The Cube Makes Me Wanna (Tricky)

Language: Greek

This is probably one of my top ten favorite songs. I am crazy about this song. I don't really know why. One thing I can point to that I like about it is the structure -- it's kind of weirdly put together. But beyond that, who knows why people like things. I just do.

Which seems like as good a time as any to note that I'm disappointed in the new Bjork album. I like Bjork, rather a lot, which should be obvious. I think "Earth Intruders" is magnificent, and "Innocence" is a rocking good time, but the album as a whole -- I dunno. She lost me somewhere around Homogenic.

On the other hand, the new Tori Amos, American Doll Posse (warning: sound / graphics intensive) is the best in many years. So I suppose these things even out.

Anyway. Behold the video for "She Makes Me Wanna Die:"



-Jessi

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The cube makes me wanna
follow Mary, where she does it, and
go worship the things she does.
She says if I change my stride,
then I'll fly.
The cubes wanna change me.
I make my stride of this,
then I fly.
The sun looked in,
mental: "I see myself in the pollution!"
I walk in the moon.
How could you dare?
Who do you think that you are?
You are insignificant!
A piece of smallism,
the least, from no other, no.
The world does try, you'll learn. It does!
(Even the world can't discuss it.)
Smoking hydroponic is ironic, you know.
The cube makes me wanna
change my stride, and you
will fly this. Then I'll
wanna make the cube
follow Mary. Where does
it go to worship? Do the things know?
She says if I change my stride,
then I'll fly,
and change my stride.
Then I'll fly
in the sun's look.
I see myself in the mental pollution,
where I walk in the moon.
How could you dare?
You are insignificant!
A piece of smallism,
the least, from no other, no.
The world tries to learn from you;
even in the world cannot discuss it.
You know.

Would I Find Myself in You? (Eurythmics)

Language: Greek

Part of the application process for the job I interviewed for on Thursday is a personality test. This makes me really nervous (in some respects, more so than the interview itself): among other things, I prefer it when my personality is a surprise to people.

A lot of the questions were about the sorts of things you'd expect: whether or not it's okay to steal from an employer (even if they're really, really mean to you), whether or not it's good to be nice to people, etc. The strangest part was a series of items sprinkled in among the other ones about accidents, whether they were preventable, whose fault they were, etc. It struck me as an odd thing to be asking questions about.

But then, the whole thing was kind of screwy, frankly. Any halfway intelligent person could easily figure out the answers that the test was angling for, especially if you know, going in, that there's a scale built in to catch people who are trying to give the most socially correct answer. I suspect I could get into some trouble if I posted one of the exact questions, word for word, but there were things in there like, "I've gone out of my way to be mean to people before." Well, duh. So clearly questions like that are checking to see if you're being honest.

I had initially been toying with the idea of e-mailing and asking to be removed from consideration, because of the personality test thing. It really bothered me, seemed like a weird kind of asymmetric invasion of privacy (and still kind of does). In the end, I decided not to, and went ahead and took the test, and told the truth, because 1) I figure actually getting the job is kind of a long shot anyway¹, and 2) I can't imagine that they're getting any usable, real information out of these things, so to the extent that the test counts for anything, I'm thinking it's just an extra randomizing device, a wild card if you will. So there's no particular reason not to take it if you think, as I do, that I was not especially impressive in the interview: it could only help my chances of getting the job.

This song seemed like the only sensible song choice, given the aforementioned situation.

-Jessi

¹The husband would actually prefer that I not get the job, for reasons which are specific to the job and which I don't want to address at the moment, but which are very possibly valid and which I have some concerns about myself.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Would I find it in you?
Would I find it in you, honey?
Would I say something now that wasn't genuine?
I ask you that, sugar: would I find it in you?

My friends know what's in the shop.
I won't be here otherwise.
I've packed my bags,
I've cleaned the floor.
You're careful with me.
Walk outside the door.

(You consider me: I'll make him, I will make him)

You fall in a straight line - no intervention.
No deceit in your person.
You are the bigger imitation, but
A lot of him is genuine.
I had all of it I can take;
Now I leave it to you.

(You consider me: I will make him, I will make him)

(You are careful with me – you are careful! Ooh, yeah)

Sensuality of Big Times (Bjork)

Language: Greek

I have a job interview on Thursday. This is, in theory, a good thing. The job itself looks pretty craptacular, but it's only 20 hours a week, and pays as well as my last two jobs did at 40 hours. Which helps.

