This low-budget cover/discount filk brought to you by Kiva, the charity for folks who can't afford to give to charity (it's a system that lets you loan money to people who don't need very much and only need it temporarily).

People seem to really not want to be forgotten, even by people they haven't seen in ages. I don't quite understand that. I don't particularly want to be forgotten, but I don't think it's bad news either. People remember you as you were - remember when the kindest thing to write in someone's yearbook was "don't ever change?" But we do. People grow and learn. People remember who you aren't any more, as you used to relate to who they aren't any more (hopefully!)

Sometimes I think that I shook off the need to be remembered early because there was nobody around that I thought I'd remember very clearly! I've always been something of a snob, even as a little kid. I want to make a difference, but not to perpetuate my name or face, just because I like the idea of efficacy. Anyway, here's an Oysterband lyric.

We could leave right now
Telfer/Prosser

Lyrics from: Trawler

We could leave right now
we could just walk away
it wouldn't cost a thing
hardly anyone would see
the wind would hide our tracks
the clouds would fill our shoes
don't be afraid
don't be afraid

We could leave right now
any step could be the first
any word could be the last
any door would do
we can forget our names
forget each other's faces
don't be afraid
don't be afraid

Put down the music and talk
your rumours and regrets
fading silhouettes
all you need to do is walk away …

We could leave right now
maybe it's getting light out there
papers in the alley
just a little rain
we can forget our names
forget each other's faces
don't be afraid
don't be afraid

I'm usually pretty hush-hush about my birthday, mostly because I'm a lousy correspondent and don't want to be remembering some people's birthdays and skipping others' so I just kind of ignore the whole birthday thing. But this year I started using Facebook and they offered a pretty cool ulterior motive for revealing the anniversary of my arrival on this planet... so instead of sending me a greeting (I'll be on my way to the Mystic Sea Music Festival anyway), click the link and see if it's something that appeals to you...

...can be made here.

Yes, for those for whom it's a natural and heartfelt choice. But not as a cultural default, and especially not pushed on people to start so young that they don't even know themselves yet!

However, being one for whom it was NOT a natural and heartfelt choice, I penned years ago:

O! the joy, and O! the rapture!
O! the certainty of capture!
Time might in its blindness blight us,
Yet we rule its tired detritus.
Though the years might make me plainer
You'll not dare change your demeanor
But you'll feign devotion steady
'Til I yawn "Enough already!"
Though the world may find me wiser
With my gifts I'll play the miser
Showing just enough to frighten
What e'en Fate could not enlighten.
So, resigned, the world we'll tackle
Hand to hand and chain to shackle
Taut, resentful, false, impure,
Miserable but secure.

I dreamed that a golden eagle, who was already in difficult circumstances (fell through the glass roof of a hotel breakfast bar) picked up my foot and wrapped the curve of her beak around it. I said something apprehensive, and someone else (who seemed to know something about eagles) said "No, she's not trying to hurt you." And it was true - it was just uncomfortable because eagles' beaks and talons are so sharp to start with. I wondered what she meant by it. I was awed by her restraint, under the circumstances (she also had 3 chicks to worry about).

It was part of a long, interesting dream about New Orleans, where I found out that the Colonial-themed inn I was visiting was going to be turned into a sex toy shop/cafe. I was bummed, as I liked it the way it was. Also it was cloudy, damp, and dark evening, which is unusual in that my dreams are almost always sunny and noonish; but that could be because I'd opened the window and the weather here is definitely like it was in the dream.

...and gets the point across to people who've never experienced sexual abuse. Not recommended for those who have.



And, of course, if it gets you hot and you feel the need to trumpet about it, why, go right ahead. Wouldn't want to fail to be inclusive, after all.

Nathan Phelps' speech to the American Atheists' Convention, The Uncomfortable Grayness of Life. If you were ever tempted to fault the family members who perpetuate Phelps' hatred in the name of Jesus, this read is a must (but not at work, and preferably with a box of tissues handy). Not recommended for those who can't handle violence.

Disclaimer: I'm not an atheist and probably never will be. But I respect Nathan Phelps' choice of that path, and anyone's.

April 23 is Talk Like Shakespeare Day, so here's a link to the Shakespeare Insults Generator. What good is an insult if they can understand it, anyway?

I recently learned that the only commercially produced CD with my actual voice on it, Attrition's Heretic Angels, is being remastered and re-released with all new artwork. (My voice is just at the beginning, introducing the band.) It's funny, thinking back to my heyday when I was living beyond my means, and just doing what I was good at and enjoyed regardless of whether I could break even. It almost seems like a dream, or at least longer ago than it really was. I don't feel like a different person, just sort of turned down, damped, slinking around under a bushel basket, still basically me but hard to recognize. I'm quiet and courteous, but it doesn't seem insincere. I'm not reserved because I think what I have to say is unworthy, but rather because I no longer have much to say at all. I'm just shapeshifted, a chameleon in a cardboard box, a grouper swimming through a black and white reef wondering when all the colors will come back, but still me. All the heretic angels. You know who you are. If we're needed again, I suppose we'll find out. If not, we'll get by.

But worth it! If you've already seen it a million times - well, then you won't click on it, will you?

It's the only even remotly funny thing I've ever seen on College Humor, though. The rest of the site is a waste.

This is Smudge as a kitten! So the crazy radioactive eyes aren't just a product of a lifetime of overindulging in catnip...

In other news, Windex cleans dirty fridge handles and cabinet doors. More notably, I care. It must be getting brighter down here...

Today I was typing the transcript of a Harvard Business School professor interviewing an entrepreneur. He asked the entrepreneur, how do you define success? The entrepreneur replied, the delta between your expectations and your situation. When the prof didn't quite follow, he elaborated. Finally the prof replied, in a flawless debate-team-captain Gotcha tone, "So it's good to have low expectations?" The entrepreneur explained once again that success is indeed a personal determination, and that expectations can be tailored to align with circumstance. The prof was just nonplussed.

Smudge may look like he's not getting much done, but I finally figured out what his job is.

I basically traded in my personal efficacy for the privilege of leaping off the housemate scary-go-round, so now I can have a home that's a home and not just a second job, but for the price of being too broke and having too little free time to make a difference in the world. That's where Smudge comes in. He's very much real, my own little emanation of the World, and I can get him healthy, keep him safe, and make him happy. It makes me feel a lot less like a figment of my own imagination!

I dislike the ramifications of being reliable in this culture. It tends to prompt other humans to drop the ball, to find an "I Can't" in the slightest hint of difficulty or to just decide it's inefficient and unfair for them to hold up their end when there's someone else so competent about. Smudge doesn't do that. Cats don't give a fig for culture. They don't probe for a weak spot and then go for the underbelly. Smudge is who he was when he moved in, and he never punishes me for being kind. That's his job, and he's Employee of the Month every time.

Historical costume enthusiasts, joyous exhibitionists, and unapologetic lechers, be advised that the Great Boston Burlesque Expo and Vintage Fashion Fair is this weekend! Pick up some new dance moves, find out more about choreography, and see the stars in action. Come as you are - I've got the sparklies and feathers!

I used to feel sorry for people who seemed to have nothing to talk about but TV shows. But now that I can't really afford to do much besides work, I have nothing to talk about at all! I suppose TV is all a lot of us can afford to do any more, in between juggling shaky jobs or looking for new ones, dealing with family, and trying to find someone to buy our stuff. I'm still not tempted to get one, but I feel like I've learned something important.