adventures in dysthymia

Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Coffee, Kisses and Goodbyes

Another dawn, another Monday morning;
I hear you breathing gentle as I rise.
Another day, and I must take my leave now --
Coffee and kisses and goodbyes.

Sleep my love, sleep a little longer;
I will sit and watch you for a while.
Sleep and I will savor every minute,
A memory to mark my every mile.

And I'll hold you in my arms there in the kitchen,
Hold you as the coffee slowly brews,
Hold you till the moment I must leave you;
I know how much I have to lose.

Some dawn, I know that I must leave forever;
I've seen the love waning in your eyes.
Some dawn, another day than this one
Of coffee, kisses and goodbyes.

Stephen Brooke ©2005

Most likely this will be a song with the third stanza there serving as chorus. Much of the music is already being worked out in my head. The festival this past weekend got me thinking of someone in my past which provided the impetus for this.

My Florida Folk Festival Weekend

I was wandering about on Friday at the FFF, nothing much on the schedule that looked like a must-see at that moment, so I decided to slip into the AC in the bell tower where some guy named Bob Lind was playing. Must admit, the name didn't seem familiar...

But when I heard the voice and he mentioned 'Elusive Butterfly' I knew who he was. Great song writer and singer. Now I consider it the high point of the weekend for me. Yep, even better than hearing Emmylou Harris. The acoustics in there were tailor-made for Bob's voice and the intimate setting made for a marvelous experience.

I'm hoping that this was only the first of many Bob Lind appearances at White Springs. He lives in Florida these days, I understand, and only started performing again last year after a long hiatus.

Of course, there was a great deal of other good music there. This was my fifth visit -- a former girlfriend dragged me there a few years back and now I'm the one who goes every year. Haven't seen her there in a while though! I'll be writing up more on the weekend and posting some pics in a few days.

Monday, May 23, 2005

A Really Long Boring Song

dedicated to open mikers everywhere!

Chorus:
The only thing worse than a boring song
Is a really long boring song.
Some people don't know when to quit;
They must go on and on!
And they don't seem to mind a bit
When we begin to yawn,
For they don't think there's anything wrong
with a really long boring song!

Verse 1.
They'll sing about the environment,
About their sad childhood;
They think each word was heaven-sent,
They'd use more if they could!
If two words fit where one was meant,
Than that's all to the good;
And if three will help you vent,
Why, then you really should!

Repeat Chorus

Verse 2.
They'll run twenty minutes or darn near
And say they've more to do;
Then proceed to bend your ear
With something that's brand new.
That's time enough to have a beer,
We'll slip out for a brew.
So I'll cut this one short right here--
I don't want to bore you, too!

Repeat chorus...or would that make it too long and boring? :)

Stephen Brooke ©2005

Sunday, May 22, 2005

ANGRY MUSIC

The angry music must be heard.

Shout it, man, shout it
like it's tomorrow's truth.

Play it so it reaches
to the roofs of the moon.

All the girls will dance.

Stephen Brooke ©2005

Was listening to public radio on my way to church this morning and there were references to Punk, which led to this. Being an old punk rocker turned folkie (I find the two genres to have a lot in common), I've always been partial to music that tells 'tomorrow's truth.' And, naturally, I like to see the girls dance to it! :)

VENUSBURG

Tannhauser, baby --
that's who I feel like lately,
(hear that Wagner shit
in the background?)
choosing between the sacred
and the profane.

Even eternal Venus
can't fill a mortal lifetime.
I'm empty. I need more;
more than what we are,
more than being
your sometime lover,

your go-to guy,
the friend-with-benefits.
Sometimes, yeah, sometimes,
baby, I think I'd be
better off alone
than stuck here, halfway

between heaven and hell
and not knowing which
I find in you.

Stephen Brooke ©2005

actually I'm quite fond of that Wagner 'shit'

Friday, May 20, 2005

What could be cooler than two young women playing folk music on ukeleles? Especially when one is a grand daughter of Woodie Guthrie. That's Folk Uke!

Give a listen to the clip of 'Knock Me Up.' Ah, such romanticism! :)

THE LAWN MOWING BLUES

Got the lawn mowin’ blues, workin’ on this yard
I got the lawn mowin’ blues from workin’ on this yard
Never knew that growin’ grass was so darn hard


Cat’s Claw and Tread Softly growing everywhere
Cat’s Claw and Tread Softly keep growing everywhere
Scratch me up any place I’m bare


Sun’s too hot, need to find some shade
Sun’s way too hot, find me some cool shade
Sit me down, chug some Gatorade


Keep runnin’ over those mounds of fire ants
Run right over the mounds of fire ants
My Lord, I think they’re runnin’ up my pants


Here comes rain, now the weeds will grow
Here comes rain, the weeds are gonna grow
Next time I’ll have even more to mow


Got the lawn mowin’ blues, workin’ on this yard
I got the lawn mowin’ blues from workin’ on this yard
Never knew that growin’ grass was so darn hard


Stephen Brooke ©2005

most of this blues lyric came to me this morning while I was...mowing the lawn!