The problem is, I am a terrible interview. Which some of you will be saying at this point, Geez, Jessi, way to give up ahead of time. But: you don't understand. You couldn't.

I've tried going into interviews with the idea that I'll be glib and charismatic and likeable and corporate and witty, and I inevitably wind up being myself regardless¹. And I've tried going with the idea that I'll just be myself, and if they don't like that then fine, it probably wouldn't have worked out anyway. That is an even worse interviewing strategy. I should, it seems, never be encouraged to be myself.

It doesn't help that this is a job nobody in his/r right mind could possibly actually want. I mean, it's not the sort of thing kids dream about becoming.² Which makes faking enthusiasm hard. (And, in truth, I'm not good at projecting enthusiasm even when it would be appropriate. I'm not, fundamentally, a person prone to enthusiasm. On me it looks wrong.) And it involves some dealing with the public, which I would really like to never have to do that again. But of course I still need a job. Unemployment's going to be over within a month or so, I think.

This song wouldn't seem to have anything to do with the situation I've just described, but I have trouble finding a Babelpopped line that doesn't relate, in some fashion. Though one wouldn't know it from the original song, of course.

-Jessi

¹(who is, often if not always, witty. But I've never done charismatic well, or corporate. And, as the cartoon above points out, I don't look very good on paper, either.)

²I'm not sure I should say anything about what the job actually is, publicly. At least not yet, not this publicly. You understand.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I can feel that something important is ready, is scheduled to happen:

The gentle and noble sensuality of big times takes courage.

I know that I'm a little too familiar, but
I was included also. The two meet, and much is presented,
and something is precisely itself.

The gentle and noble sensuality of big times takes courage.

Since this weekend, I do not want to know my future, and

The gentle and noble sensuality of big times takes courage.

Frozen Snowman (Jack Rollins and Steve Nelson)

Language: Greek

This is, of course, not at all the right time of year for this song. But I like to feel that I'm not a slave to the calendar, when it comes to these things. If I want to put on a Halloween costume in February, or sing Christmas songs in May, then I'm fucking well going to do it, and you can't stop me, you bunch of fucking sheep. So there.

I should also mention that I may be sophisticated and highbrow, but I'm also not above making (or being amused by) jokes about bodily functions: see the second line of the second verse, below. Though obviously Babel Fish deserves some of the credit for that one. There's also a bit of sodomy double-entendre sneaking in there in spots, in the second verse.

It's all about freedom for me today. Christmas music! Poop jokes! Chocolate cake for breakfast!¹ Wheeee!

-Jessi

¹Really. I did. Also a banana and a shitload of coffee. There might be a dill pickle in the cards later, too: I'm deciding.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Frozen Snowman's soul was pleasant,
with a corncob pipe, and a nose of buttons, and two eyes formed from coal.
Frozen Snowman says it's a fairytale,
constituted by the snow, but the children know that life came in one day. It was the
old silk that they found: a certain magic should've existed in that,
for when they placed him in his head, it began to dance around!
Oh, the Frozen Snowman's one life was as it could be.
(The children also say that it could laugh and play with them,
the thing being precisely the same as you and I.)

The hurt, thumpety, hurt, thumpety hurt, hurt,
goes and examines the frozen ones.
Hurt thumpety, hurt, thumpety hurt, hurt,
beyond the hills of snow.

Frozen Snowman knew that the sun was boiling hot that day,
thus he said, "Have a certain amusement now, before I melt (and have the runs)."
The village was under his hand – in with a broomstick!
They ran all around the square.
They said, "Touch me if you can!"
This led them right under the city's roads, in the circulation.
He only stopped a moment, when he heard them holler, "attitude!" and
the Snowman should have pressed for temporarily freezing in the street,
but he said goodbye: " Don't shout; I will be behind you again some day."

Idioteque (Radiohead)

Ordinarily there would be a picture here, but Blogger is not permitting me to post one at the moment. UPDATE: Got it.

Language: Greek

So, well, the going out of business sale began on Friday. So very many people came in after seeing the giant "GOING OUT OF BUSINESS" signs and asked me, or somebody else, "Are you guys really going out of business?" Sometimes, "Why are you going out of business?" Well why would you think. Money coming in < money going out.

