(I Had) The Time of My Life (Bill Medley/Jennifer Warnes)

Language: Portuguese

Okay. Well. I don't want anybody to get the impression that I'm going to start putting up new posts all the time again, but today I ran into two pieces of information that I thought was important enough that Sammie, in particular, would want to know. And, rather than just sending her an e-mail like a normal person, I Babelfished a song and turned it into a post.

The two pieces of information are:

1) The video game, The Sims, a game to which I am somewhat addicted (if the sequel, Sims 2, counts as the same thing), which has no English-language dialogue, and which has no real plot whatsoever (though it's flexible enough that one can impose a plot on it from without, if desired), is being made into a movie. Which was weird enough, but then I read about . . .

2) The movie, Dirty Dancing, which I have only seen once (if even that -- I may have missed some of the beginning and ending, plus I saw it on TV, not in a theater, so some of it may have been edited out) but which I don't recall having any car chases or gunplay or flesh-eating monsters, is being turned into a video game.

I'm sure there are other examples of ridiculous merchandising crossovers. But still. I think "Dirty Dancing: the Video Game" has got to take the prize for something or another.

-Jessi

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

[a]
Now I 've had the time of my life, that
none felt before. I'm never like,
"Yes, I swear that it's the truth,
and I must owe all."

('Cause I had the time of my life,
and I must owe all.)

I've waited so long that
I've now, finally, found somebody
to be that for me!
We saw the writing in the wall
while we felt magical. This is a fantasy.

Now, with passion in our eyes,
we don't have a disguise; thus: we've no way that could be --
private.
Because of the hand examination, we became that which
we seemed to understand.
We remembered only that urgency.

[ b ]
You are a thing that
I cannot start sufficiently.
So who says that I, you, it, something
could be loved? Because this is

[a]

With my body and soul,
I want one more of it than you do. He'll always know.
So we only go to leave, that's it --
we lose the controls, are distrustful.
Yes, I know what that is, in his mind.
Today when you say, "Sojourn the night with me,"
I can only remember. . . .

[b]
***
[a] [a] etc.

Most Beautiful Peace (Devo)

Language: Russian

I've been sick for the last day and a half. Some kind of food poisoning thing, I think. So I've slept for about eighteen hours out of the last twenty-four, and when I was awake, I had fever and chills, and then there was a bunch of gross stuff that I predict you aren't going to want to hear about.

So I hope it was a beautiful Memorial Day -- for you. It wasn't for me.

-Jessi

UPDATE: It was actually probably not food poisoning, technically. Wikipedia and (apparently) some other sources differentiate between "food poisoning" and norovirus infection, the critical distinction being the presence of an actual toxin or not. So, cholera could be food poisoning, because the symptoms of cholera are triggered by a protein toxin produced by the cholera bacterium, but noroviral infection can't be, because the virus, though it will fuck you up just like a chemical or bacterial toxin, is classed as a virus, rather than as a poison / toxin. This strikes me as a really dumb distinction to draw, but apparently some people draw it.

See also my Krill, Numinous Krill post on the subject.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

This which we live in is the most beautiful peace.
The people from sweet, romantic places
show the beautiful road everywhere.
Models worry them.
I want to say,
"This will be the most beautiful peace
for you."
It's a wonderful time to be here,
to be living famously.
Wonderful people everywhere
comb hair, their hair, and
make me to want to say,
"There will be a wonderful place
for you."
Hey!
They tell me I speak!
A girl and boy with new clothing on
can shake it to me for the entire night, at length.
Hey hey!
That's not for me.

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."

Do We Take Manhattan First? (Leonard Cohen)

Language: Dutch

Today's song is more or less in honor of Lynneguist, whose blog I ran into today, via a link from Francis Strand's blog, a link which could have mentioned me in passing but didn't and which I mention in an attempt to shame Francis, though it will not.

But anyway. Last I knew, Lynne was a Leonard Cohen fan, and probably still is, and she was nice enough to say nice things about the very blog you are reading right now, so I thought a shout-out of some kind might be in order, positive feedback being rare. And also I hadn't posted in a while so I was due.

Was this babelpopping successful? Well, as with most of them, yes and no. There are certainly some strange moments. I cannot, for example, explain the insertion of the word "bowl" in the third line. I'm also a little unsure what a "triplex viol" might be. I picture a viol with three sets of strings, 120 degrees apart from one another, that has to be played by three performers at a time. And probably somebody should build one of those, despite the obvious safety hazards. But it could mean something else entirely.

