Warhead On Legs

If I were in Madison, I would go down to the Capitol building and play this on my guitar.

"The life I've always wanted
I guess I'll never have
I'll be working for somebody else
Until I'm in my grave
I'll be dreaming of a life of ease
And mountains
Oh mountains o' things

To have a big expensive car
Drag my furs on the ground
And have a maid that I can tell
To bring me anything
Everyone will look at me with envy and with greed
I'll revel in their attention
And mountains
Oh mountains o' things

Sweet lazy life
Champagne and caviar
I hope you'll come and find me
Cause you know who we are
Those who deserve the best in life
And know what money's worth
And those whose sole misfortune
Was having mountains o' nothing at birth

Oh they tell me
There's still time to save my soul
They tell me
Renounce all
Renounce all those material things you gained by
Exploiting other human beings

Consume more than you need
This is the dream
Make you pauper
Or make you queen
I won't die lonely
I'll have it all prearranged
A grave that's deep and wide enough
For me and all my mountains o' things

Oh they tell me
There's still time to save my soul
They tell me
Renounce all
Renounce all those material things you gained by
Exploiting other human beings

Mostly I feel lonely
Good good people are
Good people are only
My stepping stones
It's gonna take all my mountains o' things
To surround me
Keep all my enemies away
Keep my sadness and loneliness at bay

The life I've always wanted
I guess I'll never have
I'll be working for somebody else
Until I'm in my grave
I'll be dreaming of a life of ease
And mountains
Oh mountains o' things

I'll be dreaming, dreaming...
Dreaming... "

Managed to get Russian out today, as well as clearly needing to institute a vocab quiz a day policy. I have edits back on my short story, and I need to do that and a chapter a day on Long Road until THAT'S in submittable form, which will be, heh. Interesting. It's not the kind of story that you see much of these days. For one thing, the protagonist is neither young nor pretty. Nor redeemed during the course of the book. Hm, maybe I should list that as a selling point. Not the unredeemed part, the protagonist being not like your customary protagonist. He's not a woobie. Most of the time. He's not young and pretty. He's just a bastard.

I am ridiculously pleased by Hallelujah having an easy set of chords to play. And I can forsee myself wandering around the house now playing it at random points. Just because. I've got this app on my iPod that lets me pull up the chords (if they're in the app's database) of any song that's currently playing on my iPod and give me another four months, I will be banging out badly played Bon Jovi, Bob Seger, Leonard Cohen like a boss. I'd forgotten, I think, how amazingly fun guitar can be. Or I didn't have the patience for it when I was younger. Or, more likely, I felt that I shouldn't bother trying since I wasn't as good as the Senator's son augh get out of the news Senator I had a crush on at the time. So I couldn't impress him. In retrospect I should have just gone up and fucking talked to him. I think he looked kindly on me, but ... hell if I know anymore. That was about thirteen years ago. No, self, we will NOT google the poor boy, you're freaking out enough about his Dad being in the news anyway.

Right. I have enough to do today. Blog stuff, which is vastly overdue. Tidying desk. Both planning and editing on various works, three to plan and two to edit. Some reading for one of the works that needs editing, German, vocab quizzes. That is way, way more than enough to keep me occupied without doing self-indulgent web-surfing. So! Let's get to it, shall we.