Monday, November 30, 2015

Happy Birthday, Lucy Maud Montgomery!

Today, I opened my Facebook to discover this delightful doodle by Google doodler Olivia Huynh, posted by "Stuff You May Have Missed in History Class," which is a podcast I listen to regularly!



It's Lucy Maud Montgomery's 141st Birthday!

You can read what Google reported about LMM, or "Maud," as us uber fans call her, HERE:

If you don't know the delights of Lucy Maud Montgomery-

"Oh, Marilla, you don't know what you're missing!"

Most likely you have a cultural awareness of Anne of Green Gables, or as Carlo tells me she is known in Italy, "Anna da Cappelli Rossi." (Anne of the Red Hair.) You may have seen the CBC/ PBS movies staring Megan Follows or heard of Jonathan Crombie (aka Gilbert)'s untimely death last spring. Perhaps you are reading this blog because you are one of my childhood pen friends from across the globe, connected by a newsletter devoted to Anne, Maud, Emily of New Moon, Pat, the Blue Island, Victoria Magazine or baking vanilla liniment cakes.

Those of you who don't know this whimsical obsession of mine- those of you who know me as a powerhouse, or as an opera singer, or as a former rock singer, or as a writer of mystical memoir, or as a purveyor of raunchy and funny one woman shows, may now be going, "huh?"

Let me tell you just a little bit about why I love these books, this author, and what the books and their birth mother have meant to me over the years.

I first encountered Anne of Green Gables through the CBC/ PBS movie. PBS was not only one of the few channels we were allowed to watch at leisure as children, it was also one of the only channels we got in what was then a little house on the edge of a big forest (since replaced by housing developments.) I LOVED Anne and identified with her- constantly having adventures, and then constantly getting in trouble for being misunderstood for those adventures! I bought the books through my elementary school's book sales program. There used to be these little two or three page book catalogs (was it called Apple Books?) printed on newspaper style paper and you would pre-order the books for $1.25 or so. I DEVOURED the first Anne book and then began obsessively reading everything the woman ever wrote. Even in high school- I may have been writing essays on "The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand (not a fan) or "The Great Gatsby" by F. Scott Fitzgerald (I am a fan) for A.P. English, but my free time was spent up in a tree or at the local coffee shop (JAVA JOINT!) reading Anne. (And King Arthur books, and others, but a lot of Anne.) As a teenager, I was romantic, poetic, deep, and although I had a group of friends, I really felt the most MYSELF as a lone wolf wandering through those disappearing woods.

The best trip I ever went on- with humble respect- was when my mother took me and my sister to Prince Edward Island, the native land of the esteemed author. We had so much fun peeking into craft shops, bookstores, and driving to remote parts of the island where the waters were wild. 

In college, the journals of LMM came out. It was, looking back, probably not the best idea to have been reading them at that time, for LMM suffered greatly from depression and many disappointments in life. She had such high ideals and so many aspects of her life seemed to fall short of those ideals. I shared that same problem in life- when a person has such an illustrious romantic imagination, and wants desperately to believe in the goodness- nay- GREATNESS- of oneself and others- then.... as a former life coach used to say, "Wanna be disappointed? Make an appointment." Meaning: attachment to outcome will disappoint you because it will so rarely go that way. Things will not look the way you THINK they should look. 

My shrink in rehab took away my Sylvia Plath books- ("Maybe best not to read the Bell Jar while you're going through this," Judy had said.) but I retained my LMM Journals.

Now, as an adult who has far surpassed those difficult times and replaced the wallow and misery with the sort of wisdom only pain can bring, and who looks for the opportunity ALWAYS in each obstacle, I understand why I loved Anne first, but TRULY loved Emily of New Moon, another of her heroines, more: 

Anne is what we would like to be. She looks always for the goodness and the possibility, and grows deeply into her own womanly wisdom despite great difficulties (being an orphan, being a red head, SPOLIER: losing a child.)

Emily is closer to our truthful experience of life as deeply sensitive, acutely aware, yet dreamy creators of story. 

What I aim to be now is THE STORY GIRL, Sarah Stanley, one who travels the world telling and writing her stories. Why? Because stories are how we feel ourselves back- or not- and therefore how we fathom what it means to be human.

The value and beauty of life, of nature, of relationships... In my heart and mind, I do feel that THESE are the things that will return humanity to a semblance of sanity. These are the things LMM offers with her characters and writing- heroines for us all to learn from, laugh with, feel delight and horror and comfort in.

That's what LMM has given to me.

That photo above is Prince Edward Island-
sure does give you a lot of "scope for imagination," eh?

“There's such a lot of different Annes in me. I sometimes think that is why I'm such a troublesome person. If I was just the one Anne it would be ever so much more comfortable, but then it wouldn't be half so interesting.”
L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables  


Friday, November 27, 2015

Fiction Fridays, November 27th, 2015: THE ONE, ORIGINAL VERSION, Downloadable PDF; notes on Thanksgiving, being broke, and a poem response to T.S. Eliot

Hey everyone!

As promised, here is a dropbox link to download the PDF of the script of the original version:

https://www.dropbox.com/s/wkgri4h03inzf6w/THE%20ONE%20ORIGINAL%20VERSION.pdf?dl=0


I will NOT be Black Friday shopping today, did you? Thankfully, I'm too broke to do Christmas shopping this year, and I say that quite honestly, because it is all so overwhelming and I'd prefer to write poems and bake stuff over buying (mostly) junk that people forget about a few weeks later. I will tell you, my life as an artist hasn't always been so low income, but this year has also involved a lot of projects that I put my money into instead of those that paid me. Sometimes that happens. During those times, I find other reasons to celebrate.

So, coupled into this Fiction Fridays post with the download of "The One," I thought I would just write a wee bit about what I have learned about the beauty of life as a low income, working class artist. This may or may not be different than the beauties associated with life as a high income, upper class artist; this may or may not be different than the beauties associated with life as a low income, working class non-artist.

See, I've been extra broke lately. I have some sense deep inside that we're not supposed to talk about being broke- part of it is my midwestern pride, perhaps, not too proud to admit the truth, but a sense that hard work should make you money, right?

(Did 2008 teach us nothing?)

And then there's the whole privacy vs. transparency thing.

Then there's "branding" and the presentation of glamour.

