Posts Tagged meat
I sang on stage 😳
Posted by Angela Brett in Performances on September 27, 2018
In the last post I mentioned that Joey Marianer and I sang ‘I Love Your Body‘ on the Open Phil Broadcast on Radio Orange. During that interview we promised to perform it at the Open Phil open mic that was coming up, so we did:
You can skip to 6:48 if you don’t want to hear me explaining who Joey is, pretending I’m not thrilled that he sets my words to music, and talking about my YouTube channel and Jonathan Coulton’s transition from code monkey to internet superstar, followed by Joey challenging Lill to a laugh-off and finding good positions for the microphones with help from Grey Sweater Guy.
I set the stage before this with another slightly disturbing love poem, Don’t Slip on the Ice, but it’s not the first time I’ve performed that one on stage, or even the best performance of it on video, so you’ll have to click on the link if you want to see it.
After we finished this song, I cajoled Joey into singing The Elements by Tom Lehrer, which he had previously planned to sing but didn’t feel up to doing in the moment. He got me back for that by getting me to sing it with him when it turned out he was indeed not quite up to it in the moment:
This is one of those songs, like Chicken Monkey Duck (which, technically, I have also sung on stage, but it feels more like a rap), where you can amaze people just by knowing the lyrics, so confidence in singing ability (of which I have very little) is not essential, though it is quite difficult to sing fast enough.
I Love Your Body is a song again, and other news
Posted by Angela Brett in News, Things To Listen To on May 6, 2018
Remember how I wrote a poem called I Love Your Body, and Joey Marianer sang it, and then I wrote another version/parody of the same poem? Well, Joey also sang that version:
In other news, I’ve recorded myself performing at open mics a few times lately, but I’m mostly focusing on uploading JoCo Cruise footage first. I did, however, upload this video of myself performing Mike Phirman‘s song Chicken Monkey Duck:
It’s always a crowd pleaser, and this video also pleased Mike Phirman himself, so that’s great. He deserves to be pleased!
I’m wearing an official Back to the Future hat that I bought from Universal Studios in the year 2015 (the future!) and some leggings made with Chicken Monkey Duck fabric designed by Jade Gordon specifically to go with the song.
On the subject of merchandise, I’ve made my They Might Not Be Giants poster available on Teechip, as that seems to give a better price and shipping than the other platforms it’s on. Ignore the ‘Last day to order’ warning; the campaign restarts automatically. But hey, do order soon if you want to get the poster soon. That’s how causality works, you see.
I’ve also finally started a Bandcamp page — everybody else is doing it, so why can’t I? Right now it just has my ‘Why I Perform at Open Mics‘ rap, but I intend to add many of the other recordings that have been either on The FuMP Sideshow or my long-neglected podcast, just as soon as I gather together lossless versions of everything. The podcast was a pain to update, and I think Bandcamp will be a much easier way for people to find and download all of my recordings.
I’ll also add the recording of They Might Not Be Giants I did for the poster video, and any further recordings of poems, raps, or robot choir or even human-choir songs that I happen to make. Some might feature my musical friends. Most, if not all, will be pay-what-you-like. If you want to know as soon as I add anything, click the ‘Follow’ button on my shiny new bandcamp. Do you have a favourite poem of mine that you’d like a recording of? Let me know, and maybe I’ll make one.
I Love Your Body (a new version!)
Posted by Angela Brett in NaPoWriMo on April 3, 2018
A while ago I wrote a poem called I Love Your Body, about some reasons to love a person’s body that aren’t superficial. Then Joey sang it, because his body can do that. Here’s what could be considered either a parody or a continuation of that poem, illustrating what can happen if you do treat someone’s body like a piece of meat:
I love your body
The way it feels like silk
The way it looks good naked
The way it smells like your perfume
The way it tastes so good in a casserole
I don’t love its flaws
The way its flesh resists my knife
The way its bones don’t decompose
The way it won’t fit in my freezer
The way its leftovers putrefied, and made my neighbour suspicious, and she tipped off the police, and there was a highly publicised trial, and now I’m in prison for life
But I love
that you had it
so that I could have you,
because brains need energy
and there’s no KFC
with home delivery.
I love your body
I hope to hold it forever
and think of you
with a love-filled belly.
So… yeah. That’s a thing I wrote. It may be related to repeated exposure to Tom Lehrer’s ‘I Hold Your Hand in Mine’ recently. It’s based in fact, though; my freezer is very small.
In other news, Alfred Ladylike, who produced my rap about open mics, now has a Patreon. Perhaps you’d like to throw a dollar or ten at it.
Hotel Bacon (Michelle Branch parody)
Posted by Angela Brett in Adventures in Affluent Homelessness on October 13, 2013
This is to be sung to the tune of Hotel Paper by Michelle Branch.
I like mostly just hotel bacon.
Knowing the leftovers would never be consumed.
Raised, erased, their flesh is too tasty to leave here.
so I try not to eat meat but I do.
But I do.
No need to feed pigs the grain for my breakfast.
Sow means, reap none from the future; it’s theft.
I try to stop but it’s free to get this.
I know tomorrow there’ll be nothing left.
And I wanted to be
living in places I could keep living.
But I want luxury,
so I’ll take this hotel, and all it’s serving.