Which, you know. You understand why they're asking: it was sudden for them if not for us. And they're being nice about it, saying that they're sorry and that it's such a nice store and they loved shopping there¹ and blah blah blah. But at some point it gets to be too much. Any one conversation about it is fine, but what they don't realize is that I'm having to have this same conversation every fifteen minutes, and it's hard for me. This is not really something I want to be thinking about much right now.

And no (while we're at it), I don't know what I'm going to do for money now, and no, I don't actually qualify for full unemployment benefits, because I've worked there less than six months, like almost everybody else, and no, I'm not even one-hundred percent sure that I'm going to get paid for the time I'm spending here right now talking to you, as I know the former Human Resources / Accounts Receivable person didn't get paid when she came in on Friday, and the rumor has it that there's a whole department that wasn't paid either. So while I sympathize with the fact that you're going to have to start walking another six or seven blocks to buy your groceries, and this is a terrible, terrible hardship for you, allow me a moment or two to not fucking care. Either offer me a job or shut the fuck up.

Anyway. So here's a song. There's also a video.

-Jessi

¹Impossible not to think, yeah, well, but I guess you didn't love shopping here all that much, now, did you?

Picture (c) Kari Christensen

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Deposit in whom?
Deposit in whom?)
The women and children first,
and the children first,
and the children.
I will laugh until the toy comes from my head.
I will swallow the toy until it bursts,
until the toy bursts:
it's up to me.

(Deposit in whom?
Deposit in whom?)
I've seen a lot of very --
I haven't seen enough of that. Him
you have not seen.
I will laugh at you until toys come from my head.
The women and children first,
and the children first,
and the children.

Here. I have the authorisation
for all time. In all, the
authorisation is here, where I have
all the time. In all, for

the coming age of ice.
The age of ice that comes
allows me to hear the two sides. Also,
I allowed myself to hear. Also, the two sides
allowed it. Also, I hear my two
coming ages of ice,
ages of ice.
It throws him in the fire,
throws him in the fire,
it throws him.

We aren't worrying about news distribution:
it happens. This is
really happening.
We aren't worrying the distribution.
Really: it happens,
happens.
Mobiles that --
chirp. Mobiles.
He takes the money and runs,
takes the money and runs,
takes the money.

He has the authorisation here,
the time for it, all in all.
Here is where I have the authorization
for time, all in all.

Here I have the authorization.
All in, for all the time
I have the authorization. Here, where
the time is for all

of the first children.

Certain Days are Better than Other Days (U2)

Language: Greek

Many, many years ago, I read something about Seasonal Affective Disorder, probably in some Christian self-help book belonging to my parents, and thought, wow, it would be kind of cool to know when life was going to suck ahead of time; I wonder if I have better and worse seasons like that too. And so I started keeping a diary, supplemented by ratings for each day on a zero to four scale.¹

7,268 days later, I can pretty conclusively say that I don't have SAD. Or if I do, it's not winter SAD, at least (late spring to mid summer, April to July, seems to be the worst time for me). But even so, I can confirm that U2 is correct here. Some days are, in fact, better than other days.

And certain years, also, are better than other years. Which is the real motivation for doing this song at this time: 2006 is almost over, which means revising the spreadsheets again. And the above picture is more or less how things have been shaping up for me since 1987: high and red is good, low and blue is bad.

All the numbers are not yet in for 2006, obviously. But whatever today winds up being like, 2006 is still going to land about there on the graph: not as bad as 1997², but worse than everything else, even 2005, which wasn't exactly my best year either.

Will 2007 be an improvement? [shrug] Odds are. But then, that was also true last New Year's, and it didn't quite work out that way. So. Cross your fingers.

-Jessi

¹ Originally this was a one-to-four scale; I went back years later and retroactively changed some days when it occurred to me that symmetry kind of demanded an odd number of possible rankings. Which is why it's zero to four instead of one to five. A similar historical-accident kind of thing made zero good and four bad, which is sort of the opposite of what everybody assumes and makes graphing marginally more complicated than it really had to be.

²1997 was frakking miserable. 2005 and 2006 haven't actually seemed all that awful while in progress, but 1997 was a monster.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Certain days are lands, certain days are leaky;
certain days come clean, and other days are sneaky.
Certain days take less, but most take days --
a certain slipping via your fingers above the floor.

Certain days are fast, but most days are rapid;
certain days you use more force than is essential.
Some days fall on us precisely;
certain days are better than other days.