Then there's the trade-off of values. Like, I work a lot, and I have chosen to put most of my income this year into my one woman show, moving, a video project, and continuing investing in vocal coachings. So, that means I cannot afford to visit family in the midwest this year. That was my choice, and the tradeoff, and some years I can have both and some years I choose the family oer the reinvestment in my artistic life.

I have been up an down financially quite a lot in my life, which has led to some incredible life experience already, and I'm only 1/3.... ah, more like... 3/7 of the way through! I won't detail too many of those life experiences here, but I've done everything from sell all my possessions to move into a touring van (a 1973 Rogue RV) to travel with my band- to sing for royalty- to live in the back seat of my car for a few days in between apartments- to volunteer with lepers- to attend a royal wedding as a guest- to meet with shamans- to massage the rich and famous- to massage the worker bees- to sing opera, to perform standup, and etc. I think it's cool, and it's part of how I consider my life values in the face of some of the things I *don't* have that many of my peers do.... like wedding photo albums and mortgages.

So in really lean times, like the last fast months, I have long stopped freaking out. I'm scrappy. I can hustle. I'll be fine. I have long stopped letting my income define my "worth," whether that be from a cultural capitalist point of view OR a spiritually-material manifesting point of view.

Instead, I start to consider how much we really are in this together, and I start paying attention to some of the more beautiful, simple aspects of being alive:

-The way my dog never tires of playing fetch
-The way my friend Tom baked me my favorite dessert, a lemon merengue pie, from scratch
-The way my friends make me laugh
-The way the leaves dance in a cool breeze
-The way my sweetheart Carlo is so loving and dear
-The way my mother worries
-The way my brother in law's niece, last night at Thanksgiving, at 9 years old, had the idea to have everyone go around the room, stating what they were thankful for
-The rebrith in every moment

And of course, I am grateful to be me. I have multiple skills and jobs (and degrees) (but only one college loan left to payoff!). I live in a city and a country where I have more freedom than many to pursue my dreams, and anything can happen in an instant... and every day I fight the sense of nihilism that too much freedom of choice with a true sense of purpose can bring....

("Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse."
-from "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot)

I wrote a poem in response to this, one of my former favorite poems by Eliot, posted many years ago but which I will repost now, here:



 
The Love Song of E. Elizabeth Prufrock

 by Erin Elizabeth Muir

Amidst my avocations, distraction and demons,
and music, strains from another room.
Today the metamorphose is incomplete, and I have awakened as J. Alfred.
I am falling, again and again I am falling, you see,
and willfully, and against my will, an ancient pain,
sweetly, sensually, unrootable:
vines from a mobius strip wrapping round my body,
chains made of a flesh eating green, like a venus fly trap,
a nature, a desire. I want it. I fear it. It is me. It is he. It is all of us at once.

and words and words and words
and the poet sings
in dreams the message is perfect
but waking, she becomes ineffectual in her babel tower.
beautiful, and desirous, and possibly quite mad.

If ever I had known how to never
allow bitterness in my heart,
then I am child-like now, and so imagine my
shock at my own self-dismay,
as from all my shadows emerge, dusty, now dusting off the drapery,
the drudgery, engaging, on fire, a Demon.
like the brightest star that fell from the heavens,
plunging e’er deeper into the murky sludge, the far corners of paradise,
rising up now, the mists of eternity clearing way for that
truth greater than all facts and figures, the inhuman form
which whispering, places a single icicle of fear in my heart.

Oh, love! To be Juliet. To have died within moments of the first sweet lock,
to never know the other side of purity.
But I am not asleep, and nor am I awake.
I am breathless, I am all the breathing of the sky,
a billion stars shining in the heavens,
a single pebble on the sand.

No, I am no J. Alfred. Nor was meant to be.
And in the room, the girls giggle, talking of

nothing.

I am not walking on the beach, trousers rolled. I am not standing on the balcony, I am not sculpting David, I am not whimpering and I am not banging, I am singing-

I am singing!
 (Each to each.) Which means-
the mermaid-
is me.

ah, drawing breath again, do I dare to be a human?
Emerging from this sea of crystal thoughts, wearing a crown of anemone and kelp?
Do you see? These waves are your dreams,
and these pink shells are recompense for your hopes that washed away
where once you wrote them along the beach,
and these glistening pearls within are made rarer, truer, more valuable in your eyes.

If you say so, I will remove my fishy scales,
lay down my cerulean triton, and emerge
                                                           

a woman.

And if I say so, too, then the human voices waking us shall be our own.



(and it will have been worth it, and we will never know what we meant.)






END POEM.






So, yeah! I may be broke, but I can still find ways to eat well (careful planning!), see movies (free screenings thanks to The Wrap and the SAG Foundation!), hang out with friends (we go to each other's houses rather than bars or cafes!), see family (not really, but Skype!), and love life (look around for the beauty. Trust me, I share a birthday with David Foster Wallace, Nina Simone, and Anais Nin. I share their distress at the violence and hatred of humanity and their love of beauty and profundity, and if *I* can make it work, I know you can, too!)

The only question is how to bake Star Wars legos for my godson's birthday next week. Hmmm.... ;-p

XX

Monday, November 23, 2015

Music Mondays: November 23rd, revisiting some oldies but goodies

Hey, y'all!

It's Music Monday!

I know we all have Adele's new hit, "Hello," in our heads, and if you didn't see the SNL Thanksgiving sketch about it, do yourself a favor and watch it!

But if you're looking for some more goofy fun, here's a little treat from me, directed by Joshua Dragotta. It's a sort of weird, burlesque comedy interpretation of the wonderful song "Zip" from Pal Joey.... 

 
 


Until next time- I'm hard at work finishing my websites (www.worldoferin.com) and prepping in the studio to record some songs for my 2016 Challenge!


 
 

Saturday, November 21, 2015

Fiction Fridays, November 20th, 2015. The One, Version Two, Scenes 8, 9, 10, 11, and the End!

Good morning  y'all! Yup, it's Saturday. But since my 2016 Challenge hasn't quite yet begun, I forgive myself for being a day late! LOL. (Sorry! I was busy editing StandUpera, walking my dog, fixing my phone, writing a song for said challenge, going to hear my friend Jeremy Weinglass play a gig at Caufield's in Beverly Hills, watching The Knick, working on the hotline, and then writing more of that song for my challenge! I MEANT to get to Fiction Fridays, I really did, and this is a good lesson for me in first things should come first!)