In other news, I went on a long walk today with the husband, and now my head hurts. This is either some kind of heat / sunburn / exhaustion thing, or I'm having a reaction to the DEET that we sprayed on to protect us from mosquitoes. Or both.

The mosquitoes seem especially motivated this year. Both times we've been in foresty areas in the last week or two, they've just flown at us from all directions. This had particularly bad results for me the first time, hence the DEET today.

-Jessi

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

Now they've condemned me to twenty years of trouble
for trying the change system within myself.
I come, I reward them, I bowl,
then we take Berlin. (We'll take Manhattan firstly.)

I'm accompanied by an indicator in the sky;
my skin conducted me by this birthmark.
The weapons of mine are conducted by our beauty.
We take Manhattan firstly, then we take Berlin.

[a]
I'd love a baby beside you,
your body and your spirit, and I'd love your clothing to live,
but you see that mail there, moving by the line? (Really?)
I told you, I told you, I told one of those about you.

Ah, you loved me as a loser, but now you're worried that I might've been made to win.
You don't have the manner, but you know to discipline me. Only stop --
first, let my work start. How many of these night baths for me?
We'll take Manhattan, then we take Berlin.

I don't love the manner of your company, sir,
and I don't love these drugs you keep: I'm not thin.
Do we love Manhattan first? (Take
what happened to my sister.) Then we take Berlin.

[a]

(Me and you:) Those points that you thank me for,
the monkey and the triplex viol, are sent
now. I managed to exercise each night.
We take Manhattan firstly, then we take Berlin.

I'm accompanied by an indicator in the sky;
my skin conducted me by this birthmark.
The weapons of mine are accompanied by our beauty.
We take Manhattan firstly, then we take Berlin.

Ah, remind me, for I used to live the music.
Remind me: I brought all your grocers in well.
Take the wounded first, father, and on the day, everyone
will take Manhattan; then we take Berlin.

Experiment IV (Kate Bush)

Language: French

I'm going through a spell lately where watching music videos, almost any music videos, makes me cry. Today it was "Someone to Love," by Fountains of Wayne, but it's been all kinds of things before. Songs that aren't sad, songs when I feel otherwise happy, anything. Jessica Guilford + music video = tearing up.

I don't know why this would be. Maybe it says something about the kinds of videos people are making today. Maybe it says something about the kinds of videos I'm drawn to investigate. Maybe I'm just dangerously emotionally volatile: that happens sometimes (though it wouldn't explain why it's specific to music videos). It's not like I have a job, to occupy myself with. And yes, I am still looking.

In any case, the video for this song seems to be one of the exceptions, possibly because it's old, or because it's so cheesy. So I like it. Also I always liked it anyway. Way better than that "Wuthering Heights" crap. Plus, bonus: Hugh Laurie ("Dr. House") appears at about 1:21 to 1:11, and then again around 0:44. You . . . well, you wouldn't have him pegged for a good actor from those shots, let's say.

I think the Babelpopped version of the lyrics is an obvious and inarguable improvement on the original.

Video:



-Jessi

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

We secretly work for the soldiers.
Our noise experiment was almost ready to begin:
we only know what we're making in theory.
The music is made for pleasure, to make it quiver --
it was music we made here, until

[a]
They said to us that all they wanted
was a noise which could kill somebody at a distance.
Thus, we advanced more meters, and the deficit --
it is a manufacturing error.

Terrifying cries of the mothers, a painful, piercing cry -
we recorded it, and put it in our machine.

[a]

As in, love could be a feeling.
The bad one could smell it; thus,
it could be smelled. So, good.
The sleeping ones could sing it with you,
dreaming, but this is your enemy!

We will not be blamed.
There will not be any there to 'sell the wick'
(somebody that can strike the right switch).

[a]

And additionally: inform the public that they are to remain.

Geniuses in a Bottle (Christina Aguilera)

Language: Italian

There's no news at all: I just finished this, and, at least in the middle of the night, it tickles me, so I'm posting it. The actual reworked lyrics are semi-gibberishy ("I just have to polish the sense."), but how can you not love a title like that?

I'm not entirely happy with the picture, though I'm a little bit alarmed that there's a whole industry devoted to trying to make babies incrementally smarter in the future. Not because I object to smart babies. (I'd be a little concerned about smart babies banding together and taking over the country, but one, they don't have the fine motor control, and two, I don't know if I'd notice a difference.) I think all babies, across the board, should be either just as smart as they are, or else smarter. I object to the industry because I don't really believe that any of these videos and toys and mobiles and what have you have been demonstrated to do anything at all.

