Saturday Night’s Alright For Writing

This is the second parody I made back in 2017. I hadn’t upgraded my darkroom to double as a recording studio at that time, so I recorded it in the dance room using the mics in my computer. The recording wasn’t too bad other than being very tinny. I imported the original sound file into Studio One and clean up the vocals. I think a lot of writers who follow my blog will appreciate this parody.

Saturday Night’s Alright for Writing
Music by Elton John
Lyrics by Timothy Price

It’s getting late I found my PaperMate
I’m procrastinating sitting here
Seventy lines that I gotta pine
I have modifiers dangling near

My old Mac’s bonkers and it’s acting kind of funky
And my old adage is to be clear
My writing is cute like a guy in army Boots
A cowboy hat in his hair
Ohhhhhh

Don’t give us none of your imagination
Write facts be on your discipline
Cause Saturday night’s alright for writing
Let’s get a little action verbiage in

Let’s get about as riled as an op-ed rage
Let’s try to set this page alight
Cause writing on a Saturday night I like
Saturday night’s alright
to write to write
Ooooo oo-oo oh

A lot of words are getting packed in here tonight
I’m looking for a phrase that will seem alright
I might use an antecedent to get what I need
I might bare an infinitive and shout out “conditionally”

Some of the words that I really like
Are future perfect voicing that are out of sight
I’m a high school dropout from the ergative class
Who’s passive voices, dangled modified and got a pass
Ohhhhhhh

Don’t give us none of your imagination
Write facts be on your discipline
Cause Saturday night’s alright for writing
Let’s get a little action verbiage in

Let’s get about as riled as an op-ed rage
Let’s try to set this page alight
Cause writing on Saturday night I like
A Saturday night’s alright
to write to write
Oooooo oo-oo ooh

Freaky Friday! Sweet Child Of The Earth Of Mine

Some people will find this parody really creepy. It will certainly bug the hell out of other people. While a few people might even like the photos and footage of children of the earth, also known as Jerusalem Crickets and Potato Bugs. However you react, you might get a laugh out of me trying to fit “sweet child of the earth of mine” into the space of “sweet child o mine”. The lyrics are at the end of the post.

I was inspired to write the lyrics to this parody in February 2019 when I came across a Child of the Earth out trying to warm itself in the cold winter sun. I’ve worked on and off recording it for the past two and a half years. I got it to what Laurie thinks is a multi-dimensionally bloody awful state about 4 months ago. I was hoping to see a lot of Children of the Earth this summer to get more photos and footage of them, but, alas, no such luck. I borrowed footage from Jerusalem Crickets Only Date Drummers Deep Look, This Potato Bug Eats Everything! (Documentary), Killer Potato Bug Attack, and 9609 New Mexico Child Of The Earth (Another Journey in MyZahs life).

As a consolation prize, below are photos of the pTerodactyl doing a pterodactyl version of a hop, skip, and a jump, and cows in the cornfield.

Sweet Child Of The Earth Of Mine
Parody Lyrics by Timothy Price

It made me sad when I saw its face
Walking along in that lonely place
With a morning light so cold
Sun barely lit the sky

It seemed to shiver and it couldn’t run
trying to warm in that winter sun
And if it stayed too long
It would surely die

Oh-oh-oh! Sweet child of the earth of mine
Oh, oh, oh-oh! Sweet child of the earth of mine

Its eyes were fixed, perfectly still
All-round in the darkest brown
Couldn’t seem to show the pain
Of that cold hard ground

Vulnerable exposed in an unsafe place
Without a place to hide
Try to save it from the freezing pain
Or simply pass it by?

Oh-oh-oh! Sweet child of the earth of mine
Oh, oh, oh-oh! Sweet child of the earth of mine

Ooooooh! Oh-oh-oh! Sweet child of the earth of mine
Oh, oh, oh-oh! Sweet child of the earth of mine

Oh, oh, oh-oh! Sweet child of the earth of mine
Oh, oh, oh-oh! Sweet child of the earth of mine

Where did it go now?
Where did it go now?
Where did it go now?