So, unofficially officially since August, I've been publishing the monologues and the scenes from the second version of my first one woman show, titled, "The One." This one woman show was based in truth, but a lot of it was fictionalized, you know, for the sake of snappy storytelling. I borrowed some stories from my life, and then heightened them.

Anyway, Here are scenes 8, 9 and 10, plus what I did for Encores. This particular script was from my performance in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in June 2011; it became the script for subsequent performances until I wrote the screenplay version. Next week I'll post chapter by chapter the fiction book version of the screenplay. I'm very proud of the screenplay, but it's not really suitable for film yet, and far more enjoyable as a book, so you will be able to read it as a sort of fun tell all book.

Anyway, if you are a performer and you want to use one of these monologues, or a part of one of these monologues, have at it. If you film it, just credit me, please. Mmthanks.

During the Minneapolis performance, for the following scenes, I sang the songs:

Love Moves In Mysterious Ways by Dean Pitchford and Tom Snow
A Sleepin' Bee by Harold Arlen and Truman Capote (yes! Truman Capote!)
Lush Life by Billy Strayhorn
Sober by Erin Muir
Feeling Good by Anthony Newley and Leslie Briucusse

encores

La Vie En Rose by Louiguy
Black Butterfly by Erin Muir


 

Scene Eight


Beginning at stand CS

            I had just returned to my apartment in Los Angeles from a trip to Target. As I was unpacking water filters, coffee and toilet paper, my roommate asked me, “Have you ever been to the Furnace? No, not the one downstairs. The bar that’s like four blocks from here? Oh, Erin,” she said, “You should go. There are some cute guys there!!”

            She kept talking (make a puppet hand motion- yap yap yap) but for me, time stopped. Something was stirring deep inside me.

            “And also I noticed that you have left that book by the bathtub open to page 24 for weeks…. Erin? Erin? ERIN!?”

            “Sorry. Yeah. You’re right. We should go sometime.”

            One week later, we went. I felt so nervous walking in. I didn’t know why. Until I looked up just as the band was taking the stage. I saw him. His eye caught mine.

            I barely took my eyes off him the whole night. Linda left early, but not me. I stayed and listened and watched… and felt. It was as if I had met him before in a dream. I didn’t even know his name. But I knew his heart.

            At the end of the night, I went looking for him. Unfortunately, it was at that exact moment that some other guy decided to hit on me. But I got rid of him fast by talking about what we would name our future children. Matilda, Horace, Stephanie and Hank.

            Next: Mission Find Hot Musician. I looked out and I saw his bandmate, smoking a cigarette (say it with subtext). Uh huh! I know. Where there’s one musician… there’s bound to be more. So I walked outside and introduced myself to his bandmate. And then, that stirring. I turned around.

            There he was. Leaning up against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, smiling at me with his dimples and his newsboy cap.

            “There you are,” I said!

            “There you are,” he said.

            I hated him for being so cute.

            His friend tried to introduce us.

            “This is Erin! Erin, this is…”

            “I know Erin.”

            His bandmate looked confused.

            “How do you know Erin.”

            “Eighth grade,” I lied.

            “And Erin had to run around with every guy but me.”

            “I only ran around with all those guys to make you jealous because you were always with that girl.”

            “Stephanie Martinez?”

            “Stephanie Martinez!”

            “Erin. She was meaningless. I was just using her to make you jealous.”

            His friend tipped his hat and left.

            “Now that we got that out of the way, can I get your number?”

            A while later, I had walked home as the moon blossomed. It was a warm June night, 2 am.

            My phone rang.

            “Hello,” I answered.

            He said, “I was gonna walk you to your car.”

            “You couldn’t walk me to my car, because I walked from home.”

            He said, “Then I was gonna walk you home.”

            “Where are you”

            “The bar is just closing.”

Opening chords to Love Moves in Mysterious Ways. STRETCH!

            So I got up, I got dressed, and I walked back to the bar so he could walk me home. And in those four blocks, we talked of cabbages and kings and everything we could pack into five minutes. Then we got to my house.

            “Here we are,” I said.

            And he said,

            “Here we are.”

WHO’D HAVE THOUGHT THIS IS HOW THE PIECES FIT
YOU AND I SHOULDN’T EVEN TRY MAKING SENSE OF IT
I FORGOT HOW WE EVER CAME THIS FAR
I BELIEVE WE HAD REASONS BUT I DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE
SO BLAME IT ON MY HEART, OH

LOVE MOVES IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS
IT’S ALWAYS SO SURPRISING
WHEN LOVE APPEARS OVER THE HORIZON
I’LL LOVE YOU FOR THE REST OF MY DAYS
BUT STILL IT’S A MYSTERY
HOW YOU EVER CAME TO ME
WHICH ONLY PROVES
LOVE MOVES
IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS….

HEAVEN KNOWS LOVE IS JUST A CHANCE WE TAKE
WE MAKE PLANS BUT THEN LOVE DEMANDS
A LEAP OF FAITH
SO HOLD ME CLOSE, NEVER EVER LET ME GO
‘CAUSE EVEN THOUGH WE NEED TO KNOW
WHICH WAY THE RIVER FLOWS
THAT’S NOT THE WAY LOVE GOES,
NO

LOVE MOVES IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS
IT’S ALWAYS SO SURPRISING
WHEN LOVE APPEARS OVER THE HORIZON
I’LL LOVE YOU FOR THE REST OF MY DAYS
BUT STILL IT’S A MYSTERY
HOW YOU EVER CAME TO ME
WHICH ONLY PROVES LOVE MOVES
IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS

Instrumental under the following spoken:

            He leaned in to kiss me.

            “You’re something else,” he said.

            “So are you,” I said, as we leaned in and kissed again.

            A car honked.

            “Hey!”

            “I have to tell you something. My drummer is also my roommate and my ride home. I made him follow us two blocks behind….

            …. I think I’d better go.”

            He squeezed my hand and with that and those dimples, he jumped into the car.