But I suppose parental anxiety will keep the business booming. Everybody wants to have an edge over that damn Pfeiffer kid down the block. And anxiety sells. Still.

I miss Mr. Rogers.

-Jessi

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

Oh, that --

I think they've been blocked strongly,
for a century of sunny nights,
waiting for someone to free them.
Been licking your lips and jumping, it kisses my sense,
but that doesn't mean that I'm going to give it one.
Child, child, child
(child, child, child.).

[a]
Oh, whoa,
my body has a saying: "You go to their leaves."
Oh, whoa,
but my heart isn't saying it.

[b]
If you wish to be with me, child, a price has to be paid.
They're geniuses in a bottle; I just have to polish the sense. (You got it!)
Come to: I can make your desire align with me, if you wish.
You have to make a large impression; you have to like what I obtained.

[c]
Child, they are geniuses in one bottle.
It has just got to polish the sense, honey.
They are geniuses in a bottle, child,
come, come, I come to leave it outside.

The game of music and the level of the down-low,
a dance, and then we are good.
Someone has that need, of waiting for it.
My heart is beating to the speed of the light,
but that doesn't mean that this evening; it has one being.
Child, child, child
(child, child, child)

[a]

[b]

[c]

[a]

[b]

If you wish to be with me, child, a price has to be paid.
They're geniuses in a bottle; I just have to polish the sense. (You got it!)
Come to: I can make your desire align with me, if you wish.
Child, I am free and regulated. You come with me, and

They are geniuses in a bottle, child.
I come, I come, I come to leave it outside.

I Fuck Upward (Cracker)

Language: Russian

More of the same, for me personally. I'm kind of undecided about whether the song wound up essentially unchanged after being Babelfished, or wound up kind of broken and incoherent. It's possible that the original was incoherent too, obviously.

But in the end, I suppose I have to go with neither. In the original, after all, the speaker is being all cynical and suspicious, and this has turned it into self-castigation. Which, the two are not as far apart from one another as you'd think, but even so, it's not entirely gibberish, and it's different enough from the original.

It's odd that now that I have more or less any and all time to do whatever I want, I find I don't have any time for writing Babelpop! posts. Things happen, and I sometimes really mean to, but then I don't, and there's not really anything terribly positive to say anyway, so why bother, right? But I feel neglectful all the same. Maybe we'll turn it around. Or maybe I'll get a job and just not give a crap about whether or not I've mangled song lyrics on any particular day.

-Jessi

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

Here I am now, the youngest old person in the world
and I came to bring my burden to you,
each sleepless night without you in my handles
to be drilled and calm and (sometimes) sober

I mess up by being kind-hearted
I mess up by being wise

I'm here now, I'll be the earth angel
and I came to bring my burden to you.
I was here; now, I'll be the game warden of love.
Someone accepted my gin and tonic.

I mess up. I am content, located on the bank.
It is wise; I will inspire.

I fuck upward with peace, and you won't get me to fall in love.
I fuck upward with peace, and you won't get me to fall in love.
(Which, I didn't get it in me,
I didn't get it in me; it's more.)

I fuck upward with peace and love
I fuck upward with peace and love
I fuck upward with peace and love
I fuck upward with peace and love
I fuck upward with peace and love (I fuck any)
I fuck upward with peace and love (I fuck by any)
I fuck upward with peace and love (I fuck by any)
I fuck upward with peace and love (I fuck by any)

The Little Girl of the Rubber Link (Kate Bush)

Language: Dutch

Well. Thanks to the one of you who wrote to ask how I was doing.

The answer is mostly, not all that well, though I'd be worse if I weren't collecting unemployment. I've never been very good at rebounding from problems, hence the song. Though I'm very good about being in denial that there are problems. Having had more practice with that.

Anyway. So I'm still around. And maybe I'll even get back to posting again semi-regularly, some day.

-Jessi

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

To see which trees
bend in the wind
has more meaning than my destiny: then they found me.
You see, she tries against herself.

[a]
A rubber link plays at marbles to resist;
the rubber link bends the beats.
If I could learn what a rubber link is,
I'd return to my feet.
The rubber links my trousers,
the rubber stops linking the ponytails:
if I could learn to twang, such as a rubber link,
I'd be the little rubber link girl.
Me, the little rubber link girl!
Me, the little rubber link girl!
Oh, I have wanted to be a little rubber link girl.

