Posted by: Artsy Squibbles | July 23, 2006

Dancing with Words?

What is it that makes me tick?

I ask myself this question on occasion. What inspires me to write. It isn’t money, though this would be a pleasant way of receiving applause.

I’ve been to a few open mike readings and feel quite comfortable with my speaking voice. My new job position is answering phones and data entry.

Something I consider grist for the mill.

I have one hour and thirty minutes to type something in this space. Something of value to my sense of purpose, my reason for existing on this planet above and beyond the normal call of motherhood.

The sun is shining, the breeze blows through the open window that the cat is sleeping at…and my coffee is getting cold.

My yahoo account was compromised and I spent most of yesterday in damage control mode. The account may have to be deleted. I don’t know yet. The situation is still the same this morning. Double damn!
As I went to sleep last night I was thinking, again, about a couple of different characters for two scripts that I’ve been dwelling on…in. Yes, in. I become one with these characters while writing dialogue, then I become the director as I see the movement take shape. The dance of words. Communication. I couldn’t sleep and got up to jot down the phrases that were being pitched at breakneck speed between my ears. Talk about a good nights sleep?

But here, at this moment I feel the twinge, the riggle in the foot of a rythmic get it out of your system…

And dancing with words comes to mind.

I seek, and I will find a pattern to follow

a space to fill

a word, a phrase, a sentence to till,
to allow

a waltz, slow and warm that rolls across the tongue like the sun making its way into the dawn.

I seek and I will find a pattern to follow

a space to fill

a word, a phrase, a sentence to thrill,
to allow

a cha cha as I run to keep up with the down pour, heavy drops, pelting, pouring, screaming scores of antonyms and homonyms

and hymns to the page and pen.

I seek and I will find a pattern to follow

a space to fill

a word, a phrase, a sentence to feel,
to allow
a tango in tennis shoes, to real with the muse, so I won’t lose the rythm and the pace of life.

I seek and I will find a pattern to follow

a space to fill

a word, a phrase, a thought to distill,
to allow

a jitterbug for babies to hug, simple and sweet, to make the feet, and metre, easy to hear.

I seek and I will find a pattern to follow

a space to fill

a word, a phrase, a dream to instill,

to allow

a lullabye, to make you cry, make you dream and float in time, unaware that you are here and I am there…and we are in this world together. Dancing.
I seek and I will find a pattern to follow

a space to fill

a word, a phrase, a sentence

to allow dancing for us all.
Capri, thank you for the interest.

All writing Copyright 2006 KB MCANELLY

Oh..Heaven help me. My life is about to be twisted and warped into something I may not be able to handle. At least I’ve had one good nights sleep before the train wreck happens.
I am going to be working a night shift position. I am day person. I love my mornings and my days. Quiet, sunrise, coffee, no talking, the chirps and trills of the birds waking. Which I have noticed actually begins around 4am around here with one particularly loud Mockingbird. And mind you I have only been awake at that time of the morning because the computer is in my bedroom and my daughter is on the computer at that time. That is the whole of it. She is night and I am day. She is a vampire, to borrow a description used by Michael (Meatloaf)Aday for Jim(Really!)Steinman, and I am not. As to my days…she sleeps through these. And so there has been a reasonable amount of peace in this valley. Not anymore!
I’d like to note that one of my other children, now in their early thirties (yeah, I’m getting up there) is also a night person…though not by choice.
She’s ecstatic that I will be working nights and she’ll have access to this beast while I am out foraging for the almighty dollar instead of berries. That almighty buck is for bills…not capes and frills. I am beginning to develop that “whatever” attitude about the entire situation. This is not healthy. And so we plug along trying to communicate the only way we know how…through music and lyrics. Yeah, really. She finds a song that means something to her and shares this expecting me to read her mind. A Louisiana Metal band is one favorite with extreme and deeply scarred lyrics. What’s a mother supposed to do? Listen!
What really surprised me was when she played a song by a Finnish band, Sonata Arctica, and said I should do a video to this. I listened and she was right. I should. Will I have the time now that I’m working forty hours a week and traveling another twenty by bus to get to and from this great job that will keep me up all night? We’ll see. If she does a few extra, cough…cough, chores around here, well then, I might.
At this time I am working on creating two sets of songs, on speculation without his knowledge (unless in the unlikely event that he reads this blog) for Kevin Spacey. He became the Artistic Director of The Old Vic Theatre in London about two years ago. Well, on the July 4th Charlie Rose Show, Mr. Spacey was describing a Ponto [pawn-tow] (parody and pantomime) and that they plan to produce Cinderella in December of 2007. My college courses were primarily in set and costume design so I have been plugging away a bit at a time. Lyrics, character dialogue and development, and costumes. That’s what I do best.  Not computers, not phones, not data entry. Not nights.

So here I am at this computer, that I have named Beast. If one can name a car…and this is my vehicle. You understand the battles I may be having. Like the yahoo account that seems to have been taken control of by an alien, aka unknown source. I still can’t log on. Every single time I’ve been on my account in the last two months a pop up saying I am being signed out because I have signed onto another device or computer.  Uh, I don’t have another device or computer. What the F***! Yes, I am really pissed with Yahoo! They can send my ID to my other email acct. But they can’t send me my password! What the hell is wrong! I guess I’ll have to close the account. I would much rather access it, get my photos of my grandson, and delete the damn thing and never have anything to do with Yahoo again! So on that note…
It’s a beautiful morning. Cicadas are humming. The sky is still blue and I have chores to do and errands to run. And lots of creative plans to work on. This ought make for my last pleasant day…spent awake.  The upside to this new job…on a slow nigt I can use the computer for my writing. You can bet on this…I will be finishing a play before the winter arrives! Nights. Psshht!
Happy Posting!

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Responses

  1. Ten years later…in a whiney voice. “Did I write that?”


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