            (Sigh.) Was he the one? The one from the prophecy? I don’t know- I couldn’t be sure. How can you ever know until you’re looking back, years later? They say hindsight is 20.20 and while some guys look great on paper- like Friedrich the German, or even Josh at the time- there’s no denying those stirrings in your heart-
Take mic off stand
Put stand behind you
Finish with mic in hand

 and you just have to follow- follow wherever it takes you-

LIKE THE TICKING OF THE CLOCK
TWO HEARTS BEAT AS ONE
BUT I NEVER UNDERSTAND THE WAY IT’S DONE
NO
LOVE MOVES IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS
IT’S ALWAYS SO SURPISING
WHEN LOVE APPEARS OVER THE HORIZON
I’LL LOVE YOU FOR THE REST OF MY DAYS
BUT STILL IT’S A MYSTERY
HOW YOU EVER CAME TO ME
WHICH ONLY PROVES
LOVE MOVES IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS-
LOVE MOVES IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS

… I couldn’t tell if he was THE ONE…. But I will tell you… as I turned to walk back into my apartment at 3 am, while the pigeons and doves were just beginning to coo their pre-dawn song… I turned to my front door and saw a SLEEPING BEE on the door knob….

            BAND plays a sort of WHISP of SLEEPIN BEE

OR ERIN SINGS….

                        WHEN A BEE LIES SLEEPIN
                        IN THE PALM OF YOUR HAND….




SCENE NINE

            Love was about to take me somewhere I had never dreamed of.
           
            So, here was this love. This man I had dreamed of all my life. I had made that list, you know, all the qualities you want in a man: dark hair, green eyes, dimples, loves music and books and film, great kisser, poetic sensibility… loves wine... And of course, the prophecy…. and then…. my feeeeelings…. And if I could only begin to tell you the magic that started happening- you wouldn’t believe me, not even if we were all characters in a book by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, or in a fairy tale, or in a dream, even. I kept discovering ways we could have met and connections we had going back 15 years….

            He was something special.

            And mostly, he was something special, because he became a mirror for something much more valuable than what that gypsy had said… or maybe she saw but couldn’t have said, because how would I have believed it?

            See, the thing is, I had never actually given myself tools for IF someone really truly special came along. None of my relationships had worked out partially because I started out believing in fantasy and fairy tale, and those things never worked really, so then I started becoming VERY comfortable with unrequited love. In fact, that was more comfortable than letting go of a certain amount of fantasy….

            Two unrequited romantics. And I really was in love… he was everything on that list.

            But on that list, when I said, “loves wine,” I did not think to add, not an alcoholic. When I said, loves music and has poetic sensibility, I did not think to add, is willing to grow relationship skills. Shows me my lack of faith in working relationships. Gives me honest feedback which I can hear openly.

            So sometimes, when normal dating things happened, along side the magic, but normal things, like, he wouldn’t call me for a few days… things would get really intense really fast between us and then he’d be gone for four days, and, I wouldn’t call him, because I was used to men chasing me…

            I’d get really freaked out.

            And I’d have a drink.

            And then he’d call, and we’d have this amazing date, and then I wouldn’t hear from him for a few days again, and then I’d have… half a bottle of bourbon.

            Well, take one summer, add the most romantic relationship you’ve ever had tempered by what was probably normal time apart, mix in one guy with his own bullshit to deal with, one girl with no tools for handling poetic fantasy in the “real” world… and free flowing booze… It wasn’t long before I was waking up having no idea where I was, what I had done the night before, with a message from my guy on my phone… saying… You’re a little too much for me… I think you’re great… but what’s happening here is getting a little out of hand for me…

            And by the fall, it was over…

OPENING CHORDS TO LUSH LIFE:

            While I speak:

            And although I knew I had not been perfect- and I was grown up enough to know, we could have had something great but sometimes the most magnetic love isn’t free to exist in a world full of addiction and rent and responsibility…

            I was broken. Not just heart broken. But broken. I had no desire left but for two things: him, which I could not have… and the other?


            I USED TO VISIT ALL THE VERY GAY PLACES
            THOSE COME WHAT MAY PLACES
            WHERE ONE RELAXES ON THE AXIS OF THE WHEEL OF LIFE
            TO GET A FEEL FOR LIFE
            FROM JAZZ AND COCKTAILS
            THE GIRLS I KNEW HAD SAD AND SULLEN GREY FACES
            WITH DISTINGUE TRACES
            THAT USED TO BE THERE YOU COULD SEE WHERE THEY’D
            BEEN WASHED AWAY BY TOO MANY THROUGH THE DAY
            TWELVE O’CLOCK TALES

            THEN YOU CAME ALONG WITH YOUR SIREN SONG
            TO TEMPT ME TO MADNESS-
            I THOUGHT FOR A WHILE THAT YOUR POIGNANT SMILE
            WAS TINGED WITH THE SADNESS
            OF A GREAT LOVE FOR ME
            AH YES, I WAS WRONG
            AGAIN, I WAS WRONG

            LIFE IS LONELY AGAIN, AND ONLY LAST YEAR
            EVERY THING SEEMED SO SURE
            NOW LIFE IS AWFUL AGAIN
            A TROUGH FULL OF HEARTS COULD ONLY BE A BORE
            A WEEK IN PARIS COULD EASE THE BITE OF IT
            ALL I CARE IS TO SMILE IN SPITE OF IT
            I’LL FORGET YOU, I WILL, WHILE YET, YOU ARE STILL
            BURNING INSIDE MY BRAIN

            ROMANCE IS MUSH, STIFLING THOSE WHO STRIVE
            SO I’LL LIVE A LUSH LIFE IN SOME SMALL DIVE
            AND THERE I’LL BE WHILE I ROT WITH THE REST
            OF THOSE WHOSE LIVES ARE LONELY TOO……






SCENE TEN:

            The one who showed courage.

            So…

            Do you ever have those moments where you got really drunk the night before and wake up totally ashamed?

            Let’s just say…

            I experienced this a few times. I may or may not have been crazy drunk doing the following things:

            playing baseball with jack o lanterns dressed as Marilyn Monroe…

            flirting with the icon for an Italian cigarette company… before realizing the ICON had left and I was flirting with some homeless guy instead…

            Insisting I was a professional samba player and bursting up on stage and playing drums with a Samba legend at Zinc, a famous jazz bar in New York…

            claiming to be the 2003 Scrabble World Champion and making people google it… and when they couldn’t find me, looking for Parker Brothers’ phone number and calling and filing a complaint….

            calling the FBI to report a missing m from the bag of m & ms, tan. Tan has been missing since 1996…

            flirting with my ex’s nemesis, the bartender at his club… in front of him…

            ignoring my ex. pissing him off and

            waking up the next morning to a voice mail that said,

            “Erin, Call me. I need to ask you a favor.”