When I slip
from my catapult,
I got my feet to land firmly. With
the body, let the wear in, for delays.

[a]

Give as a rubberband;
twang, such as a rubber link;
crack, such as a rubber link.

Oneffenheid-a-kopie
Oneffenheid-a-kopie
Oneffenheid-a-kopie

[b]
You won't keep one rubber link,
you won't keep two rubber links,
you won't keep three rubber links.

Here I go . . . .

[b]

The Goddess of Venus (Bananarama)

Language: Italian

No real progress yet on the employment thing. This has me, actually, kind of depressed, as in clinically. Also I've been kind of fevery and headachy for the last few days and haven't been sleeping well. So maybe I'm catching a cold or something too. Hard to tell.

Doesn't really matter, I suppose, but even so, I'm feeling pretty low. Also bored, and cranky.

On the plus side, a fern I've had since like October, which had been losing frond after frond after frond during the winter, has just begun to sprout new ones. This is very exciting, in a weird way. I've never had a fern before, and was under the impression that this was kind of a long shot. So it was nice to see it growing.

Also, the husband and I went to Cedar Rapids last Friday, because he had a thing to go to up there and I had nothing better to do, so we made a day of it and visited garden centers. I found a Chamaedorea metallica at Pierson's Flower Shop and Greenhouses (1800 Ellis Rd. NW, Cedar Rapids), which I had given up on seeing any in Iowa and figured I was going to have to order seeds from somewhere. So that was pretty cool. They also had a few Fatsia japonica, which I also haven't been able to find anywhere else and kind of wanted, but I didn't buy one of those, mostly because they'd let their smaller, cheaper specimens dry out to death. But even so, we're totally going back sometime.

This means that I now have two plants whose botanical names overlap with a band name: Chamaedorea metallica / Metallica and Ficus elastica / Elastica. That might actually be all there are, unless some scientist somewhere has just classified a Dieffenbachia bonjovi or a Dracaena devo or a Cissus bjorkiana or something. Which, by the way, some scientist should totally do.

The song has no connection to any of that (again). I just thought it was a nice idea. I hate the disposable razor ads that use this song, mostly for being omnipresent some time back (have they stopped those, or am I just not seeing them anymore?). Nothing wrong with the song in and of itself, though. Anyway.

-Jessi

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

Advanced on the mountain,
burning as a silver flame,
the top of beauty and love,
and Venus was her name.

She has it!
Yeah, child, she has it.
I'm your Venus; they're the fire
to that desire of yours.

Its crystal eyes were its crews,
that render blackness to every man,
like a dark night
that obtained what no others have been.

She has it!
Yeah, child, she has it, that
fire. They are yours, Venus; I'm the
well of your desire.

Fire your Venus. I'm
your desire.

Advanced on the mountain,
burning as a silver flame,
the top of beauty and love,
and Venus was her name.

She has it!
Yeah, child, she has it, that
fire. They're yours, Venus; I'm the
well of your desire.

Fire your Venus. I'm
your desire.

Large-Boned Woman (k. d. lang)

Language: Dutch

Sorry there's been so little blog activity lately; the whole unemployment thing is surprisingly demanding. I don't have a lot to say about anything anyway; this particular song (which wound up having some good lines, by the way) is kind of a placeholder. Hopefully soon things will return to some kind of normal and then we can proceed.

-Jessi

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

She was large-boned: not a woman
of Southern Alberta.
Only you could call her small.
And each Saturday night, you can bet
on her in the legion room.

Her blue clothing was conducted to move,
and she'd rolled him up --
which, oh, she'd already yielded.
And with a jump in her step,
and a wiggle in her pace, wait
below the street: she'll swing.

You could tell they were ready
by eyes on her can,
since she slipped by the mob.
She has run with grace
since they entered the place
yes, was a proud large-boned Woman.

Hey! Hey! Large-boned woman!
Don't doubt it: they're not natural.
A snake shakes, and
the floor breaks crossways, and we're concerned.
Hey! Hey! Large-boned woman!
I doubt they're natural.
Wind and a rock,
now she is shouting for more!

Now, people will manage themselves
from miles,
and would collect there to dance,
but then in the large-boned woman's shuffling,
she ended up keeping them in a trance.

