There are some artists, usually female and robust, that I buy exclusively so that I can sing along to their music while driving in my car.
The attraction is not that I particularly care for their lyrics. And the attraction is not that I like their sound. Usually, I find the subject matter insipid and the instrumental backing to be washed out and uninspired. (Oh no! He broke my heart and I had to leave him to the sound of righteous piano and gentle guitars! And if he ever comes near me again, we might have to get some bass in this piece!)
No, the attraction is that I am quite jealous of these singers' vocal abilities and wish to improve my own by seeing if I can hit the same notes and sustain them for the same unholy number of beats and make it sound somewhat passable.
Of course, it probably sounds more like I'm repeatedly stabbing a cat with a sharpened shard of bone than like I'm the next Sara Bareilles, but back off. I have the right to sound awful while driving in my car, regardless of whoever else is with me!
Over the past years, I have accumulated quite a few musical selections by these "Belters." My iPod, in addition to my beloved Anberlin and Fall Out Boy, now contains albums by divas whose main selling points are their high notes, such as Kelly Clarkson, Adele, Colbie Caillat, and Brandi Carlile. Indeed, my library is inundated with throaty voices and subjects I just don't care about.
But that's okay. It's not like I'm actually repeatedly shanking a helpless kitten. It's only my passengers' ears.
11/20/11
11/12/11
In the World of SD....
Good news! Steward House finally saw fit to post the contest winnings for September, and "Reparamus" was the winning (only) piece. I am proud of it, although I am utterly ambivalent about the review it received.
Furthermore, Keayva Mitchell continues to astound me (and Steward House) with her literary prowess. That girl's voice is one of the most entertaining I've had the pleasure of reading lately, and considering how much I read (incorrigible book slut, that's me), that's not a compliment to discount. Check out her latest winnings (yes, plural) here. Warning: Keayva is not for those who don't care to think. Then again, I'm not for people who don't care to think either, so I suppose you're in the right place.
Ordinary news! Due to the fact that my body is disintegrating around my mind, I am having difficulty keeping my creative juices flowing as they have been this past year. I simply do not have enough mind to spare to deal with school, dance, blog posts, poetry, Pluck the Petals From a Daisy, and the Never Ending Migraine (like the Never Ending Story, but less entertaining). Therefore, I will be directing any creativity toward my beloved Carnelia Bellis. That is not to say that I will not be posting at all; I will simply not be posting frequently. However, Carnelia Bellis sends her greetings from my flashdrive, and hopes to be greeting you from bookstore shelves within the next three years. Wish her luck.
However, I am looking to expand this blog. I want you (my adored readers) to have something new, different, and entertaining to read. In short, I am looking for another writer to post here. If you write, and think that your prose pieces are any combination of witty, philosophical, beautiful, clever, lyrical, sassy, sardonic, and entertaining, and if you are willing to post here for (limited) recognition, my (oven-fresh cookie caliber) gratitude, my (relatively meaningless) endorsement of your work, and your own satisfaction, here's what you need to do:
As I receive applications, I will respond to them with an "I might be interested and here's why; let's talk about the possibilities" or an "I'm not interested and here's why; thank you so much for applying." At a minimum, you will get some detailed feedback on your work and some love for being a writer.
I will stop accepting applications on Dec. 20, 2011. I will announce the new writer (or writers, who knows?) on Dec. 25, 2011, and Southern Ineloquence will ring in 2012 with a new addition.
Oh, and you need not be southern to apply. ;)
I look forward to hearing from y'all.
Furthermore, Keayva Mitchell continues to astound me (and Steward House) with her literary prowess. That girl's voice is one of the most entertaining I've had the pleasure of reading lately, and considering how much I read (incorrigible book slut, that's me), that's not a compliment to discount. Check out her latest winnings (yes, plural) here. Warning: Keayva is not for those who don't care to think. Then again, I'm not for people who don't care to think either, so I suppose you're in the right place.
Ordinary news! Due to the fact that my body is disintegrating around my mind, I am having difficulty keeping my creative juices flowing as they have been this past year. I simply do not have enough mind to spare to deal with school, dance, blog posts, poetry, Pluck the Petals From a Daisy, and the Never Ending Migraine (like the Never Ending Story, but less entertaining). Therefore, I will be directing any creativity toward my beloved Carnelia Bellis. That is not to say that I will not be posting at all; I will simply not be posting frequently. However, Carnelia Bellis sends her greetings from my flashdrive, and hopes to be greeting you from bookstore shelves within the next three years. Wish her luck.
However, I am looking to expand this blog. I want you (my adored readers) to have something new, different, and entertaining to read. In short, I am looking for another writer to post here. If you write, and think that your prose pieces are any combination of witty, philosophical, beautiful, clever, lyrical, sassy, sardonic, and entertaining, and if you are willing to post here for (limited) recognition, my (oven-fresh cookie caliber) gratitude, my (relatively meaningless) endorsement of your work, and your own satisfaction, here's what you need to do:
- Choose a poetic vignette, a philosophical rambling, a brief essay, or a review of a literary work.
- Choose a short story.
- Choose a clever moniker (eg, Southern Darling) that you would want to post under.
As I receive applications, I will respond to them with an "I might be interested and here's why; let's talk about the possibilities" or an "I'm not interested and here's why; thank you so much for applying." At a minimum, you will get some detailed feedback on your work and some love for being a writer.
I will stop accepting applications on Dec. 20, 2011. I will announce the new writer (or writers, who knows?) on Dec. 25, 2011, and Southern Ineloquence will ring in 2012 with a new addition.
Oh, and you need not be southern to apply. ;)
I look forward to hearing from y'all.
11/5/11
Interlude
I hope you can feel how much I want you right now.
Yes, you're far away, probably distracted, more concerned with thoughts of your studies than with thoughts of me.
All the same, I hope you can feel the dangerous tilt to my head, the slight arch to my back, and the lazy, predatory caress of my gaze through the miles that separate us. I am deadly and vulnerable and you - beautiful and strong as you are -
You are mine.
So put down your pencil. Turn away from your desk. Sit back in your chair.
Bury your hands in my hair as I wrap one hand around the back of your neck and pull you into an entangling, branding, devouring, beseeching, exposing kiss.
Realize that I am not really there, although I still want you, still think of you, still miss you.
Turn back to your desk.
Carry on.
Yes, you're far away, probably distracted, more concerned with thoughts of your studies than with thoughts of me.
All the same, I hope you can feel the dangerous tilt to my head, the slight arch to my back, and the lazy, predatory caress of my gaze through the miles that separate us. I am deadly and vulnerable and you - beautiful and strong as you are -
You are mine.
So put down your pencil. Turn away from your desk. Sit back in your chair.
Bury your hands in my hair as I wrap one hand around the back of your neck and pull you into an entangling, branding, devouring, beseeching, exposing kiss.
Realize that I am not really there, although I still want you, still think of you, still miss you.
Turn back to your desk.
Carry on.
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