Where did it go now?
Where did it go now?
Where did it go now?

Where did it go now?
Where did it go now?
Where did it go now?

Where did it go now?
Where did it go?

Where, where did it go now?

Where’d it go?
Where-ere-ere-where did it go now?

Where did it go now?

Where-ere-ere-ere-ere where did it go now?

Where did it go now?

Ooh oh oh where did it go now?

Where did it go?
Where did it go?

Whoa whoa whoa

Tim TALK – Bloody Awful Interviews From The Black Bamboo

The Frumpy Man has started a new series called Tim TALKBloody Awful Interviews From The Black Bamboo. His first interview of one of the members of the AWB is bloody awful. AWB is a little slow and basically tries my ADHD. The interview is 10:27. I won’t be surprised if you can’t get through it, but it does have its moments. The best part for me is the original theme song played on AWB’s new multi-scale, 7 string guitar. AWB butchers his chord demonstration of what you can do with a 7th string. I borrowed his guitar and produced a decent theme song for the video.

If you can’t get through the video, the new guitar has a multi-scale fingerboard, which means it has fanned frets. The 7th string is tuned to B for my purposes, which gives me low C and D chords that are lower than open C and D chords on a 6 string guitar.

Sunrise

Sunset

Coyote Convention

I stepped down onto the sandbar at Beaver Point last night and found myself in the middle of a coyote convention.

Coyotes were playing and fighting on the banks of the Rio Grande.

Click on a photo in the gallery to enlarge in a slide show.

I wrote and recorded Coyotes in 2019. The recordings of the coyotes were made in the bosque at night while surrounded by coyotes yipping and howling.

This one took off on its own stepping over piles of trees and sticks left by the beavers.

He had to take a break to eat some grass and make silly faces while chomping on the grass. Click on the gallery for to enlarge the photos in a slide show.

It’s The Time Of The Season For…

…GREEN CHILE!!!

Back, left to right, front: green chile martini, green chile beer, green chile milk, green chile red wine, green chile margarita, green chile white wine, green chile coffee, green chile amaretto on the rocks.

I got our first sack of green chiles for the 2021 green chile season at Wagner’s Farm this afternoon. Anyone who has followed this blog for any time knows we eat green chile on almost everything. Chile is addictive and goes well with anything as you can see from the drinks above. I wrote and recorded The Capsiacin Club song in early 2019. I acquired the guitar and bass that I put the chile skins on at the same time. Ron Blood recorded a new bass line for the song and added his touches on mixing and mastering the recording. I made and first published the video in September 2019.

The Average White Boys celebrating back in September 2017 with the different green chile enhanced drinks in the photo above.

Flaming. Roasting. Roasted.

Four of the Average White Boys in 2017 after doing an all nighter putting up green chiles and drinking chile enhanced drinks.

Pealing. Pealed. Stemmed and de-seeded.

Bagged. Boxed. In the freezer with rats.

Chupacabra

This is literally a bloody awful music video. Gwendolyn and Glenda have been doing great imitations of Chupacabra. I had to make a parody music for for them with them doing their imitations. This video will definitely give Brian nightmares.

Chupacabra
Lyrics: Timothy Price
Music: John Lennon

Chupacabra’s gonna to get you
He’s going to grab you by the head
He’s going to rip your throat out Mr.
He’ll suck your blood until you’re dead
Why in the hell do you want to park
And walk in the bosque after dark
What do you think you’re trying to prove
Chupacabra he’ll get to you

Chupacabra’s going to get you
He’s going to grab you by the face
Gonna suck all your blood out sister
Take you from the human race
You know you’re never going to be
Saved by a fool not me
Who the hell do you think I am
A Superman
Or Sam I Am

Beware You’ll all die young
From the wounds and the scars and the blood
Chupa he’s the one
Bleeding everyone just for fun

Chupacabra’s gonna to get you
Gonna knock you off your feet
He’ll pull you down asunder
Like everyone he meets
You should not be standing there
You will surely meet disappear
And why it’s not so very clear
That Chupa’s everywhere
He kills and takes his share