The Super Shuffle of the Basin (Owens and Meyer)

Language: Portuguese.

We reluctantly interrupt the epic poem that is Jessi’s employability tango to bring you this increasingly-ubiquitous-as-we-approach-Sunday “rap” from 1985. Not much to say here, other than maybe it didn’t need to be seven minutes? Maybe cut the saxophone solo? We note, helpfully: a song already laden with double negatives in its pre-Babelpopped state begins to buckle under the weight of triple negatives post-op (“We are not here, not to start no problem”), so we hasten to add that if you want to skip ahead, line six of Steve Fuller’s verse might be the one to hit and get out.

Interestingly (I guess), D.T. Dan Hampton declined to participate in the performance, so we’ll have to imagine what could have been. If I could, just for a moment, step into the shoes of Mel Owens and Dick Meyer (and why would I; read this sad-ass article from the Sun Times about Owens, holy crap), I think it would go a little like this:

I’m Dan Hampton; something something “defensive tackle”
Here is the call of the common grackle
Um, I don’t actually know anything about this position
But I am a sucker for McSweeney’s Limited Editions
I don’t like Superbowl commercials; they all kind of suck
Do that many Americans really need trucks?
If you have severe combined immunodeficiency syndrome
You have to live in a bubble
Which would preclude you from doing
The Superbowl (&c.)

“The Superbowl Shuffle”, N.B., was nominated for a Grammy for “Best Rhythm & Blues Vocal Performance” (so I was wrong when I said “rap” up above, mea culpa), but lost to Prince’s “Kiss”, which means, sometimes, there is justice (yay!). Prince is actually performing at halftime on Sunday. Do I smell a rematch?

If so, all due respect to Walter Payton, who, it is said, runs the ball like he’s making romance, but “Kiss” remains about the sexiest damn thing I can think of right now, and it’s sort of late, and that’s when I think of sexy damn things.

I don’t want to step on Dimetrios Georgos Synodinos’ toes (What? He’s dead? Are all the heroes gone?), but I’m going to call it:

Game: Blouses.

-Samantha

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

CHORUS:
We are the bears
That group that mounts in confusion
On for low, making for you.
We are, thus, that bad.
(We know that we are good.)
To cast its mind as we know in them .

You know that we are to support, just for the amusement,
Whom we support our material. For all,
We are not here, not to start no problem.
We are right to make the super shuffle of the basin here.

Of Walter Payton:
Well, call me sweetness, and I taste to dance.
To function the sphere is as to make romance.
We had the objective since that encampment of training
To give to the Chicago a super possibility of the basin.
We are not making this because we are greedy.
The bears are making it to needily feed.
We did not come here to look the problem.
Us? We only came here to make the super shuffle of the basin.

Of Willie Gault:
That is: Willie, Speedy, and I am classroom of the world.
I taste to function, but I love starting the ticket.
I practice the entire day and dance all the night,
Me, I started to start soon for the Sunday fight.
Now I am so smooth. How much a whirlwind of the chocolate?
Me, I dance a little funky.
Thus, he gives the Attention Girl to me.
He does not have one here that he makes likes it.
My super shuffle of the basin will adjust it exempt.

Of Singletary of the Microphone:
I am Microphone of the Samurai;
I stop them cold.
Part of the defense? great!
And bold me has bogged for completely one, when,
Making what he is, right and adjusting the style,
they give a possibility to me.
It will balance it good.
Nobody that messing in my neighborhood.
I did not come here looking the problem.
Me? I only came to make the shuffle that super of the basin

CHORUS

Of Jim McMahon:
I am the QB punky, known as McMahon.
When I beat turf, I not have got no plant.
I game only my body, all on the field.
I cannot dance, but I can play “pill”.
I motivate the cats, me, exasperate, taste.
I game thus that cool, I point (please!).
This is because you all here in the double started to stop me.
That it makes the super shuffle of the basin.

Of Otis Wilson:
I am Otis! Boy of the breast, one of a type!
Mrs. All, the love for me, my body and my mind.
I am smooth in the wooden floor, as I cannot be,
But not to sucker he that goes to start me after.
Some guys are jealous of my style, and the classroom.
That one is because some extremity above in its donkey
did not come here looking the problem.
Me, starts only for low, to the super shuffle of the basin.