Certain days add above it all,
and you aren't taking enough. What
is better than certain other days?

Certain days are sleepy, other days untidy,
certain days you cannot stand to view the puppy.
They are better than your other skin.

Certain days you wake up complaining, with those.
Certain days are wetting sunny wishes.
Certain days are sulky, certain days have a grin,
and certain days have ruffians, and they will leave you inside.

Certain days hear your voice
in another place;
other days are certainly better than that.

Certain days are honest, certain days are not,
the days are grateful because you have that certainty.
Certain days, you wake up in the army,
and certain days it is an enemy.

She is working certain days; you are lazy, most days.
That baby is feeling certain days.
Looking for the Jesus, and the mother ,
it's better than what the others said. Certain days,
certain days, they are better than the other days.

Certain days hear your voice
in another place;
other days are certainly better than that.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (Hugh Martin, Ralph Blane)

Language: Greek

Wikipedia has an entry on all the drafts this song went through, with an eyebrow raisingly dark “early draft”, (1) complete with Old Testament God threatening to muck things up for you and an “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life” caliber opener: “Have yourself a merry little Christmas / It may be your last.”

Heartening, then, to see the “Until then, we’ll have to muddle through somehow” in the original Meet Me in St. Louis version, always my favorite line, and which omission and replacement by that “hang a shining star” nonsense I can now blame on Frank Sinatra.

All that said, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the Jim Nabors “shining star” version, and not because of “make the yuletide gay,” either (as I am no longer in junior high, NB), but because he holds out the word “bough” at the end for like nine measures but doesn’t actually resolve the word, so it comes out like, “Hang a shining star upon the highest baaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh.”

Also, when the song is over, I do my famous-in-some-circles Sergeant Carter impression and go, “Merry Christmas, Pyle.”

If you call me, I’ll do it for you, but until then you’ll have to muddle through somehow.

- Samanth.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Himself has one cheerful few Christmas.
You leave your heart to be light.
The following year, all our problems will be from the view.

Himself has one cheerful few Christmas.
It makes the homosexual yuletide.
It’s the following year that all our problems will be miles along.

Other time as in the old,
Golden days of dance floors,
Of friends of past that were dear in us.
Will neighbor be in us, still, a time?

Someday shortly all we will be together, if the fates allow.
Up to then, it will be supposed, we tangle somehow.
Thus, himself has one cheerful few Christmas now.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(1) Update, a year later, almost to the day: the Wikipedia article has been Wikipedia'd into near-pointlessness, and I don't feel like fixing it right now. Interested parties are advised to read There's Something About Merry on the Entertainment Weekly site, which being almost a year old itself hopefully is here to stick around a bit. -SM

The Roxanne (Police)

Language: Greek

Apparently they've been around for a few years, but I've just become acquainted with LED Christmas lights, as of a week or two ago, and I think they're pretty neat. They don't use much energy (about 14 watts for three strings of 50 lights), they're bright to the point of being kind of alarming, and they stay cool, so they're a lot less likely to set things on fire than the other kinds of Christmas lights.

There are a couple drawbacks: LEDs don't burn out or break like normal bulbs do, but they do get dimmer over time. They're more expensive¹. And (the one that bugs me the most) they flicker. The reason is that apparently they can only emit light when electricity is moving in one direction, not both. When on alternating current, they turn on and off at the frequency of the current, which in the United States is sixty times a second: this is enough to be noticeable, especially when you and the lights are moving relative to one another. Inside, where the husband and I have our lights, this is obnoxious: outdoors, where the lights could swing back and forth or sway with a tree, it might actually heighten the glittery effect that Christmas lights seem to be going for in the first place.

Particularly if one were using white LEDs (actually more of a blue-white: when I look at them, I think of things like class-B and -A stars, or moonlight, or the color of a room which is being illuminated only by a single small black-and-white television), there'd be some glitter. Which is what the husband and I bought, white ones, as it is "not essential to put in the red light."

-Jessi

¹$10.00 for a set of 50 lights at K-Mart. This is partially or totally offset by the much-reduced cost of operation, since they use so much less energy than the equivalent number of C9 or C7 bulbs. Some C9 and C7 bulbs use as much as 7 W per bulb, as opposed to about 4-5 W for a string of 50 LED bulbs. If you're inclined to go nuts with Christmas light displays,^a the savings in energy could add up very quickly.
^aWhy? I mean, they're pretty, but come on. Lots of things are pretty.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Roxanne, it isn't essential to put you in the red light.
Those days are beyond you;
selling your body in the night isn't essential.
Roxanne, it's not essential that you wear the dress, or
walk the roads tonight for the money.
Whether it's erroneous or right, don't attend.