Beware You’ll all die young
From the wounds and the scars and the blood
Chupa he’s the one
Bleeding everyone yes everyone
Yeah yeah, alright, uh huh, ah

Beware You’ll all die young
From the wounds and the scars and the blood
Beware You’ll all die young

Beware You’ll all die young
From the wounds and the scars and the blood
Beware You’ll ll die young
From the wounds and the scars and the blood
Beware You’ll all die young
From the wounds and the scars and the blood
Beware You’ll ll die young
From the wounds and the scars and the blood

Beethoven the Beaver

After photographing the red sun falling behind the slipping into its nightly bliss, I walked over the Beaver Point. Lo and behold, the was a beaver sitting on the opposite bank of the Rio Grande grooming to Beethoven’s 5th Symphony. I tried to hold the Bazooka as steady as possible in the low dusk light, capturing video of this classical Beaver, Beethoven the Beaver.

BEGINNINGS. Happy Birthday Glenda, Gwendolyn & America!

Glenda and Gwendolyn were born on July 4, 2020. This marks their first birthday on the same day we Americans celebrate our Country’s 245th Birthday.

I finished the song BEGINNINGS that I have been working on for awhile, and since the song is based on a Saga that includes a creation story, I thought it was a good background for a music video with photographs and video of Glenda and Gwendolyn to celebrate their first birthday. There’s a video of fireworks at the end of the video to celebrate the 4th of July.

BEGINNINGS
By Timothy Price


Based on the Saga

GYLFAGINNING
HERE BEGINS THE BEGUILING OF GYLFI

Before there began
Allfather God of gods was
The ruler of twelve

Lord of Hosts is Host
Spear-Lord Nikarr after Host
Next the Striker strikes

Knows of many things
Fulfiller of Wishes wished
The Far-Speaking One

The Burner burneth
Shaker puts armies to flight
Destroyer destroys

Protector protects
The last of these is Gelding
Twelve names of Ásgard

In the beginning
There was a Beguiling
Our origin told

Licked rime with rough tongue
Made by primordial cow
Udder’s milk life flowed

Oden, his brothers
Killed the Rime-Giant, Ymir
Into yawning void

His blood became sea
Of his flesh the land was made
Gravel, stones from teeth

His skull made heaven
Set it up to cover earth
The corners sits dwarfs

Way points are their names
North, and South, and East and West
No one will get lost

They raised up his brows
And they called the place Midgard
From his brains made clouds

Earth and Heaven made
The sun and constellations
Division made days

When the sons of Borr
Found and took up two trees
They shaped men from these

First spirit and life
Second wit and feelings
Third speech, hearing, sight

Clothing, names they gave
The male was called Askr
The female Embla

Mankind begotten
They dwell under Midgard
Creation tale told

The Goatlet Next Door

The thunderheads building up in the west were taking after Resa’s Tree.

Our neighbor’s goat had a goatlet (kid). The photos in the gallery below were taken this afternoon. The goatlet was 26 hours old when I took the photos. Click on a photo in the gallery for a slideshow.

Laurie holding the goatlet shows how little or big it is for a 26 hour old goatlet

The above video is of thunderheads dancing. Turn up the volume and enjoy the show.

The painter was in a lavender/gray, blue and white mood for the sunset tonight. Looking west.

Sunset looking east.

Frumpy Man

Frumpy Man
Music: Emerson, Lake and Palmer
Lyrics: Timothy Price

He had black mittens
And lawn chairs by the shore
All made of rattan
In red crushed velour

Ooooh, what a frumpy man he was
Ooooh, what a frumpy man he was

White face, skin weathered
A few hairs on his head
Drove an AMC Pacer
In autumn red

Ooooh, what a frumpy man he was
Ooooh, what a frumpy man he was

He liked to roast smores
On a candle while he sang
No honor, no glory
No women what a shame

Ooooh, what a frumpy man he was
Ooooh, what a frumpy man he was

With a Bud Light beside him
He brooded as he sighed
A gutter-ball had cursed him
Into last place, he did slide

Ooooh, what a frumpy man he was
Ooooh, what a frumpy man he was