::pokes Elfwood:: Please say it’s just my computer acting funny…
Cherise: In some Arab countries, women are beaten for just putting their left hand out.
Me: How do they do the Hokey Pokey?
Would you believe it? My necklace broke AGAIN! I think I’m going to have to get a new cord and a new claps and try to redo it. Bah.
The Dakota (by Christine Lavin)
This song was written about John Lennon’s death, but it’s been stuck in my mind a lot recently, especially when I think about Tuesday’s disaster. I reccomend downloading it if you can find it anywhere, or better yet, buying a copy of “What Was I Thinking”, which has a lot of her songs that I really love. Anyway, I wanted to post the lyrics, so here they are.
It was a Monday morning, I was coming in from a long trip on the road
I flagged a cab down near the East Side Terminal; I said “Please take me home”.
We drove up along Third Avenue and crossed through Central Park.
When we came out at 72nd street, I felt a chill in my heart.
Every time I see the Dakota, I think about that night.
Shots ringing out, the angry shouts, a man losing his life.
Well it’s something we shouldn’t dwell upon but it’s something we shouldn’t ignore.
Too many good men have been cut down. Let’s pray there won’t be any more.
Rush hour traffic was bottled up. We slowly inched by.
I didn’t want to look, but I couldn’t help staring at the scene of the crime.
There was an old man sweeping last night’s dirt out of a darkened vestibule
And a uniformed guard in a gold-trimmed cap watching the world pass into view
But very time I see the Dakota, I think about that night.
Shots ringing out, the angry shouts, a man losing his life.
Well it’s something we shouldn’t dwell upon but it’s something we shouldn’t ignore.
Too many good men have been cut down. Let’s pray there won’t be any more.
I don’t believe in coincidence, so why then on the radio
did an old familiar voice echo back from not so long ago
He said: “Imagine all the people living life in peace”
Oh, that’s hard to do when you’re on his bloodstained street
I wish I had the answer to the simple question “why?”.
I wish this taxi would go faster, oh I wish the driver would try
To leave this street and leave this old building far behind.
I wish if Barbara Walters wants to interview murderers she changes her mind.
But every time I see the Dakota, I still think about that night.
Shots ringing out, the angry shouts, a man losing his life.
Well it’s something we shouldn’t dwell upon but it’s something we shouldn’t ignore.
Too many good men have been cut down. Let’s pray there won’t be any more.
Imagine all the people living life in peace.
We had to write love letters to ourselves for Yoga class, which is my P.E. for this quarter. Fun stuff. Here’s my lovely letter.
Dearest Priscilla, how I love you. You are truly the woman for me. You are more beautiful than Hillary Clinton. Your hair cascades down your shoulders like a herd of wild goats stampeding down Mount Everest. Your eyes are two tubs of blue Jell-O. Your teeth are like white Chicklets. Your lips are the color of strawberry jam on toast. Your nose turns up like the ski jump of love. Your breasts are like two pinheads on a breadboard. Your figure is like a beanpole in the Garden of Eden. Marry me.
Your not so secret admirer
I hope Ms. Childers has a good sense of humor. XD
I just got this mental image of a “Newsies” parody about life on the internet called “Newbies”. Typos are truly the spark for creative genius.
I don’t think Mrs. Felice is too keen on letting us do “Mort” for the Spring play. Bah. Oh well. ::trods off::
Hell. My brain just made the connection. In addition to being the date of the State BEST robotics competition and the 3rd “Ten Little Indians” production, November 16th is also the opening day for Harry Potter. Isn’t this an interesting development.
I need the Tick, Tick … Boom! cd. Otherwise Renata will hurt me. Jonathan Larson is God.
Fun stuff today! As I mentioned yesterday, I spent the night with my groovy aunt and uncle. In the morning, my aunt made us biscuits, scrambled eggs, and bacon. She makes perfect bacon. Not too crispy, not too fat, not too raw. PERFECT bacon. I worship this bacon. The biscuits were to die for, too. Then my uncle took me to school on his motorcycle (!) for the Junior Car Wash, where I got to hang out with Mack and Chungy and many other cool people and wash cars. JaMes Sloan and Julia Ford were standing on the street, waving posters, filking various songs to try to get people to come to the car wash. My personal favourite was to the tune of “Lady Marmalade”:
Getcha getcha getcha car washed
Getcha getcha car washed here
Getcha getcha getcha car washed
Get it washed at HockadayVoulez-vous lavez avec moi, ce soir?
Voulez-vous lavez avec moi?
We all laughed.
Anyway, afterwards, we had a JETS meeting. We didn’t get a lot done, but we had fun. Loh showed us this really cool chalk line thingie that we all got to play with, Marcelina and Rachel talked about Farscape, a bunch of us made jokes about what was beyond the green glass doors**, and we just had fun in general.
Now I’m going to lunch.
**See if you can figure out why things are behind the green glass doors and why some things aren’t! Priscilla, Ann, Sannali, Rebecca, and Kell are behind the green class doors, but Tanja is not. Harry and Ginny are, but Percy, Hermione, and Ron are not. Carrot, Cheery, and Nobby are, but Angua, Vimes, and Rincewind are not. Balloons are, but string is not. See how far that gets you. I’ll explain in a later entry.