That Fuller of Steve:
They say that Jimbo is our man.
If Jimmy will not be making, certain can of I.
This is Steve. And it is not no wonder
That I function, I eat the lightning and step as the thunder.
It brings thus in Atlanta, bring in Dallas.
That is, for the Halas bear of the microphone and the Pope.
I am not here to feather its ruffle,
Me, I only came here to make the super shuffle of the basin.

Of Richardson of the Microphone:
I am L.A. Microphone, and I cool game it.
Not sneak for me. Because I am not no fool,
I fly in the field and start on for low.
All know that I around not mess.
I can break them, agitate them, in any height of that day.
I taste to steal it and to make the payment to them,
Thus satisfied, I do not cry out to beat to mine hustle.
Because I am just to make the super shuffle of the basin here.

CHORUS

Of the Tooth of Richard:
The man of sack: that he comes, I am its tooth of the man.
If quarterback to be late, he is going to start bending.
We stop the functioning, we stop the ticket,
Me/we like to pour guys in its donkey.
We love playing for the better fans of the world;
You, we improve the start that makes its super plants of the basin.
But he does not start soon, nor does not go to no problem
(Unless you practice the super shuffle of the basin...!).

Of Gary Fencik:
Is Gary here? I am Mr. Limpo.
They call me “beaten man”.
I do not know what they mean.
They play it for much time, and they give attention
To me to function (me, are in my man, a-in-one).
Guys of the Comrade Covers! It for low to the bone, that one.
Because in them, they call “Zone 46”.
Come in! All he leaves us to cry out and to cry out,
“We are going to make the shuffle! To follow, we sound its bell!”

Of William Perry:
You are looking at the coolant. Me, you are rookie.
I can be great, but I am not no cookie (dumb).
You, he saw to beat me, you saw me to function,
When I start to ticket us, he will have more amusement.
I can dance. You, I will see
the other (they who all learn of me).
I do not come here looking the problem.
Me? I only came here to make the super shuffle of the basin.

CHORUS

The Promise of a New Day (Paula Abdul)

Language: Spanish

I've been wanting to do a Paula Abdul song for ages, but the first attempts ("Forever Your Girl" and "Vibeology") fell as I was taking them out of the oven¹, so eventually I lost interest. But then I found interest again, apparently.

Greenhouse update: went in again on Tuesday and was told that they're not going to do any actual hiring until after Valentine's Day. So continued limbo. Though Valentine's isn't actually that far away, I suppose. Even so. The promise of a new day, or job, or whatever, is not interchangeable with an actual new day.

So the husband and I have decided to have a "Closure Party" for my fellow cashiers (except the one I'm not very fond of²) on Friday night. Which might be fun. I'm not sure. I haven't hosted a collegey drinking party like this in like ten years, and I'm not sure that most of those went all that well. Having low standards certainly helped. But we'll see. It should be fine. I suppose the worst that could happen is, husband and I get hauled off to jail for giving alcohol to minors and it forever ruins our chances of holding professional jobs or traveling anywhere else in the world and drives us into bankruptcy. Some of those things have already happened, so I'm not losing sleep over it. I sure as hell don't care if I'm forever known as a crappy hostess.

-Jessi

¹So to speak. And actually with "Vibeology" it was more like the souffle exploded and then turned into roofing tar, truth be told.

²Nothing wrong with her. I'm sure she's a nice person and she loves Jesus and puppies and her mother and everything. But we'd never really talked, and when we did talk she rubbed me the wrong way, somehow, and space in the apartment was a concern already, so it didn't take much of a push to convince me that she didn't really need an invitation. Also she has nebulous connections to the family who owned the place, and as there seems to be some bitterness towards said family from certain of the invitees, it's a little risky to invite someone who might eventually carry gossip back. Though in fairness it couldn't really matter if gossip were carried back anyway: what could they do, lay everybody off again?

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

An eagle called his well-known ones, and then he
returned to bring winds and tides, giving the change.
Why do I do it? I feel this way:
the promise of a new day.

[a]:
The promise,
the promise of a new day, is
like that time the Earth moved closer. Under my feet, more
complete love makes a step.
The promise of a new day has the final opinion.

[a][a]

[b]:
What terms will change the world in a certain time?
Nobody knows that,
so the only promise to give is a day to live,
and part the one with the other.

Considering the wisdom of our past errors,
to hear the youngest generation ask
"Why do I do it this way?" feels so
new: the promise of a new day.