This turned out to cost more than I bargained for,
and I can’t stay in this place another day.
Forgive me; now that I’m baconless like you, I like you.
I just realised it way too late.
And I wanted to be
Living in places I could keep living.
But I got luxury,
So I took this hotel, and all its servings.
(Maybe this temporary retreat is surrender.)
My life’s mostly just hotel bacon.
Ace of Diamonds: Fork and Tongs, the play
Posted by Angela Brett in 52 ways to say I love you, Writing Cards and Letters on March 9, 2009
No new writing this week, just a video and mp3 of my reading a love poem I wrote previously. What can I say? I was only following instructions. I chose this one because it’s more finished than the love poem I wrote last week, I’ve already read it for an audience, and I have all the props required.
I didn’t particularly want to put it on YouTube, since it’s my first video featuring me and I’m kind of self-conscious about it, but I couldn’t find a decent host for it elsewhere. So you’ll just have to suffer through it.
There might be a more novel ace of diamonds next week; one of the cards is perfect for a final Thing. In any case, there will be a second joker, and then this adventure will be over. It won’t be my last adventure, though. Among other things, I’ll probably continue making recordings of Things. Let me know if there are any Things in particular that you’d like recordings of, or any of the Things-with-tunes that you’d like to sing if I sent you the tune I had in mind. There are a few Things I don’t think my robot choir can do justice to. To make it easier for people to follow them, I’m setting up a podcast for them and any similar audio I might produce in the future. It’s not up yet due to various technical problems with the host I planned to use, but I hope to get it working eventually.
Ten of Spades: The Fungus Who Ruled the World
Posted by Angela Brett in Pilze, Writing Cards and Letters on May 11, 2008
I am the master of my environment. The king of the fifth kingdom. My sweet chestnut tree delivers all the nutrients I need. I have no need for even a brain to live in this paradise on a lesser creature. Nothing needs to change; even in the far future, if my tree dies, my descendents can continue to feed on it. This forest belongs to us.
With food security like this, it does not matter that I am incapable of surviving without my host. I have everything I need. I do not need to move, I do not wish to move, and, because a perfect design has no superfluous features, I have no ability to move.
And yet, I am moving. I am being pulled from my life source. Pulled by something even more powerful than myself.
I can no longer pretend that I am the master of my environment, above the rest of the animal kingdom. I can not go on as a parasite on less fortunate creatures, raising and killing them just because I have a big enough brain to know how. Something has to change. There are simply not enough resources to continue transforming large amounts of food into small amounts of meat. I want something to be left for my descendents. This forest belongs to nobody, and we have no right to destroy it for pasture.
I’m perfectly capable of surviving without meat. I can get all the nutrition I need from fruits, vegetables, chestnuts from the forest, mushrooms… ah, now here’s a beef steak I can eat without troubling my conscience.
I pull the beefsteak fungus from the treetrunk and take it home for dinner. I need not exercise my power over nature tonight.
Eight of Spades: Fork and Tongs
Posted by Angela Brett in The Best of Switzerland, Writing Cards and Letters on April 27, 2008
You’re not like all those other tools,
fond only of their wieners.
Yet even as your fire cools,
I see a snag between us.
Why won’t you be my Montague?
I’d be your Juliet.
I see you at the barbecue
That pig, I’d like to pierce her through,
and feed her to the cat.
She’s full of tripe, she smells of poo,
The wurst, a spoiled brat.
She sizzles near your tenderloins,
that visc’ral vivisection.
My tines vibrate as she purloins
the flames of your affection.
I come in closer, she’s dead meat.
I touch you with a tine.
You see my points, I feel your heat,
and briefly, we entwine.
And then I see the sausage roll
to ashes in disgrace.
It’s my turn now, I’ll take control,
I vow, I’ll take back space.
We’re stronger than the sausage link,
I’ve seen our stars align.
And later in the kitchen sink,
I know that you’ll be mine.
Seven of Spades: Happy, Ending
Posted by Angela Brett in Flowers and Animals, St James's Gate, Writing Cards and Letters on April 20, 2008
This is the story of the happy ending,
where Mary and her little lamb play.
Of lamb, from human girl befriending,
to lessons in happiness stray.
Where Mary and her little lamb play
it’s tiring, so Mary would take it
to lessons, in happiness, stray.
A lamb, what a day it would make it!
It’s tiring, so Mary would take it
Said Father that very same night.
A lamb! What a day. It would make it?
That it would just wake, be alright!
Said Father that very same night
“You’ll bury what’s left.” No impression
that it would just wake, be alright,
its grave but a little depression.
You’ll bury what’s left no impression;
the sick one had not been her friend.
It’s grave, but a little depression
would not bring her world to an end.
The sick one had not been her friend,
she prayed in her panic that he
would not bring her world to an end.
He slaughtered the neighbours, not Mary.
She prayed in her panic that he
would not murder, hurt a loving soul mate.
He slaughtered the neighbours, not Mary.
The friends survive, rejoice, and ruminate.
Would not murder hurt a loving soul, mate?
No matter if a stranger, or a roast?
The friends survive, rejoice, and ruminate
why it’s okay to lose the farthermost.
No matter if a stranger or a roast
of lamb. From human girl befriending:
Why, it’s okay to lose the farthermost.
This is the story of the happy, ending.