            So… that had been the night before. And although I woke up in my room, fully clothed on top of my bed, piecing a recollection of the night before together… I kept thinking that maybe, just maybe, the favor was… getting back together… maybe he was invited to a red carpet event and needed a pretty girl on his arm… maybe… he needed to borrow a cup of sugar?

            (Shakes head no.)

            No. Such. Luck.

            His favor?

            “Erin, hey. So, I’ve been clean and sober one week until last night. And I have no problem with you coming in and hearing me play. I have no problem with you hitting on other guys. Or having a drink. But watching you get plowed. And flirting with my enemies… and my friends… THAT. I have a problem with.”

            Speaking of moments of clarity. How could I have turned something so beautiful into something so textbook, cliché, pathetic, ruined?

OPENING CHORDS TO SOBER:

            WELL IT TURNS OUT I’M A DRINKER
            LET’S ADD IT TO THE LIST
            SEX AND BOOZE AND DRUGS AND BEIN’ SICK
            WHAT A SHOCK TO DISCOVER
            I’VE BEEN HURTIN’ EVERYBODY
            WHO’S EVER LOVED ME
            WITH PITY AND DRAMA AND BAD RELATIONSHIPS

            WELL I DIDN’T KNOW
            AND I STIL DON’T KNOW

            BUT I WILL REACH UP MY HANDS AND ASK THE MORNING SKY
            FOR A LITTLE BIT OF SUNLIGHT IF I PROMISE TO TRY
            I WON’T KEEP IT IN, I’LL GIVE MY LIGHT TO YOU
            STAND UP FOR MYSELF, OH LOVELY OLD WORLD
            THANK YOU

            WELL, I SING THIS PSALM,
            FOR ANYONE LISTENING
            BECAUSE A DEEP QUIVER OF LIGHT
            RUNS THROUGH MY VEINS
            WHAT I HAVE TO GIVE,
            AND WHAT YOU HEAR
            WOULD YOU TAKE IT, AND KISS IT,
            AND HOLD IT DEAR-

            WELL GOD MAKE IT USEFUL
            GOD MAKE IT USEFUL, OH PLEASE,

            AND I WILL HOLD UP MY HANDS AND ASK THE MORNING SKY
            FOR A LITTLE BIT OF SUNLIGHT IF I PROMISE TO TRY
            I WON’T KEEP IT IN, I’LL GIVE MY LIGHT TO YOU
            STAND UP FOR MYSELF, OH LOVELY OLD WORLD
            THANK YOU
            THANK YOU












SCENE ELEVEN:

            The One:

            So… A lot has happened since then. But to sum it all up, mostly, I discovered the common denominator in my world of love troubles was.... well....

            Here we are. The moment of truth. I will reveal who “the one” really is…

            (points to self.)

            After all, I was the one who saw the bee. I was the one who looked for all the markers of an amazing love life and let it take me through bands and jobs and different countries and different learning experiences… I think it’s a better use of dreams to look for where a prophecy takes you- all a reflection of my self- and to see who I am, again and again, and like it, or, at least, learn from it- THAT’S  a life worth living, prophecy, no prophecy, or prophecy of my own invention.

            There are a lot of different kinds of relationships you will have in a life, but ultimately, the most important relationship you have is the one you have with yourself.
           
Quirky, too much, crazy, dramatic… amazing, peace-seeking, loving, healing… SELF.

            And if you find someone, or many someones, or a few someones, to love that SELF, well, enjoy. But never lose sight of the ONE person you will be with all your life: YOU.

            I know I finally have learned to embrace that beautiful wonderful one… and what has it given me?

OPENING CHORDS TO FEELIN’ GOOD

More than I could have ever hoped for:


BIRDS FLYING HIGH, YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL
SUN IN THE SKY, YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL
BREEZE DRIFTING ON BY, YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL
IT’S A NEW DAWN, IT’S A NEW DAY, IT’S A NEW LIFE FOR ME, YEAH
IT’S A NEW DAWN, IT’S A NEW DAY, IT’S A NEW LIFE FOR ME, OOOOH

AND I’M FEELIN’ GOOD!

FISH IN THE SEA, YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL
RIVER RUNNIN FREE, YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL
BLOSSOM ON THE TREE, YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL
IT’S A NEW DAWN, IT’S A NEW DAY, IT’S A NEW LIFE FOR ME,
AND I’M FEELIN’ GOOD!

DRAGONFLY OUT IN THE SKY, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, DON’TCHA KNOW?
BUTTERFLIES ALL HAVING FUN, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN
SLEEPIN’ PEACE WHEN DAY IS DONE, THAT’S WHAT I MEAN
AND THIS OLD WORLD IS A NEW WORLD AND A BOLD WORLD FOR ME

STARS WHEN YOU SHINE, YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL
SCENT ON THE PINE, YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL
OH, FREEDOM IS MINE!
AND I KNOW HOW I FEEL
IT’S A NEW DAWN
IT’S A NEW DAY
IT’S A NEW LIFE FOR ME

AND I’M FEELIN GOOOOOOOOOOD!!!!



Thank you, so much, ladies and gentlemen, for being here!!!!!! This is a work in progress, and so is my show! haha. Just kidding. We all know life is a work in progress. I’d like to say thanks to _______ and (Venue) for having me, to _____ for running sound, to Lizzy for suggesting me here in the first place! I’d like to thank all my ex boyfriends for shaping me into the woman I am, and all my friends for all their boxes of condoms…..uh, tissues. Thanks to (introduce band) and thanks to my family for putting up with me.

OH, FREEDOM IS MINE!
AND I KNOW HOW I FEEL
IT’S A NEW DAWN
IT’S A NEW DAY
IT’S A NEW LIFE FOR ME

AND I’M FEELIN GOOOOOOOOOOD!!!!




Fin           

IF THERE IS AN ENCORE:

LA VIE EN ROSE
            (Charts)

BLACK BUTTERFLY
            (Charts)

FIN





Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Music Mondays... on Tuesday!

Hey everybody!

So, the Akademia Music Awards recently honored my song, "Come Alive," and me, with the award for best pop/ rock song of the month!

http://www.theakademia.com/november2015_bestsong_poprocksoul3.html?utm_content=bufferec4d9&utm_medium=social&utm_source=twitter.com&utm_campaign=buffer

'Soulful guitar riffs, gorgeous vocals and compelling lyrics make this song a pop rock knockout and make Erin Carere one to watch in the coming year.'

