A Recipe, A Song & Some Whine


Jumpin’ J-Lo, I haven’t posted in an entire month.

Quite frankly, I’ve had the blues. We’ve been struggling with struggles lately. Nothing huge—just the mundane, day-to-day worries that plague the semi-poor, like home repairs, taxes, allergies, bed head and the future of humankind. Worst of all, I seem unable to write much more than the words, “I can’t write.” It’s been an awful cycle—I can’t write because I’m blue, and I’m blue because I can’t write. Blue’s one of my favorite colors, but holy hell, this isn’t even a pretty shade. My writer’s block is the color of mold. 

It’s been weird, because usually when I’m down, creativity is what brings me out of it. But these days, I’ve created little more than a new recipe.

New Recipe:

8 Ritz Crackers

1 glob of peanut butter

Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup

Directions: Smear peanut butter onto four of the crackers. Pour one drip of syrup onto the remaining ones. Smush each PB cracker together with a chocolate cracker and enjoy.

I have written a couple of songs, but I’m hesitant to post them because it’s hard to get the entire picture without the tune. It’s like handing you a mug and asking you to imagine coffee. Tragically, my singing usually sounds like Mercedes McCambridge with a head cold, and even if I did record it, I’d never figure out how to get the thingamajiggy into the whattayacallit to transfer it the Internet. The one song I did post here was thanks to a patient friend, who burned it to a CD.

But it bothers me that I haven’t posted for so long, so I’ll share some lyrics anyway. I’ll have to do it from memory, because I fried my laptop a few weeks ago and lost most of my work. Stories, poems, books-in-progress, photos, videos and rough recordings of songs I’d saved on Audacity–poof! Frizzled like a squirrel on a transformer. A friend of a friend is trying to perform lifesaving CPR on the motherboard—if you’re the praying sort, please commence.

Have I mentioned I’ve had the blues?

Back to songwriting. Amadeus and I have this habit of throwing out lines to each other, spontaneous prompts that we think might fit into a song. If it grabs one of us, little cogs in our heads start squeaking and turning, and sometimes we create something we like. To outsiders, conversations at our house would sound insane. Example:

Me:  I need to figure out what to make for dinner.

Amadeus: Bird on a telephone wire.

Me: Oooooh….(starts writing)

One night, he said:  “If I had to do it all again.” I waited for him to finish the sentence, then realized it was a song prompt. Immediately, my head filled with images, like a scene from a movie. I saw a sad, wealthy woman in a New York penthouse. She stood in front of a glowing fireplace and her living room was all done up in shades of red. Her sofa was a cream color, with printed pillows and a decorative throw draped in a tasteful-yet-casual way over the back. She was tall, beautiful and terribly lonely. Her jewelry and shoes were amazing. 

It’s the weird way my brain works (when my weird brain’s working). Amadeus says something that sparks something and off we go.  I picked up the guitar, plinked out the first few notes, then started writing lyrics. Amadeus fine tuned the tune and we debated back and forth over the mechanics of it. Within half an hour or so, we’d given birth to a little baby song.  It’s a downer, but I like it. We performed it at an art gallery event a few weeks ago, and I’m proud to say that no one vomited and no one fled. 

If I Had To Do It All Again

If I had to do it all again,

I’d do it differently,

If I knew how this was gonna end,

I’d never have agreed,

to put aside the part of me,

that wanted love so desperately,

‘cause even though you live with me,

you’re never really here with me,

and though I did it willingly,

this lonely life is killing me,

If I had to do it all again,

I’d do it differently.

 

Flames can turn to ember

but they’re burning just the same,

why can’t we remember

the beginning of this game?

We blazed with love, so dazed with love

at night you called my name,

our paradise has turned to ice,

what happened to the flames?

If I had to do it all again,

I’d do it differently.  

(break, repeat verse 2)

© 2013 Moonbeam McQueen

That poor, poor penthouse woman.  And I thought I had problems. 

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8 thoughts on “A Recipe, A Song & Some Whine

  1. Welcome back. :)

    Thanks, Eric. :)

  2. Pat . says:

    I like the post, but sorry to hear of all your troubles.
    I have missed you – welcome back :-)

    Thanks so much, Pat. The troubles are minor, except that pesky brain thing. Still not sure I’ll be posting much until it passes, but I’m very glad to see you. :)

  3. David says:

    Sorry about the blueness. I like that song a lot though- wish I could hear the tune … Also like the way your weird brain works, even in its darker states.

