
Deep upon the advertising,
A single-worded poem comprising
Four letters.

And his heart is laughing, screaming, pounding,
The poem across the tracks resounding,
Shadowed by the exit light
His legs take their ascending flight
To seek the breast of darkness and be suckled by the night.

I’ve found that after a big, long, emotionally in depth post, I tend to go MIA on the blog for a week or so. I like to let posts like that brew, and I also feel a little drained energy wise. Which is why you get a weeks worth of YouTube posts.

I did have something else big to prepare for this week though. You see, Wednesday the 27th is my birthday. You know, just incase I haven’t mentioned that already. And on Saturday night just gone I had a party. It was a fun party, with owl cake and friends and other yummy food and presents. But it turns out that if you’re going to have a party at your house, you have to clean said house. This task has gotten easier this year, as we’ve been shifting things around and keeping the place tidier in general, but certain areas of the house still looked like something had blown up there. My studio, for instance. And also the ironing basket.

I also had about half my yarn stash in quarantine, and decided this was as good a time as any to deal with that. I used to keep my yarn in the inside part of a wicker coffee table with a removable glass top. I decided recently that this wasn’t the best scenario, and pulled all the yarn out. Some of it was pretty dusty, and I was worried that moths and/or other creepy crawlies had made it their home. I also had a few WIPs in the newer part of the stash that needed frogging, and therefore re-skeining and washing. So I unwound half the balls of yarn in my stash, washed them, dried them, and organised it all into some new plastic buckets that now live on top of my plan drawers.

It felt so good.

I. Can’t. Wait.

Better quality Quicktime version here.

This one’s for Tally.

You know what the best birthday present ever would be?

If you bought something from my Etsy store.

Can’t believe I’ve never thought to do a Sigur Rós search on YouTube before.