Saturday, May 14, 2005

Last weekend I took another trip up to Tuskegee. My friend Lynda's daughter, Elena, was graduating with her degree in Electrical Engineering. Lynda, as I may have mentioned some time or another, teaches music there at the University, as well as being a mighty fine classical and jazz pianist.

Here's a picture of the graduation. I'm way up in the left corner, standing in front of the choir (and a mighty fine choir they are).



After it all -- the ceremony was held in the morning -- we all (meaning relatives of the proud grad plus me) went to have brunch in the campus hotel. Waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, washed down with mimosas...I wonder how much weight I gained! A jazz trio held forth in the middle of the room (nice lookin' Carvin 6 string bass, sax, piano), with Lynda joining them as things wound down and knocking out a few of her own compositions. Which, btw, were first set down for posterity last month when I recorded her recital.

more FFF

Let me add that one of my all-time favorite acts, the one and only professional smart aleck, Carla Ulbrich will there. I wonder if we can get her to do the F-Word Song?

The Florida Folk Festival

Just two weeks until the Florida Folk Festival, May 27, 28, 29. This is 53rd annual occurence of the longest continuously running festival of its sort in the country and my fifth time taking part.

They hold it at the Stephen Foster park up in White Springs (not far from me), on the Suwanee...which is in serious flood stage this year. Shouldn't cause any problems though the riverside Gazebo Stage may not be usable. This is usually the dry season! Only once has the event been moved to the fall because of flooding, back in the early 70s.

That was the year after the hippies descended on the festival and swam naked in the Suwanee.

Headliner is Emmylou Harris. Maybe not my choice for a 'folk festival' nor what I would consider the best use of funds...but I'll take in her performance none the less. What I look forward to, though, is seeing all my friends, old and new, doing their thing on a dozen stages and playing around the campground fires.

Thursday, May 12, 2005

TRAIN

Gather up your suitcases
filled with dreams. You packed too many
of mine, all folded neatly, and now
you've nothing of your own to wear.

No, I will not apologize
for them. My ambitions define me.
They are me. I am all hunger
these day, all need and impatience.

Would you deny they brought you here?
You asked me for that ticket to ride.
Well, the train is rolling, rolling,
rolling and it makes no stops.

Stephen Brooke ©2005

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

OUR SONG

I'm restless this evening, restless to hit
that road. It calls my name, a lover
I tried to forget. I can't
forget, kid. You know by now

I'm not the guy who will hold you
by the fire, share a joint
and a song, desiring nothing
more than the night. It's not enough;

only she can take me where
my dreams live. Sing for me
once more as the fire fades.
Sing our song and I shall go.

Stephen Brooke ©2005

STORIES

Forgive me, I don't remember
Which lies I told last time;
I had a little too much
Tequila with my lime
And I may have embellished
The stories just a bit.
All my friends could tell you
Sometimes I'm full of...wit.

Did I show you my scar,
Say it's from the war?
In reality,
I got it from a door.
I've never flown to Europe,
Picnicked by the Seine;
In fact I've never even
Been on an airplane.

I might have said I love you,
That you're the only one.
We kissed, I'm pretty sure;
I may have called you 'hon.'
Now doubt, you think I'm awful,
A liar like most men,
But keep in mind I tell
The truth now and then.

Stephen Brooke ©2005

I reckon this might turn into a song -- would need a chorus of some sort and that's only a working title. I seem to be in songwriting mode at the moment.

Monday, May 09, 2005

LET LOVE BE LONG
a song

chorus:
Life is short,
Let love be long.
Life is frail,
Let love be strong.
Life will dance
When love's the song.
Life is short,
Love should be long.

verse 1:
You and I,
We make one;
Hand in hand
Until we're done.
Be my day;
I'll be your sun.
Two of us,
We make one.

repeat chorus
verse 2:
Time's an arrow
In the heart:
Moments shared
Before we part.
Let love belong,
Let love start;
Hold each other
In the heart.

repeat chorus
verse 3:
You and I,
We will last,
Still in love
When life has passed.
Two of us,
Holding fast:
Life is short;
Love will last.

repeat chorus

Stephen Brooke ©2005

Sunday, May 01, 2005

What kind of brain do you have?

www.guardian.co.uk/life/news/page/0,12983,937443,00.html

I came out well on the 'Systemizing' side of things, with an EQ of 39 and an SQ of 59.

RISE

The sun must rise
As daughter sleeps in.
She shuts her eyes;
The nays shall win.

All night long
For things that were,
The mix is wrong;
Sleeper, stir!

The sun will rise
But the girl sleeps on;
Abed she lies
about the dawn.

Stephen Brooke ©2005

nothing more than a little playing with words