    I hope your friend is able to recover your computer. :) My offer remains open. Your hard drive likely contains all your documents in a recoverable state even if the computer is completely dead.

    I have not been moved to post in well over a month either. :( Even though I had ten days off in the midst of this dry spell.

    Awww, it’s okay. I read somewhere that blueness is the result of change–a natural reaction, and the end result can be great. I usually shake it fairly quickly, and it doesn’t interfere with creative pursuits. This time’s a bit different, and I’m just trying to roll with it. But the writing…ugh. That’s making me sad. I could write a thousand words on it, which I guess means that I can still actually write, though it would all probably be a bunch of boring drivel (kind of like this, only longer).

    As for blogging–I dunno. I think we should both keep our shops open. It’s a great outlet for thoughts too big to post on FB or Twitter (and a place for you to share your gorgeous photos and unique take on the world). It ebbs and flows.

    Thank you so much for your offer–I won’t forget. If this guy can’t bring it back to life, I’ll let you know. The longer I go without it, the more I remember important things that are on it. It amazes me how much of my life is on that thing, and how many hours of work it represents!

    Big hugs, dude.

  4. Kendall says:

    I’m happy to see you, even though you’re singin the blues on behalf of some rich woman in New York. I guess it’s easier than singing the blues for yourself, although I find you much more interesting than she is. I’m glad you didn’t put blue cheese on the ritz crackers along with the pb & chocolate. That would have been a really bad idea. I love you, Moonbeam, and we all go through phases.

    I’m happy to see you too, you precious little Kendall, you. I know what you mean about that New York chick. I do feel sorry for her, but you know, when it all ends, she’ll probably end up with $30 million in the settlement, which I imagine will ease her pain tremendously.

    Think I’m coming out of the slump. Fingers crossed. I love you too.

    (Writing this while dining on the Ritz cracker recipe. It’s brunch. Now curious about bleu cheese and chocolate.)

  5. randomyriad says:

    I understand the blues and not writing. The whirling tide of daily life is
    too high sometimes and covers thoughts, makes us reacting machines working so hard to keep on top of it. I am feeling this way much of the time now. I hope your tide uncovers some treasures for you to find when the beach is dry.

    Ugh. It shtinks, doesn’t it? I think that whirling definitely has an effect. Thank you for the good thoughts. I think the tide’s ebbing–at least I hope so.

    P.S. Sorry for the delay on answering this- for some reason, WP has stopped notifying me of comments.

  6. NanLeah says:

    Lovely MoonBeam,
    You’re so right about change. Right now a door is closing and another is slamming open. And you’re right in the middle of it. Feeling it, experiencing and sharing it. Love that you turn towards, and not away. And I do love your song. Can’t have dark without the light.
    Beautiful.

    A lot of adjustments and changes these days, to be sure. Those doors are flapping like bird’s wings! It’ll all be fine in the end–it always is. It’s the in-between part that sometimes rusts my writing wheels, but I think they’re starting to slowly turn again.

    P.S. I’m glad you liked the song, (((NanLeah))). You’re a sweetheart.

  7. mrs fringe says:

    Oh, Moonbeam. I’ve been on a kinda sorta break too. Haven’t written in too many days now, but I’m trying not to beat myself up, and instead, let myself heal. This of course led me here. You’ve got the blues too. ((((Hugs)))) Your lyrics had me crying, something I’ve been doing too much of recently. And I don’t even have a penthouse. ;)

    Wishing you peace, my friend.

    (((((((Mrs. Fringe))))))). We need to commiserate over beer. I believe we’d cheer up, and return to kick-ass mode. I hope by now your tears have stopped. When I sing that song, I cry too, though I’m not sure if it’s because of the song itself, or because of the voice that’s putting it out. ;) Sending you all the happy thoughts I can muster.

  8. Cindy Grigg says:

    Hi, Moonbeam. I’ve been missing you — where have you been? Maybe you’ve been songwriting – do you know about the Arkansas Tourism contest? Take a look: http://www.arkansas.com/song-of-arkansas/
    Seriously, you need to post again soon. I need more humor in my life!
    Cindy

    Hi Cindy! I’ve been lamenting not getting over here sooner. Life has been nuts! My writing has taken a weird detour for the moment (but I have been doing some songwriting). Haven’t been feeling at all funny. Winter’s given me the grays. That’s my disclaimer–I’ve been thinking about posting some songs here, but they’re all bummers, man.

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