[a][b]

(Repeat song)

The Army (Ben Folds Five)

Language: Portuguese

So yesterday was the actual last day I worked, and I was the last person not related to the owner to work, and that was all kind of interesting, in a way, but it's beside the point now, since now I have to come up with something else to do. Hence the song.

So far, the only place that I've found that I would actually like to work in is a greenhouse / garden center which is . . . well, not too far away from my place, and I'm pretty sure I could handle the work, and I think I'd probably even enjoy it some, a little, but unfortunately they put up the sign saying that they were hiring and then the person in charge of hiring went on vacation for a week. Or so I was told on Saturday. Which means I'm in limbo.

It might even have been two weeks, actually, since I didn't get called about it yesterday, and I'm pretty sure nobody's called my references either.

Late January is a very bad time of year to be looking for work in a college town: all the students are back, so every place is back up to their normal amount of business, but on the other hand, they have all already hired the people they need in the last couple weeks, and it is going to take a while for the various employers to find out that they hired some jerkoffs, which means that people will be hiring again in a month, but for right now there's almost nothing. So the greenhouse thing is all I've even seen since the announcement came that the grocery store was folding. It might yet work out for me, since it's at least a job I really want, and I only need the one job, but there's some waiting to experience first. And probably some more looking. And thinking.

-Jessi

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

Well I thought Dad said,
"The army is rising, son; you are high,"
and I thought, yeah, a first time for everything.
So I made an examination of my old man's advice,
over three semesters, where "sad"
was the only thought in the fifteen great bed expenses.
I left the army to fall for itself
and joined a band instead.

I grew one moustache, and one mullet, and
started a work in the Chic-Fil-A.
Citing differences, that band broke: inside it, that artistic thing.
And in June, without me, it remodelled
and started a different name. I nuked
the apple pie of my other grandma, and
hung my head in the shame.

Very much thinking today.
Thinking very much today.

Oh! I think I will write one screenplay.
Oh, I think I will examine the make of LA.
Oh, I think that I will start it yesterday. (Done!)

At this time of introspection,
in the eve of my election,
I say to my god of the reflection,
"please cause more rejection." For the care of
my pairs, I criticize myself,
and my former wives all despise me.
Behind me, it's all for the attempt,
but my jumps are pinching my rednecks.

I have thought
I have thought today, very much.
I have thought that today, very much today --
I thought on the army.

Good-Bye to You (Michelle Branch)

("She's a sad tomato" --R. E. M., "Crush With Eyeliner")
Language: German

Well. So originally, the idea was to keep the store open until about the end of the month, but everybody's exhausted, and there's not much stuff left, so it's looking more like sometime this weekend. Possibly even today, though I think that's unlikely. In any case, it's going to be my last day.

Which is fine, though I still don't have anything to go to yet, not really having had the time to look into much. Still nothing from the possible job (which I really want -- plant-related). My co-workers mostly have moved on already, which good for them, I guess. I had hoped to maybe get everybody together one last time, ideally with alcohol, but I don't think there's time left to coordinate something like that, so probably nothing is going to happen to mark the occasion.

I don't actually know if I'm sad or not, but in either event, this is kind of an appropriate song. Goodbye to something, for sure.

UPDATE: Well, maybe not the last day after all. About a 50-50 chance I'm working Monday too. But for all practical purposes, today was it.

-Jessi

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

I believed all the things inside that, which
I would like to keep straight. Moreover, with it
behind my eyes, tears form,
but I do not cry.
Counting the past days leads me.

I descend into my soul, have deep
words, become old. I begin to search for that audition,
like I believe it again.
The last three straight years were pretend?
I said,

[a]
Good-bye to you,
good-bye to everything I thought. (I knew that.)
You were that which I loved,
the one thing I tried, which also held on.

I keep still in your eyes, lost
without you, and it seems that I cannot live. One day,
my thoughts closed away, and my eyes are
made blind by the light. I am in a place to hunt, which
isn't quite

[a]

At the same time, I wish nothing. It hurt to wish over everything, and
what is mine is theirs. And I wish . . . what?
I wish for you, which
this time, don't give it to me.

[a]

And if the stars fall,
I'm awake. You lied,
my shooting star.

Stayin' Alive (Bee Gees)

Language: German

Well. So the going-out-of-business sale continues apace, and the percent reduction in prices continues to increase (it's now up to 40%), and I'm hanging in there, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't going to be happy when it was over. Most days, we're selling about four times as much stuff as we were over Christmas, and there are about half as many people to do this, so I'm working, I figure, about nine times harder than I was just a few weeks ago. And even that was sometimes exhausting.