I am so grateful!






If you haven't heard

"Come Alive,"

you can hear it right here!




Thank you and more to come soon.

Have a lovely day!

Sunday, November 15, 2015

From hurt and anger and justifications, out of nihilism, and into love: my journey since the events of November 13th, 2015

Since Friday, I’ve been posting as many peaceful photos and articles exemplifying inclusion as I can throughout social media. Many of these were articles about France in particular, and about how Muslims around the world are grieving for the people victimized int he Paris attacks (as well as in Beirut.)

 I received a letter from someone who misread or misunderstood my intention and told me I was a racist for posting so many of these articles…. my intention is always love and solidarity and compassion and understanding. If ever someone thinks my intention is otherwise, I encourage that person to reach out to me so we can have an open minded and open hearted conversation about connection and deeper understanding. I am grateful for this misreading of my intentions, not because I can be understood by everyone, but because I believe in listening as much as I can, loving always, and rising up to an ideal of civility in discourse. Diversity is beautiful. Assumptions are dangerous. Conversation is encouraged. Love is all.



THE ABOVE is what I posted on Facebook, but I would like to add the following.

The events of Friday the 13th hit me almost as hard as the events of 9/11. I feared for the people of the world- honestly, for all people- for ALL people. Yes, all. Race, religion, color, creed, country of origin, country of destination, country of inhabitance, belief system, thinking, politics. All of us, all of you. For I truly love all of you.

And am I a nihilist? Sometimes. Do I get caught up in the anger at a world of violent idiots, in which group I include myself, for even our thoughts can lead to violence? I don't mean just the terrorist groups; I mean the systems that create such anger and hate in the first place. I don't mean just colonization, or even just patriarchy. I mean anger and frustration at the very existence of animals with sensitivity and violence and justification in the first place (humans.)

Well, actually, today? No.

Since Friday I have been stuck. Stuck in disappointment, sure. Anger, not as much. Sorrow, yes.

Stuck in my particular manifestations of my modern age, meaning, those issues and symptoms part and parcel to my "perceived" role in the universe.... let me be more clear.... a white, Scandinavian/ Scottish/ Welsh origin woman in her 30s who was born and raised in the middle of Minnesota who is auto-didactic, artistic, sensitive, driven and ambitious and now lives in Los Angeles, California but who has traveled the world in search of artistic and mystical meaning and truth.... so, I was stuck in my personal failures as an artist, my extra 15 or 20 pounds, my fears of who I really am and who we really are as people, my exhaustion, my boredom.... in short, the symptoms of "my" dis-ease in what I think is a moment of nihilism in the modern (2015) age as a stage in our own cultural evolution as a species.

Blech.

Today?

No more.

Today I am humbled by a stranger who, angry at his perception of my racism (although I maintain I was not being racist, but instead, trying to encourage people to STOP being racist... is acknowledging racism a racist act? A question for all us navel-gazers, to be sure!), wrote me a letter asking me to stop. I am humbled not because he misunderstood me or understood me but because he took the time to write.

It is easy to get angry.

It is easy to assume.

Today,

I seek to understand.

I seek to offer peace, love, and respect if not actual friendship. *Especially* with those folks with whom I do not agree. To those people, I especially reach out. Laugh away, or come join me for a cup of tea. I reach out to you anyway.

I seek to return to my work, the acts of creation, songs and writing and films of love and joy and understanding.

For myself, today, I recommit to love.

I had never actually left love,

I just got caught up in one particular way of showing it, and was left hurt by humanity.

Peace for us all.

Peace.

Friday, November 13, 2015

FICTION FRIDAYS: Friday The 13th: THE ONE, Second Incarnation, SCENES 5, 6 and 7

*Author's Note:

I am so heartbroken to hear of the tragedy in Paris, France. My heart goes out to all the victims and their families, and I stand in solidarity with a city dedicated to the evolution of humanity:

Liberté, égalité, fraternité.


I don't know quite how to mourn. I thought, for Fiction Fridays, perhaps I would share a story about one of my many trips to France, or about my own experience with terrorism... I do not wish to give terrorists any more air or eyeball or brain time than they already get. I refuse to live in fear and know that I can stand for something greater than the total sum of all our fears: love.

That said, Paris is a special town to me, to us, to the world. Perhaps soon I will share some of my Paris stories- but for now, I will continue with my own path as an artist, sharing scenes from the

SECOND INCARNATION
of
THE ONE
as performed in minneapolis, mn.

SCENE 5: THE ONE WHO SET UP A THREESOME WITHOUT TELLING ME
SCENE 6: THE ONE RIGHT AFTER THE OTHER
SCENE 7: THE ONE WHO NEVER FAILED ME


Featuring the following songs:
"Simultaneous" from South Park (as sung by Chef/ Isaac Hayes, but performed with a German accent
"Pets" by Noel Coward
"Making Love Alone" by Cheryl Hardwick and Marilyn Suzanne Miller, made famous by Bernadette Peters


 
SCENE FIVE

(All Friedrich speech is done with a HUN ACCENT.)

Go get MIC STAND. Place CS. MIC in STAND. Feel free to drag stand around.

The one who set up a threesome. Without telling me.

            Friedrich the German. From Düsseldorf. (said with funny accent.)

            Friedrich was operating a multi-national corporation who had offices based in Saint Paul, Minnesota. He would come hear me sing and as he wooed me, I found myself falling in love with this international businessman and started traveling with him whenever I wasn’t singing.

One night, after my set, a girl approached me.

“Hi, Erin! It’s me, Violet. It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“Hi!” Aside: I had fans! “Nice to meet you, too!”

Rub up against mic stand.

“So,” she said, pulling me in and squeezing my body up against hers,  “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought my boyfriend, too. He’s really excited to meet you.”

“whoa,” I said. I mean, I want my fans to love me, but from afar. Or at least not so near  “Uh, okay. Cool. My boyfriend is… right… here. Friedrich!!”

She looks him over appraisingly. “Oh. Does he like to watch?”

Friedrich the German flashed his Cheshire Cat Grin.

“Ja, hullo. I am Friedrich. The German.”

“I hear you like to watch.” (V)

“Ja…. watch?...”

“Good…. because my boyfriend is right over there.” She pointed at a man crossing his arms over his chest, not liking the sudden appearance of my boyfriend. Not one bit.

