Modern Man

In the quiet afternoon of the coffee shop Cole starts singing loudly, "Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto. Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto. Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto."

We are finished with our coffee and I quickly head for the exit.

"Excuse me, was your son just singing Styx?" asks the man in the suit holding the door.

"Well, yes." "And if you're lucky he'll break into "Come Sail Away" next.

"Chuckle, chuckle," says the man.

"Man I love this kid," I think to myself. Another 4 o'clock gone by. Rainy afternoon sunshine. All because of a four-year-old kid in a coffee shop singing Styx. Utter horror. Utter embarrassment. Utter delight.

Addendum:

"Cole, where did you learn that song?"

"From the internets."

Of course. From the internets.

Daughter

Recently I watched Knocked Up a movie about a sassy, career motivated E! reporter getting knocked up by and with a goofy, loveable and broke website developer. I am a semi-fan of The 40-Year-Old Virgin and Knocked Up is done by the same people.

As can be guessed, at the end of this movie a baby is born. A baby is born and I cry. I almost always cry when babies are born and so I cried when this movie baby was born, its movie birth reminding me of the live and in stereo births of my three babies, the births of my friends' babies, the births of all babies.

I first heard Loudon Wainwright III's version of "Daughter" at the end of this movie. Naturally I cried. Probably because I have two daughters and probably because I'm a sap. Then I went and found the song. Then I read a bit about LWIII. Then I read a bit about his children with Kate McGarrigle, Rufus and Martha, also singer-songwriters. I found lyrics to Martha's song "Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole" which is supposedly about her father and begins "poetry is no place for a heart that's a whore."

After all of this reading and listening, I stopped reading and I stopped listening.

Until the other day while writing the daughter knitting post. I decided to find out more about the song "Daughter," my recent obsession with music history the direct result of a terrifically late discovery about 'Til Tuesday and Aimee Mann (Does my growing up Mormon in Salt Lake City in the 80s explain anything?)

I found this:

"Daughter" was written by Peter Blegvad, a singer-songwriter who used to play with the avant-rock combo Henry Cow in the '70s and the Golden Palominos in the '80s. "Daughter" comes from his 1995 album, Just Woke Up.

I have no idea what kind of a parent LWIII was/is. I will not pass judgment. Parenting is fucking hard. My children could very well write a song about me someday and it might not be pretty.

But I'd be lying if I didn't say that I'm happy that "Daughter" was penned by a man whose "lyrics frequently feature word games, literary references and complex and extended rhyme schemes. He can also claim credit for one of the world's longest grammatically-correct palindromes (from Kew. Rhone.):

Peel's foe not a set animal laminates a tone of sleep" (this about the lyrics and palindrome from the ever-semi-reliable source Wikipedia).

And because I am a freak and geek I am now going to listen to Blegvad's "Daughter" followed by Wainwright's "Daughter" followed by Martha Wainwright's "M.B.F.A."

I do not recommend that you do the same.

Geeks click here.

About Time

Ball of Mush or Bowl of Mush or Old Lady Whispering Hush

If I say something to you and you can't figure out what I'm saying or think to yourself "Now that's odd," I have an explanation. I've been listening to In Rainbows and it's bringing out all sorts of stuff. Good and bad. If I hadn't already been given and then rejected religion, I might consider, god, that is. Please don't tell any missionaries.

The Accidentally Stolen Car Story

First she tells us about the time she accidentally stole a car. "Accidentally stole a car" is the kind of statement capable of getting a laugh out of anyone. By the end of the story I am convinced that it was an accident--same car, same color, different steering wheel grip, different keys. If Volkswagen made a bunch of cars with keys that work in same-looking cars then that's an accident on their part.

I blame Volkswagen. What were they thinking? What am I thinking? What are any of us thinking?

One

This baby is one. One is one of those ages that is unbelievably cute and unbelievably menacing. Yes I called her a menace, mostly because she's been climbing onto the dining room table and computer keyboard all day, though I've almost forgotten about it, except for the bruise on her cheek reminding me that babies fall off of tables. And I did say cute along with menace.

This is also the age that is over in a second. She'll be stealing somebody's wallet and heart before we know it. Wait. Where's my wallet? And my heart? They're gone. Gone. Gone. My baby is growing up and I have no idea what to do about it.

B Y Who?

If you have been wondering to yourself or aloud what it might be like to attend Brigham Young University click here.

woolgathering \WOOL-gath-(uh)-ring\, noun:

Indulgence in idle daydreaming.