Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
The distance calls me
I try to see
who it is and what they want from me
the distance calls me
from outside
full of hate and telling me lies
the distance calls me
the people I know
urging me to love and telling me to grow
the distance calls me
without knowing why
I hide away and slip inside
This song has been creeping in on my consciousness like volunteer weeds taking root. Then my wife started singing parts of it and playing it.
I had a problem, though. I thought they were singing, “Ooh ooh, I’m a rebel with a kick stand.” My musical instincts told me that probably wasn’t what was being sung.
I asked my wife, and she provided the right words: “I’m a rebel just for kicks, now.”
Ah, kicks now. That makes more sense than kick stand.
I enjoy this song, with its cool rhythm, back beat, and muted brass inflections. The lyrics are awesome, too:
I been feeling it since 1966, now
Might be over now, but I feel it still
Ooh woo, I’m a rebel just for kicks, now
Let me kick it like it’s 1986, now
Might be over now, but I feel it still
Here’s Portugal. The Man, and “Feel It Still” from 2017.
Napdar (catfinition) – the extrasensory ability to immediately detect when someone is going to take a nap, a sense that’s extremely refined among house cats.
In use: “His napdar awakening him from his slumber in the guest room, Tucker rose and padded into the living room where Michael was just settling down to take an afternoon nap, and settled his massive feline body on the human’s inviting belly.”
He doesn’t want his father to die, but this person that he sees every day doesn’t tell the jokes that his father used to make, and he doesn’t drink beer and coffee, doesn’t go walking with his dog, or wash his cars, or go for drives (driving too fast), or watch television and argue about sports.
He doesn’t want this man to die, even though his beard is white and wispy, and his hair is gone, and the lean, tall body sags like a worn fence, and he no longer barks out demands and orders.
He doesn’t want this man to die, the drooling one who sits in a chair and stares most of the day, the one that doesn’t eat much, mostly eating candy when he does eat, the man who doesn’t remember his name and needs help to use the toilet.
He doesn’t want this man to die, no matter what kind of wreck he is, because he knows that he’s still his father, and he will miss him more when he’s gone.
But he doesn’t want this man to suffer any more, because he is his father, so he comes every day, visiting and waiting, wondering and remembering, wishing that he had hope for something besides what it is.
Malacat (catfinition) – a feline who doesn’t seem like one, exhibiting behavior more associated with other species.
In use: “Living in a house with four dogs, Spunky soon became a malacat, chasing squirrels, eating with messy gusto, and running with the pack.”
I learned this song from the AM radio when I was very young. I began thinking about “The Name Game” this morning, but remembering “The Clapping Song,” I switched to it. I loved its rhythms and clapping when I was a child. Come on, they’re fun lyrics and easy to learn:
Three, six, nine, the goose drank wine,
The monkey chewed tobacco on the streetcar line
The line broke, the monkey got choked,
They all went to heaven in a little row-boat
Clap-Pat
Clap-Pat
Clap-Pat
Clap-Slap
Clap-Pat: Clap your hand, pat it on your partner’s hand (right hand)
Clap-Pat: Clap your hand, cross it with your left arm, pat your partner’s left palm
Clap-Pat: Clap your hand, pat your partner’s right palm with your right palm again
Clap-Slap: Clap your hands, slap your thighs, and sing a little song; go:
My mother told me
If I was good-ee
That she would buy me
A rubber dolly
My aunty told her
I kissed a soldier
Now she won’t buy me
A rubber dolly
I didn’t know that Shirley Ellis sang it. Honestly, when I learned this song, it all came from that magical place called the radio. It wasn’t for a few years that I realized that those voices and music represented individual people. Yeah, I was a little slow. After hearing the song when I was older, I wondered about the age of a person who was being promised a rubber dolly but wasn’t being given one because she kissed a soldier.
I like this quote. Writing is a relationship with my mind, and not just an escape or an attempted career path.
It’s always why I like having dreams at night, and remembering and thinking about them. They’re another part of the relationship with my mind.
I have to get out of here so I can get done so I can get back and get going and finish before I have to go and get started.
Michael Seidel, writer 