Roxanne, it's not essential to put you in the red light.

I loved you since I knew you;
I wouldn't speak while under you.
I should say it to you, precisely how I feel:
I won't be shared with other boys.
I know it's arranged; thus, it's been decided
above you. This rendered you mine as soon as I said it.
I won't say this again: I'm in a bad way.

Roxanne, it's not essential that they put you in the red light.
Roxanne, it's not essential that you put the red light in.

A Brick in the Other Wall, Part II (Pink Floyd)

Language: Greek

I've never been all that fond of this song, like I've never been fond of Comfortably Numb. It's possible that I just don't like Pink Floyd, actually. Many people don't.

-Jessi

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

No, we didn't need education.
We didn't need uncontrolled thinking.
There's no order to the dark sarcasm;
the schoolteacher leaves those kids alone.
(Hey! The schoolteacher leaves those kids alone!)
In general, it's a brick, precisely in the other wall.
In general, you're a brick, precisely in the other wall.
No, we didn't need education.
We didn't need uncontrolled thinking.
There's no order to the dark sarcasm.
The schoolteacher leaves those kids alone.
(Hey! The schoolteacher leaves those kids alone!)
In general, you're a brick, precisely in the other wall.
In general, you're a brick, precisely in the other wall.

Others Don't Come 'Round Here (Tom Petty)

Language: Greek

Tom Petty has done all right for himself, given that he's not extraordinarily beautiful or talented. Discuss.

-Jessi

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Hey! Others don't come 'round here.
The other, it doesn't come 'round here, no.
Search anyone:
Hey! Others don't come 'round here, no.

I have given into the attitude.
I have given into the attitude.
I have given into the attitude.
Wait for the others: I have stopped.
This love takes in more power.

The others don't come 'round here, no.
The others don't come 'round here, no.
The others don't come 'round here, no.
The others don't come 'round here, no.

I feel another you;
my door darkens you.
Search anyone:
Hey! The others don't come 'round here.

I have stopped; I stop.
I have stopped; I stop.
I have stopped, so you stop. My emotions are mixed, and
I have stopped. I request that she finish the honey – recognize it.

Hey! No others come 'round here.
The other, it doesn't come 'round here, no.
The other, it doesn't come 'round here, no.
The others don't come 'round here, no.

That attitude walks under the road.
Others don't come 'round here, no.
Is it who you expected?
The others don't come 'round here, no.
Search anyone:
Hey! No others come 'round here.
Hey! I request the honey. The others don't come 'round here, no.
Search anyone:
(Ah, oh, ah, ah.)
The others don't come 'round here, no.

Friend in a Coma (Smiths)

Language: Greek

I'm not in a great place, emotionally. Yesterday was difficult. So far today, I'm just kind of shut-down, so this was the logical choice for a song.

-Jessi

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Friend in a coma, I know that.
I'm serious: I know.
Friend in a coma, I know.
I'm really serious: I know.

Years existed when I could
have them murder him.
(But, you know, I hate
something to happen in order.)

No! I don't want him to see!

You really think that it will pull straight?
Think that it will pull straight? Really?

Friend in a coma, I know.
I know that he is.
Goodbye, my serious baby, my my my, my my.

Years existed when I could
have him strangled.
(But you know, I hate
nothing to happen in order.)
You would request that I
allow him to see?

You really think that it will pull straight?
Really? You think that it will pull straight?
I'll allow last goodbyes. I whispered mine.

I know - he is serious.

Livin' in Prayer (Bon Jovi)

Language: Greek

I've mentioned this song elsewhere, so I'm not going to try to say a lot about it now. Judging from my own memories of growing up in Iowa, and visiting often when I wasn't living here, Bon Jovi is like the State Bird or something (n.b.: It's actually the goldfinch. -ed).

Meanwhile, allergies. Lots of dust kicked up yesterday in the process of unpacking my CD collection, and I'm still reacting to it this morning, somehow. Or I'm reacting to something else. The new place has been very sneezy so far, and I'm not entirely sure what's causing this. The carpet is new, we've painted everything, the kitchen vinyl got replaced, everything's been wiped down to some degree or another, so the only thing I can think is that I'm having an allergic reaction to the dust that we've brought with us.

