Because I have been chatting about songs …
Because my immediate present is boring …
Because if I don’t type I’ll go mad(der) and typing to oneself is cra(zy. Um, for a little while at least the kids were using cra-cra, yes, I know, wtf, but, well I’m just going cra in the singular and I added the (zy) because if cra-cra is ridiculous than cra is half ridiculi) …
I used to sing a lot when I was hitch-hiking. Not to entertain others, god no. I could make money being paid not to sing, but it’d have to be in some place where the patrons couldn’t escape like a submarine or an elevator. On a plane my singing, I believe, gives an air marshall the right to shoot. I might be mistaken but in the seventies, when I did the bulk of my long distance hitch hiking, they didn’t have air Marshalls, at least not the quantity they have now. Doesn’t matter, they still don’t have air Marshalls in random cars that pass hitch-hikers. I could just be paranoid, they might not shoot me for singing on a plane, but I think they’d be allowed to use all force necessary.
Um, my niece got kicked off a plane recently. I only heard the part of the story where she was in the right. I’m thinking eye witness’s missed that part.
So, I used to sing mostly to myself and the wildlife. One possible example of how badly I sing; I was never attacked by wild-life. Silly as that sounds I really did walk in areas with bear, moose, wild horses (all mostly vegetarians) wolves (It takes a damn hungry pack of wolves to attack a human and, again, I made a scary sound) gators (ok, I wasn’t in the water, but still, those things can crawl on land) snakes (I’m not sure how snakes and gators hear things) and you know, I’m hear not to tell a tale. Well, I could, I spotted all those things, but, you know, I looked at them they looked at me, we sauntered away.
I sang a lot of folksy shit that, in theory, would work acappella. There are a lot of folk and blues songs about coming and going, usually there’s a chick or family involved. Oh, shit, I’ve had a song waiting that is one of the exceptions and it’s coming up in a sec here, but I just remembered one I kept for especially lonesome desert roads. Let me see if I can find it.
Yay! I found a version, a little to polished, but it works. One thing at a time though.
I often type that hitch-hiking the country can be explained as romantic. I mean that in the sense of adventure, the sense of intimacy, the sense of danger, not seduction for sex. Of course that sort of stuff happened from time to time, but I think of it as separate. Getting laid on the road isn’t any different than getting laid at home, and though sometimes the allure of a stranger and going ones separate ways makes for obvious bedfellows, often it does not. And, again, there’s plenty of strangers at home wherever the hell that is.
The song immediately below is what I think of and scared off wildlife with when the sort of sordid events of the paragraph above occurred.
I don’t know, even in theory it doesn’t lend itself well to acapella, but the upside to being a bad singer is that everything I try works equally well, that is to say, poor.
The one below was what I affected in some other paragraph, that is typed that I had just thought of it. It’s true but the typing was an affectation. This was for particularly lonesome desert nights.
Yeah, ok, so there it is.
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