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Posts Tagged ‘Yvette song’


This is the maple tree you see through the window in my new room of my own ….


Perennials in my front garden

Dear friends and readers,

Izzy and I passed a pleasant the spring Sunday holiday (call it Easter, say it’s still Passover, its beauty is the spring renewal) together and apart today. We went together to see a remarkable post-modern political film, Pablo Lorrain’s Neruda, one of whose main actors is a favorite with both of us. Naturalemente, a blog soon: every film I’ve seen with Gael Garnia Bernal I’ve blogged about. In the later afternoon I alternated from rereading Michael Ondaatje’s extraordinary The English Patient to Anthony Trollope’s Framley Parsonage, and she watches ice-skating and/or tennis, and blogs on Anibundel’s I should have been a blogger. She is now in a sense an equal blogger there. Two sisters together. Our garden is blooming with flowers. We had a good meal last night and this evening left-overs. She cooks, I wash up. Then I walk in the neighborhood, different blocks different nights.

My porch is now a small livable space, a very pretty room, light green walls, white trim, soft carpet (wall-to-wall, first time for me on this kind of thing, a sort of rusty color), and I’m beginning to move furniture into it. Its first small bookcase filled with CDs of books read aloud and DVDs of film adaptations, a cat bed (necessity) a fan on the floor, a ladder to reach high bookcase going to be put against one of the walls … I am not going to try to make it a conventional room for visitors to come, to please other people, but an extension of my study. It’s more living space, more breathing room, more light and air and access to the outside of the house. I’ll take down the shutters from two of the windows in the kitchen and on all four windows facing east have light weight pretty shades easy to pull up and down.

I am happy to be able to hope you have had a good day by sending along her latest song:

Here are the lyrics:

She says “wake up, it’s no use pretending”
I’ll keep stealing, breathing her.
Birds are leaving over autumn’s ending
One of us will die inside these arms
Eyes wide open, naked as we came
One will spread our ashes ’round the yard

She says “If I leave before you, darling
Don’t you waste me in the ground”
I lay smiling like our sleeping children
One of us will die inside these arms
Eyes wide open, naked as we came
One will spread our ashes round the yard

She is playing on her Yamaha PSR-185, Voice Setting #51.

I’m still reading a book which upsets me some: Abigail Tucker’s The Lion in the Living Room. I believe it’s a stealth attack on cats as ruining our environment. Rather like Kate Chisholm’s Hunger Games was a ferocious attack on anorexics; except Tucker pretends to be a cat lover. It insists my sense of my cats as loving me and part of a relationship is a delusion. I know how Jane Goodall would reply, and have to find another book to refute Tucker. It hurts me to be told my cat is not attached to me, not happy, but just wants sex and hunting. Not so. Clarycat grieved over Jim’s death, truly grieved. I saw it. And nowadays Ian Pussycat is my friend-cat-companion too.

Miss Drake

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She sings and plays the Johnny Cash version of the Star Wars version of I’ve been everywhere, Man.

For lyrics and context see her “Archive of My Own:”

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10241828

Miss Drake

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This month’s song: she plays on a Yamaha PSR, Voice Setting #45, 12STR Guitar:

Springsteen’s lyrics:

I get up in the evening
And I ain’t got nothing to say
I come home in the morning
I go to bed feeling the same way
I ain’t nothing but tired
Man I’m just tired and bored with myself
Hey there baby, I could use just a little help

You can’t start a fire
You can’t start a fire without a spark
This gun’s for hire
Even if we’re just dancing in the dark

Message keeps getting clearer
Radio’s on and I’m moving ’round the place
I check my look in the mirror
I want to change my clothes, my hair, my face
Man I ain’t getting nowhere
I’m just living in a dump like this
There’s something happening somewhere
Baby I just know that there is

You can’t start a fire
You can’t start a fire without a spark
This gun’s for hire
Even if we’re just dancing in the dark

You sit around getting older
There’s a joke here somewhere and it’s on me
I’ll shake this world off my shoulders
Come on baby this laugh’s on me

Stay on the streets of this town
And they’ll be carving you up alright
They say you gotta stay hungry
Hey baby I’m just about starving tonight
I’m dying for some action
I’m sick of sitting ’round here trying to write this book
I need a love reaction
Come on now baby gimme just one look

You can’t start a fire sitting ’round crying over a broken heart
This gun’s for hire
Even if we’re just dancing in the dark
You can’t start a fire worrying about your little world falling apart
This gun’s for hire
Even if we’re just dancing in the dark
Even if we’re just dancing in the dark
Even if we’re just dancing in the dark
Even if we’re just dancing in the dark
Hey baby

Miss Drake

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My daughter:

Eve 6,

Sleeping through the evening
Singing dreams inside my head
I’m heading out
I’ve got some friends who say they care
And they just might
Run away with you
If things don’t go as planned
Plannin’ big could be a gamble
I’ve already rolled the dice

I spit and stutter stuff and clutter
Worries in my worried corner
Maladjusted
Just untrusted
Rusted
Sometimes brilliant trusted thoughts
Think ill stay for a while
I’m intrigued and I’m
Red as a newborn white as a corpse

I promise not to try not to fuck with your mind
I promise not to mind if you go your way and I go mine
I promise not to lie if I’m looking you straight in the eye
I promise not to lie and not to let you down

I am elated
I am all smiled and dated
In my man bites dog small town
With a Spanish name
I am my own bone
I am two toned
Red as a newborn white as a corpse

I promise not to try not to fuck with your mind
I promise not to mind if you go your way and I go mine
I promise not to lie if I’m looking you straight in the eye
I promise not to try not to let you down
Girl let me down
Slow

Why do you gotta keep the fan on high when its cold outside?
Just want to let you know I’m still a fan get it
Everybody wants charm in a smile and a promise

Promise not to try

I promise not to try not to fuck with your mind
I promise not to mind if you go your way and I go mine
I promise not to lie if I’m looking you straight in the eye
I promise not to try not to not to leave
(Promise not to try)
Not to leave
(Promise not to try)
Not to not to leave-yay
(Promise not to try)
I won’t leave
I won’t leave

Read more: Eve 6 – Promise Lyrics | MetroLyrics

Perhaps I ought to mention that Izzy loved Dorothy Sayers’s Gaudy Night in which Miss Sylvia Drake is a minor comic character.

Miss Drake

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While I was gone, Izzy added another performance on video to her repertoire:

Sylvia

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TinaBlau_kanal_in_holland (Medium)
Tina Blau (1845-1916, Austrian landscape painter), A canal by the North Sea

Another of Izzy’s songs:

I fancy this is one of the Beatles’ less familiar songs so begin with the lyrics:

I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me…
She showed me her room, isn’t it good, norwegian wood?

She asked me to stay and she told me to sit anywhere,
So I looked around and I noticed there wasn’t a chair.

I sat on a rug, biding my time, drinking her wine
We talked until two and then she said, “It’s time for bed”

She told me she worked in the morning and started to laugh.
I told her I didn’t and crawled off to sleep in the bath

And when I awoke, I was alone, this bird had flown
So I lit a fire, isn’t it good, norwegian wood.

Here is Izzy’s blog, where you can comment if you like. I’ve reblogged it too:

The original album cover:

David-Santy-Norwegian-Wood-This-Bird-Has-Flown-Cover
David Santy, The Bird Has Flown

Miss Drake

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Her first recording with a key change:

At her blog,

Today was yet another cold rainy day (we’ve had almost three weeks of it) and her intention to watch the French Open (Roland Garros) was thwarted.

ClaryasCatloaf
Clarycat catloaf-like availing herself of a rare gleam of sunshine,

Miss Drake

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