Friedrich turned to me.

“Were you going to have a threesome? Without me?” (F)

Violet squeezed my hand. “Don’t be scared, honey.” She tried to lead me toward her boyfriend.

Drag stand slightly left…. then…. Physical comedy- being pulled one way, then another, in a tug of war.

            “FRIEDRICH! Violet! Hey! Stop!.... Look. I don’t know what’s going on, but….Iris, or Pansy…. whatever your name is….. there must be some misunderstanding. I don’t want to have a threesome. I have a boyfriend.”

            “But we’ve been emailing about this for WEEKS.” (V)

            “I can’t believe you were going to cheat on me in a threesome!” (F)

            “Weeks!” (E)           

Violet slunk away.

We left the club and went home. Friedrich yelled at me for trying to cheat on him while I opened his computer.

“Something else is going on. Show me.”

“Okay, meine schatz.” Laughing.

Pull stand back toward piano. Sit on stool, bending whole stand. Erin reads from the computer in shock:

“Adult Friend Finder Dot Com. Hi. I’m Erin. I’m a local singer and I love getting hot and wet with lots of girls. Black, white, big, tall, short, fat. I don’t care. Show me your pussy and I’ll show you mine.”

Take a moment, then act out.

That photo of me… does not do me justice!!! That is not my good side! My left side is my good side. And I’m obviously at the beach and not aware you’re taking the photo and. Secondly. Why are you making this profile for me without even asking me?
You are NOT getting a threesome out of me! You don’t deserve it!

            Well, here’s what Friedrich had to say about that:

SING IN GERMAN ACCENT!!!!
Opening chords of Simultaneous

BABY, YOU KNOW YOU’RE THE ONE FOR ME
AND ALL THAT I WANT TO BE IS

YOU AND ME… AND HER SIMULTANEOUS
YOU AND ME, AND YOU AND YOU
SIMULTANEOUS LOVIN’ BABY, TWO OR THREE
SIMULTANEOUS OOH! COME ON!

HAVE AN OPEN MIND, PULL MY TRIGGER DOWN:
GIMME THE LAST COLD TURKEY BLAST, MAKE IT FAST
TAKE MY ASS TO TOWN

HAVE AN OPEN MIND, SEND MY CARES AWAY
RING MY BELL, YOU FAT PIGGY, WELL, WHAT THE HELL,
TODAY’S YOUR LUCKY DAY!

YOU AND ME! AND HER. SIMULTANEOUS
YOU, AND ME! AND WINONA RYDER!
SIMULTANEOUS LOVIN, BABY, TWO OR THREE…
SIMULTANEOUS, OOOH! COME ON.

HAVE AN OPEN MIND, IT’S A GERMAN THING TO DO,
DON’T BE A PRUDE, JUST GET NUDE
OH YOU’RE BEIN’ RUDE. I WOULD DO IT FOR YOU!
OH BABY, PLEASE! HAVE AN OPEN MIND.
YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE I LOVE!
THESE GIRLS, YOU SEE, BABY, THEY DON’T MEAN ANYTHING!
LET’S ALL GET IN THE TUB.

hump mic stand

YOU! AND ME! AND HER TOO! SIMULTANEOUS.
YOU AND ME, AND YOUR MOMMA AND YOUR SISTER.
SIMULTANEOUS LOVING, BABY, TWO OR THREE,
SIMULTANEOUS OW! COME ON.

Instrumental break

EVERYBODY IN THE POOL! (Hun accent) TAKE IT, BAND!!!!!!!

Band jams
Instrumental
while Erin speaks to the audience. Take mic from stand, hold stand in left hand.

            I mean… what was the big deal? After all, I went to a private liberal arts college… I was a French Literature major at one point. I had studied Greek.

Think…

            So, I said to Friedrich, “Okay. With another guy.”

Cheshire cat grin, realization, then shaking his head NO!
           
            “Nein!”

HAVE AN OPEN MIND. DON’T BE SO MEAN TO ME
CALL YOUR SISTER AND YOUR MOTHER AND YOUR AUNT
IT’S EVERY MAN’S FANTASY
HAVE AN OPEN…. WHOA BABY! PUT THAT KNIFE AWAY!
DON’T BE MAD! I’LL TAKE YOU BACK! JUST RELAX!
WE CAN MAKE LOVE YOUR WAY.
I’M TALKIN ABOUT

YOU… AND ME…. AND SOME FLOWERS AND SOME WINE,
INSTANTANEOUS!
YOU, AND ME, AND WHITNEY HOUSTON.
ON THE RADIO, BABY! ON THE RADIO!
SOME CANDLES AND SOME GOOD FEELINGS.
JUST THE TWO OF US!
OH, DAS WEINERSCHNITZEL!!!

NEIN! I’M TALKING ABOUT
YOU AND ME, AND HER AND HER AND HER, SIMULTANEOUS!
YOU, AND ME! ALL THE WOMEN IN THE HOUSE!
SIMULTANEOUS LOVING!
THREE. AND SEVEN! MAKE IT A BAKER’S DOZEN!
SEE THE LADIES IN THE HOUSE!
CLAP YOUR HANDS!
NOW THAT’D BE A PARTY, LADIES!!!!

Would you care for some bratwurst?!?


Scene Six

Put stand back at homebase and stand CS with just mic

I began to see that my days with Friedrich were coming to a head- pardon the expression- when I found him in bed with Sequoia, the hostess from the restaurant around the corner.

E: Friedrich, what are you doing in bed with that woman?

F: What woman?

E: That woman.

BAND MEMBER AS GHETTO GIRL S: Yo, I think she’s talkin’ ‘bout me?

F: Erin! Clearly you are crazy. There is no woman here! I have been waiting for you in a romantic mood all this time. And if you cannot see what I have to offer, then I say, you are crazy.

E: Friedrich, I just walked in here and found you fucking Sequoia. (to S) Sequoia, help me out here.

BAND MEMBER Shrug as Sequoia, with a no he didn’t.

F: I have no idea what you are talking about.

E: I’m talking about the fact that you’re having sex with Sequoia.

BAND MEMBER AS GHETTO GIRL: S: And I’m talking about the fact that you said you broke up with that bitch. I’m gonna cut you.

F: Erin! I’m not having sex with anybody. Do you see anybody here?

Blank stare. Shrug and nod.

Gotta admit, it’s an ingenious tactic. Complete denial.