Also I'd like to note that most of the pictures lately have been posted through Photobucket instead of Blogger because Blogger has not been co-operating with me on the picture-posting at all, and it pisses me off. I'm not, like, a huge fan of Photobucket either, but it's a step up. Just so you know.

-Jessi

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A time and a no-time,
a long time before --

Tommy used the union in order to work the docks.
(The strike lowers the chances.) Being in
this is hard, so hard.
Gina is occupied in having lunch. She works all day
for her individual, brings her wage home
for the love, for love.

She says that what should've maintained
Him doesn't make a difference, because if He makes it or doesn't,
the other one has this a lot, and
gunfire will give Him love.

Whoa, is there half
existence in prayer?
We take the hand,
we have the other one, and this is a lot.
We'll give him the love of gunfire.

Whoa, we are half there
in a prayerful existence.
We take my hand,
and we'll put Him under oath: I'm making
an existence in prayer.

Tommy acquired six lines. That hock is
exploitation now, used in order
to make the discussion hard. So much of him
is hard; he dreams of Gina. This runs far,
then it shouts at the baby.
The night whispers that Tommy will be all right, someday.

Should we maintain what we have
because it doesn't make a difference? If we make Him, or don't,
(one or the other) He has a lot of
gunfire, for we will give Him the love.

Whoa, we are half there
in a prayerful existence.
We take my hand,
and we'll put Him under oath: I'm making
an existence in prayer.

We expect He should keep us above:
it's everything when you fight for life.
We will make Him take my hand under oath. I am put in a prayer;
I exist in a prayer.

Should we keep it above? Do we expect it, or no?
What do you live for when the fight is all you have?

Whoa, we are half there
in a prayerful existence.
We take my hand,
and we'll put Him under oath: I'm making
an existence in prayer.

I Shot the Sheriff (Bob Marley)

A hearty greeting to those visiting us from King of Zembla! We have arranged for a troupe of Zemblan dancers to present a medley of native dances, which starts in about half an hour.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Language: Greek

I'm not sure what to say about this one. The husband and I continue the moving process: painting was done Friday morning and now we're waiting for new carpet and linoleum. Also there are issues with the bathroom, like how it's moldy and rusty and filthy and falling apart. The apartment manager is supposed to tend to the bathroom, but it's not known exactly when this is going to happen: it could end up being after we've moved. Probably will be, in fact, because 1) she's got a lot of more urgent stuff on her mind at the moment, and 2) she's pissed at us for using too much paint during the repainting and getting too much on the carpet pad.

-Jessi

Neither Babelpop! nor its contributors, nor Blogger, nor anybody at all, really, that I'm aware of, condones the shooting of sheriffs, their assistants / deputies, or anyone else connected with law enforcement, though we might be willing to make an exception in the case of self-defense. Babelpop! and its affiliates, contributors, etc. wish to emphasize that the shooting of the Sheriff of Ashland County, Ohio (pictured) is not being advocated despite his photo being shown above. It was just that his was the first picture I, Jessica M. Guilford, ran across and decided to use for purposes of this post. 'Cause of how he's all sexy and stuff.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(I shot the sheriff,
but didn't shoot no assistant, Oh, no! Oh!
I shot the sheriff,
but didn't shoot no assistant, ooh, ooh, oo-ooh.)
Yes! A domestic all around my city,
they try to discover me.
They say that they want me; they bring in guilt
for the murder of an assistant,
for the life of an assistant.
But I say:

Oh, now, now. Oh!
(I shot the sheriff.) The sheriff.
(But under oath: he was alone in that. I'm put on the defensive.)
Oh, No! (Ooh, ooh, oo-oh) Yes!
I say: I shot the sheriff – Oh, Lord! –
(And they say that it's a main infringement.)
Yes! (Ooh, ooh, oo-oh) Yes!

The sheriff, John Brown, is always hateful,
I don't know what for.
Each time I planted a seed,
he said, "Before this killing is increased –
you kill them." He said that, before they were increased.
And thus:

You read about him in the news.
(I shot the sheriff.) Oh, Lord!
(But under oath: he was alone in that. I'm put on the defensive.)
Where was the assistant? (Oo-oh) She
said I shot the sheriff,
but, under oath: she is alone in that. I'm put on the defensive. (Oo-oh) Yes!