I have more or less made my peace with the closing, I suppose. I have one possible job to move to, though I haven't interviewed for anything, and it's been a few days now since I brought in the application and haven't gotten called back. Not sure if that signifies anything or not: I'd follow up by going in or something, except that I have no time in the morning to do anything, and I get home from work after this other place is closed already. So at least until the weekend, I guess I just have to keep my fingers crossed and hope to get a call.

The customers continue to be stupid. I try to help them regardless. I babysit their groceries¹, I find products for them (when we have then -- we're obviously out of a lot of things right now), I even double check to make sure that the discount is getting applied to all the stuff it's supposed to be getting applied to². And a lot of them whine and bitch and accuse me of keeping their receipts and act like I should carry their groceries a couple blocks out the door for them³ anyway. We're still getting the occasional question about whether there's a sale going on -- this two weeks after the original announcement was made, with about 3/4 of the items gone from the shelves, and giant-print signs by every entrance. God, I hate people.

-Jessi

¹A completely ridiculous percentage of customers, exclusively women over the age of 50, don't want to push a cart around or carry a basket: they want to leave their stuff at the checkout counter and then wander back and forth. I'm not sure why this is happening -- if carrying a basket is too heavy, then use a cart -- but the leading theory is pathological egocentrism. I am always tempted when people do this to start re-shelving their stuff, though so far I haven't.

²For some reason, certain products aren't in the system to take the discount. It's easy enough to figure out whether everything got it that was supposed to, and easy enough to correct if something didn't ring in right, but it does take extra time and effort.

³There actually is a customer like this. She has a bad back, she says. Also she has/had breast cancer. But she's so personally nasty -- mostly just to me -- that I come away a little disappointed that the cancer didn't finish her off. And she seems to think that because she has a bad back, we should be willing to carry her groceries up several flights of stairs to the parking garage next door for her. As opposed to her coming out of the parking garage and pulling up to our door like everybody else. I knew, the first time we agreed to do this for her, that it was trouble, because then she'd expect us to do it every other time. Yesterday was the first time in months that she ever didn't request that, but she ruined the moment by making a point of telling me that she would carry her stuff out herself, like I should be grateful or something.

She's also so slow one always suspects she's doing it on purpose to fuck with people, so every time she shows up, the lines start getting really long. She's never given any indication that she notices this or cares about it. I wish her tumors. Big honking tumors.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Explain to me the way property can use you.
I'm the man of a woman: no time to speak.
Music loud and warm, a woman myself,
I've stepped around since I was born.
And now it's completely OK. It is.
And you can look the other way.
We can try to understand
the effect of the New York Times on man.

Whether you are a brother, mother, or nut, you
remain alive, and remain alive.
He shakes the city, and each one who believes, breaks,
and remains alive, remaining alive for us.
Ah, hectar, hectar, hectar: lasting, and remaining alive.
Ah, hectar, hectar, hectar: lasting, alive.

Now, I keep low wells, and I keep high
also, and if I cannot receive, I really try not to.
My shoes' wings received the sky.
I'm not a dancing straight man, and I can lose.
They know that it's completely OK. It is.
I live in order to see another day.
We can try to understand
the effect of the New York Times on man.

Whether you are a brother, mother, or nut, you
remain alive, and remain alive.
He shakes the city, and each one who believes, breaks,
and remains alive, remaining alive for us.
Ah, hectar, hectar, hectar: lasting, and remaining alive.
Ah, hectar, hectar, hectar: lasting, alive.

Someone help me: life doesn't go anywhere!
Someone help me, yeah.
Someone help me: life doesn't go anywhere!
Someone help me remain alive, yeah.

Explain to me the way property can use you.
I'm the man of a woman: no time to speak.
Music loud and warm, a woman myself,
I've stepped around since I was born.
And now it's completely OK. It is.
And you can look the other way.
We can try to understand
the effect of the New York Times on man.

Whether you are a brother, mother, or nut, you
remain alive, and remain alive.
He shakes the city, and each one who believes, breaks,
and remains alive, remaining alive for us.
Ah, hectar, hectar, hectar: lasting, and remaining alive.
Ah, hectar, hectar, hectar: lasting, alive.

Someone help me: life doesn't go anywhere!
Someone help me, yeah.
Someone help me: life doesn't go anywhere!
Someone help me remain alive, yeah.