So I left Friedrich, and my reaction may surprise you. Let’s just say I took up a hobby.

SIT Begin PETS

SOME FOLKS COLLECT PAINTINGS
SOME FOLKS COLLECT STAMPS
SOME ARE AMASSERS OF ANTIMACASSARS
AND OTHERS VICTORIAN LAMPS
SOME FOLKS COLLECT HORSES
OTHERS WE KNOW RENO DIVORCES….
BUT I, LITTLE ME…. WELL, I JUST CAN’T WAIT TIL YOU SEE MY…

PETS…
I COLLECT PETS….
I COLLECT EVERYTHING FROM MIC TO MARMOSETS!
I’VE A WHIRLING MOUSE NAMED JUMBO
AND A COCKATOO FROM COLUMBO
WHO TELLS DIRTY JOKES AND SMOKES “CIGARETTES”

I’VE A DINNER JACKETED PENGUIN
WHO GIVES ME LESSONS IN… POISE
AND A VERY SEXY OLD PEACOCK
WHO MAKES SUCH AN INTERESTING NOISE
BUT THE PRIDE OF MY COLLECTIONIS MY BEVY OF HARVARD BOYS
I’M LIKE A CHILD! I’M SIMPLY WILD ABOUT MY PETS.

PETS…. I COLLECT PETS!
I COLLECT EVERYTHING FROM MICE TO MARMOSETS!
I’VE AN ACROBATIC MONKEY
AND A HIGHLY ENDOWED YOUNG DONKEY
WHO’S PLAYED SEVERAL SHOWS
AND KNOWS CLIFF ODETTS (DAVID MAMET!)

Spoken instead of second half of verse….

You know I once adopted an old lizard. He wasn’t much to look at, but I LOVED his forked tongue!

Then there was the world famous seduction coach. I had to stop seeing him though, because of his limp… handshake.

I’M LIKE A CHILD, I’M SIMPLY WILD ABOUT MY PETS!
PETS…. I COLLECT PETS
I COLLECT EVERYTHING FROM MICE TO MARMOSETS!

Spoken over first half of verse:

Then there was the guy I met online who lied about his age…. by 47 years! When he said he wanted to give me a ride, I didn’t realize he meant…. in his wheelchair!

I’VE A PERSIAN KITTEN FROM NEWPORT
WHO ONLY CARE FOR WHIPPED CREAM
AND A PAIR OF RIOTOUS RABBITS
THE WAY THEY BEHAVE IS A SCREAM
AND AS SOON AS I’VE MORE CAGES
I’LL TAKE OVER THE USC TEAM
I’M LIKE A CHILD!
I’M SIMPLY WILD-
ABOUT MY
PETS…


SCENE SEVEN

Band plays an extended PETS!!!
Drink water!
Move MIC STAND CS
BAND PLAY PETS TO UNDERSCORE THE FOLLOWING:

            I had become disillusioned with love.

            Not sex, mind you. Just love.

            Most men seemed to lie about their age, their height, their weight, their marital status, their income, their appearance, their gender, their intentions, their criminal records, their status as former drug cartel leaders, their table manners, and their residences with their mothers.

            So.

            I turned to an old friend.

Sung at stand
Feel free to bend stand

A LOG THROWN ON THE FIRE
TWO PROFILES MET AS ONE
THE IGNITING OF DESIRE IN THE AIR
BUT WHEN THERE’S JUST ONE PROFILE
AND YET DESIRE GROWS
DESPITE THE FACT THERE’S NO ONE ELSE TO CARE

MUST ROMANCE BE ABANDONED
AS IT’S FANNING ITS OWN FLAME
WAITING TO BURST FULL BLOWN

NO!

THERE’S A SPECIAL KIND OF BLISS
NOT ENGENDERED WITH A KISS
SEREPTITIOUSLY INDULGED IN,
LESS WELL KNOWN.
FOR WHEN ONCE CANNOT MAKE LOVE
WITH ANOTHER
ONE CAN STILL MAKE LOVE ALONE!

THERE’S A CERTAIN SPECIAL MAGIC
TO THE TOUCH OF YOUR OWN HAND
AND A SPECIAL THRILL KNOWING THAT YOU WILL
FOR SURE, SOON BE FEELING GRAND
AND THE TENDER SWELL OF RAPTURE
YOU DON’T HAVE TO TRY AND POSTPONE
THAT’S WHAT ITS LIKE
WHEN YOU’RE MAKING LOVE ALONE!

OH, THE SWEET, SWEET SOUND OF YOUR OWN BREATHING
AS THE SKY TURNS PAE PINK TO HOT
AND THE SPECIAL THRILL KNOWING THAT YOU WILL
NOT CATCH GOD ONLY KNOWS WHAT
IT’S THE KIND OF LOVE
THAT FITS HAND IN GLOVE
AND BURSTS LIKE A BUD FULL BLOWN
THAT’S WHAT IT’S LIKE
WHEN YOU’RE MAKING LOVE ALONE

WHO CAN DESCRIBE THE SPECIAL SWEETNESS
OF KNOWING THE SPEED THAT YOU’RE GOING IS RIGHT
AND IS THERE ANYTHING AS THRILLING
AS TRYING TO KEEP THE PAGE OPEN TO
PAGE 24 ALL NIGHT

HOW REASSURING TO KNOW WHEN IT’S FINALLY TIME TO GO
THAT YOU’LL SOON BE THERE WHEN YOU LEAVE
AND AS DAWN IS BREAKING YOU HEAR YOURSELF MAKING A DATE
FOR NEW YEAR’S EVE

IT’S THE KIND OF LOVE
THAT FITS HAND IN GLOVE
ESPECIALLY WHEN THE GLOVE IS YOUR OWN

FOR THE DATE WHEN YOU CAN’T SEE THEIR FACES
THE ONE WHO KNOWS ALL THE BEST PLACES
WHO’LL NEVER ASK YOUR SIGN ON THE PHONE
NO, NO NO SIGNS
DUE TO THE SIMPLE MAGIC OF MAKING LOVE
NOT TAKING, FAKING, MISTAKING LOVE
THAT SIMPLE MAGIC
OF MAKING LOVE ALONE
SAVE ON COLOGNE!
THAT’S WHAT IT’S LIKE
WHEN YOU’RE MAKING LOVE
ALO-
OOOOOOO-
ALOOOOOOONE!