The freedom came my way one day
from the city: yes! And I began.
Suddenly, I saw John Brown, the sheriff,
Aiming downward, in order to bring me.
I shot -- I shot thusly -- I brought him down, and I say:
If I'm guilty, I'll pay.

(I shot the sheriff)
But I say (But I didn't shoot no assistants),
I did not shoot no assistant (Oh), oh no!
(I shot the sheriff.) !
But I didn't shoot no assistants. Oh! (Oo-oo-ooh)

I've had better reflections;
but: what you are should be what they are.
Each day is a bucket before the well,
one day is fall, outside, or the point just before,
one day is fall, outside, or the point just before.
I say:

I, I shot the sheriff;
God shot the assistant. Yes!
I, I (shot a sheriff) –
but I didn't shoot no assistants. Yes! No, yes!

Yoshimi Fights the Robot Roz, First Part (Flaming Lips)

Language: Greek

It's late, and my throat hurts, and I can't think of anything clever to say except to note that we're all, technically, part vitamins, which probably isn't all that clever either. Oh, and: I have trouble reading this without thinking about Hurricane Katrina, of all things, for reasons which may or may not be obvious.

-Jessi

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Her name is Yoshimi.
Karate is a black area
that functions for the city.
Should it discipline her body
because it knows that
she requires it?
Overcome those bad machines;
I know it can defeat them.

Oh Yoshimi, they don't consider me,
won't; leave those robots to overcome me.
Oh Yoshimi, don't they consider me, that
won't leave? But those robots come over to me.

That bad-natured robot,
this catastrophe program: I am us. I
should fight this; I'm powerful. I
take this. I am part vitamin. Thus, I . . . .
Because I know that this
will be tragic, I
gain if that villain robot – (I,
I know this.)

Oh Yoshimi, they don't consider me,
won't; leave those robots to overcome me.
Oh Yoshimi, don't they consider me, that
won't leave? But eat me, Yoshimi. To the robots!

Because that, she knows,
would be tragic.
If bad robots gain those,
their cans know defeat.

Yoshimi, they don't consider me,
won't; leave those robots to overcome me.
Yoshimi, they don't consider me,
won't; leave those robots to overcome me.
Oh Yoshimi, don't they consider me, that
won't leave? But eat me, Yoshimi. To the robots!
Oh Yoshimi, don't they consider me, that
won't leave? But eat me, Yoshimi. To the robots!
Yoshimi . . . .

So Much Sentiment (Whitney Houston)

Language: Greek

Sometimes I wonder about the inside of my head. Probably I'm not the only one: you may have wondered about the inside of my head as well, but I mean something more specific than that here. This song wound up meaning almost entirely different things than the original one: in this version, the singer is a photographer and artist, who develops a relationship with a man that quickly turns sexual, but she quickly finds it unsatifying and rejects him (possibly because she wants kids and he doesn't? It's not clear.). The plot gets a little muddy after that point, but at least one possible interpretation is that he moves away but continues to stalk her, and she has to threaten him with physical violence.

I don't remember this being an especially difficult song to do; there wasn't any extreme rearrangement going on, or excessive adding and subtracting of words. It all seemed to flow pretty easily. And yet: this has very little overlap with the original song. Does the new song, and its new plot, say something about where my head was at the time, or would anybody come up with something like this? (For the record, none of the above applies to my actual situation right now, at least not in any kind of conscious or literal way.) I've never really tried to go back and do the same song a second time, just to see how different it would be, so I have no idea how much leeway I actually have, and how much of what ends up in these songs is based on my own emotional state. But maybe we'll see Whitney back in a few weeks. Just as an experiment.

-Jessi

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I have heard you beat my heart into my
photographs. I kept you apart from my bed, on the right.
In a world of imaginations, life is
from my head: I cannot take you to that.

I'm waiting for the ring. I have the telephone in the hall.
So much "good-night," because you wanna render to me the sense
of my own love. You took me,
so, shouldn't you hang up the telephone? (Take it yourself!)

(Chorus:) I remember the way that we touched upon
him. We wished that I didn't like so much,
so much sentiment, baby. I take
time where I think. To you, each
baby takes so much sentiment: I
can make love that convulses you. Who can't?
This ain't it.

