Longhand post

Hi, world! Tonight, on a humongous full-moon night, I’m going old-school, writing this longhand, hanging out with vacationing pals in Wisconsin, and trying to fight off horrid stomach cramps. I could try scanning and uploading this so you could look at my atrocious handwriting…or not.

Acoustic music is going on; a young woman sings and plays a digital piano mockup. Onto a chorus, again. And it looks as if I clap for all songs.

I might run for bathroom pit stops on many occasions, but I can just start and stop writing, so you won’t know. Lucky you, avoiding such gory particulars. Cramps stink.

I am writing with ink-my wood writing tools don’t work (I had no occasion to snap such in furyfor months now. I ought to dump stuff out of my backpack now and again), and I think I’m out of black ink. But this is good. I am most fond of this color. I cannot point out which color it is, but, you know.

Wi-fi is on in this joint. I could log on to find Cubs info. I could stick around for up to two hours, but I don’t know if I want to go on writing (longhand) that long. I could put stuff on my tool for making calls, but this is kind of fun. Or would bring fun, if my dumb stomach didn’t hurt.

Hmm, I could try writing out lipogrammatic lyrics to pop songs now, to show how many crossouts I would put in. (This will not truly show how slow it is, though.) I could ask my pals for songs to parody.

Upon discussing this, I will do a song I know and am particularly fond of. I’ll call it “What About All Of This” (not actually what you should call it). Ok…

No holiday sound on this road
But stubborn snapshots of gold*
That didn’t fall back in fall
And go on rustling in vain.
Holiday sky, midnight cold.
Wind is high, I grow old.
Old windows rustling, groaning as if in pain.
Looking for a stop, for living’s always so brisk.
I try to climb up on top, always a thing I must risk
Anything’s always so far, what about my stupid car?
What about my story so far?
What about my goal?
What about…

What about all of this?
What about hug and kiss and
What about ghost ships that still haunt?
What about…
What about a moon and stars?
What about a captain’s fighting scars
And his mad look, so thin and gaunt?
I am not in want.

Go along, nobody will mind.
You and I can go out and find
If I was right on that night,
That finish to my old past.
Don’t sit wasting a day
Watching it float away
It’s school and work and now what
If it’s dying that’s cast.
Think about hours for fun
Think about hours for play–
And about this world having won.
Got nothing to say.
If I cannot pass my buck,
What about glory and luck?
Or convincing you I don’t suck?**
What about a ring?
What about…
(to chorus)

No holiday sound on this road.
But for my song and my moan
All my town’s harbor lights bright
With sailboats rustling in vain.
Holiday sky, midnight cold.
Wind is high, strong and bold.
I find it hard to complain
If I think of
What about…
…What about Martians and
What about you and us, and
What about falls, a brook, a font?
What about…
What about buildings that fall?
What about that loud midnight call
About goings-on that will daunt?
I am not,
I am not,
I am not in want.

I’m going to stop and go on wifi now (9:30).

9:40. My thing won’t pick up this wifi signal. But I could borrow a laptop for surfing. What’s truly good is that my stomach is not so bad now! So I am happy. I thought I had cash to buy a snack with, but it looks as if I don’t, oops.

Oh, looks as if I was actually lugging a dollar around in my backpack. But that is not what I had in mind.

Music is wrapping up now. No singing, just playing, which is good. I’m not a big fan of a lot of songs…lyrically too (stop writing, clap along with rhythm, start up again) boring. I do not want information about your romantic liaison, particularly if I cannot distinguish it from any radio song. I don’t mind many songs without lyrics, though.

Now it’s just a CD or mp3 playing. Again, no lyrics, so I’m a fan.

(Postscript: Again I would stop at that point. Just typing it up now. I got a snack, too! And Cubs won!)

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