I got it: be careful walking in the room, baby.
I gotta walk you outside, clock
you in the animal way. I like where you've moved to.
When you speak, you be careful: I'd move your mouth precisely.

Chorus

The Private Dancer (Tina Turner)

Language: Greek

Another case where I think some of the lines were actually improved by Babelfishing. Though the syllable count is all off: this version might be tougher to sing.

Speaking of strip clubs: Norah Vincent's book Self-Made Man has a great chapter on them. Plus, even though it was promoted on a trashy ABC newsmagazine that shall remain nameless, it's actually a pretty smart read. Run, don't walk.

-Jessi

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Good: the individuals come in force,
and these individuals are all the same.
Don't you examine their persons,
and don't ask their names.
Don't think like a person;
by all means, don't think, no.
Keep your brain in. They are the money that you
keep in the wall; they are your eyes.

[chorus] I'm the private dancer,
your dancer for money.
He makes me; I'll make you what you order.
I'm your private dancer,
a dancer for the money,
and he will make any old music.

I want to make a million dollars, and
live outside, marinely. I want to
have a spouse and certain children,
I suppose. (Yes, I want a family.)
All the individuals come,
and the individuals are all the same.
Don't examine their persons, and
don't ask for their names.

[chorus two times]

Deutschmarks or dollars?
Beautiful Americans will make it explicit – thank you.
He allows me to relax above your collar;
he says, again, that he wants to make you see within the shimmy.

[chorus]

Digging in the Pollutant (Peter Gabriel)

Language: Greek

Dirt would be bad enough, but pollutant? Peter: just stop digging already. Start a support group or something.

-Jessi

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Something within, dark and adhesive:
this doesn't take all hour. This powerful
sentiment cannot be continued, no way.
Very much as this, too.

This time, has it gone too much?
You have this long time: does it go to you too much?
You have this long time: you go much too far.
You, I said; you, I said; you, I said; you, I said.
This time you have it: I go too much.
I have too much time. You long to go to this.
You go too far, this time; I have much longer.
You I said, you I said, you I said, you I said.

You don't speak precisely;
nothing leads behind it.
It doesn't keep your hands in the tire,
it doesn't turn round.
He is for real, this
digging in the pollutant eve.
I need the support, with
digging in the pollutant.
Finds the places that took harm;
opens the places that took harm.

I find more to look at,
closer in. As blind as much above. So? Take
him in my head, consider him. I consider a toe in.
I consider him in my sex, this place of mine that goes.

This time has gone too much.
You have gone too long. This much time,
this long time, you have gone too far.
I said much to you, said to you, "you, I said; to you, I said."
This time I have it: you go too much.
I have to go too far, this time. You long much.
You, I said; you, I said; you, I said; you, I said.

Digging in the pollutant eve,
with the support I need.
Digging in the pollutant,
I took harm, in order to find the places. I
opened the places in order to take that harm.

Digging in the pollutant,
in order to we find the harmed places we took.

Crashes of Lightning (Live)

For those who either don't already know, or wouldn't care if they did know, my apartment building, or at least something in the vicinity, was struck by lightning last Tuesday, which sucked. Mainly because it knocked out my phone service, which has since been restored. However, restoration of the phone service means that I was able to find out that my modem got fried. Consequently, there's going to be a bit of a hiatus on my end, until such time as I can get on-line from my home.

Anyway. So this was the only song that seemed appropriate, under the circumstances. I don't recall, and didn't write down, what language it went through. Let's say Dutch. Everybody likes Dutch.

-Jessi

UPDATE: It turns out that the song was run in Greek. (Sorry, Sammie.) My modem remains fried, but the husband's wasn't, so we've switched them out and I have access again, though it seems somehow slower than it used to be, and it was already really slow. (I'm not complaining, though I will be soon enough.)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The lightning crashes: the shout of a new mother.
Her placenta falls in the floor.
That angel opens her eyes, and
places confusion in
the doctor before he can even close the door.

Lightning. An old mother crashes and dies of the
intentions in the floor. Her fall
closed her angel's eyes.
That confusion was all hers:
the baby now belongs in the under-room.

Oh, now he considers returning again; the
Air Forces are rolling a thunder that engraves,
pulling from the ground center again.
I can consider him.

The lightning is shattered; the mothers of the new cry,
waiting for him in this moment.
That angel opens her eyes,
presents the pale blue colored iris,
circles and hides the glory: puts it outside.