You can ask my sickly wife, whom I am parted from regularly.
I go in late.
I go in early.
And I rehearse aloud.
I'm very frustrated today; only a single of my Shipmates and myself had come in over the weekend for a significant span of time with the purpose of assembling the brief. My Grouplead, and another, put in a sum of forty-five minutes, and the resultant heat was unleashed upon the entirety of the group.
So frustrated with us was a man that I admire - who is arguably the only person to connect with me on a one-on-one basis in a Military setting - that he stood up and left for the duration of our brief.
I was crushed.
I feel like my reputation was compromised by someone else's shortcomings.
I know that to not be entirely true, but there is still an ugly feeling within me that hurts.
When being questioned as to the integrity of our group, I stated the time I put in.
I said, "I was told to come in 1800. I do not like the time of 1800, because I typically speak to my wife at this hour, but I came in at 1700 until 1945 for the purposes of assembling the brief."
He asked who assembled the brief. I said the brief had been locked and was inaccessible. As such, I had come in early with the person who had locked it, and assembled it myself before-hours.
My Grouplead attested that he had said, "1600," and not "1800."
That's untrue. We've come in 1800 every day of the week.
It's irrational for it to simply change over the weekend.
As we departed, I inquired, "When will we be coming in?"
My Grouplead scoffed and mocked me: "We'll pick a time you like."
I was so angry. So hurt. I put in more time than you.
You loosed irate instructors upon the group.
You take me away from my wife when she is ill.
Don't you dare paint me as some sort of favored child.
...In conclusion, I've brought you Gymnopedie No. 3, an Erik Satie's masterpiece for piano transcribed for Guitar, where its somber sounds (compared to the other, happier Gymnopedies, No. 1, and No.2) are highlighted.
Later today, at some point, I'd like to talk about Erik Satie's three Gymnopedie,
Vivaldi's The Seasons (and Alphonse Mucha's respective artwork) and other such pleasantries.
I don't know if I will get to, but it would be delightful.
I think I'd also like to showcase a bit of Hauschka.
When I was in grade school, we had these enormous textbooks that we could never hope to cover in the span of a year in their entirety. So the curriculum was always 'We picked a couple, here they are.'
Towards the end of every year, though, as the curriculum winded down, we were given free time and allowed to focus on the portions that we wanted.
My favorite time for this to occur was in English Class. I could read as many short stories as I wanted, or just look at the pictures associated with them - always from obscure artists, and credited as such. I remember the picture for a portion of 'Most Dangerous Game' consisting of a screaming dog titled 'Yeshka' or something similar...
But more than 'Yeshka,' I remember "Sing Me a Song," by Bodecker.
Hidden far in the back of the book where we never got to read was a poetry and nonsense section,
and I wound up really enjoying this particular little diddy. It's never left my mind and I actually sang the 'Plum Jam' part to myself while walking home for lunch today:
"Sing me a song
of teapots and trumpets:
Trumpots and teapets
and tippets and taps,
tripper and trappers
and jelly bean wrappers
and pigs in pajamas
with zippers and snaps.
Sing me a song
of sneakers and snoopers:
Snookers and sneapers
and snappers and snacks,
snorkels and snarkles,
a seagull that gargles,
and gargoyles and gryphons
and other knickknacks.
Sing me a song
of parsnips and pickles:
Picsnips and parkles
and pumpkins and pears,
plumbers and mummers
and kettle drum drummers
and plum jam (yum-yum jam!)
all over their chairs.
Sing me a song -
but never you mind it!
I’ve had enough
of this nonsense. Don’t cry.
Criers and fliers
and onion ring fryers -
It’s more than I want to put up with!
Good-by!"
I spent the time waiting to assume my 1:00 AM watch last night completing Moga's sleeper hit, 'I'm Scared of Girls.'
It's one of those beautiful things that hit surprisingly close to home.
It's not frequent that I talk about Emily, but it really reminded me so much of her.
I wish I were more equipped to help her. I should write her or something.
Anyways, if you'd like to try it, you can download it for free right Here
'I'm Scared of Girls' is a title about Lamb. Lamb is a recently deceased transgender woman.
Urged to sever spiritual ties so that she can be reborn, Lamb wades through her memories, occasionally woefully out of order, given you ephemeral glimpses of who Lamb was and the events leading up to her death.
Each excerpt you're treated to is sub-bulleted underneath the constant rain, which Lamb says is a product of a 'Broken Climate' that set in sometime after a fight with her parents, and set to beautiful piano.
I'm tagging this
As a massive
SPOILER
Because below, for those of you not
Interested in Playing
Can read some of Lamb's many memories:
"It started when I was kicked out - or ran away. The difference was slim as soon as I disappeared.
I was told to never come back. It was also the day the Climate broke. This town became a rain zone - with constant cloud cover and rain.
I was standing in it outside without an umbrella. All my clothes, papers, and everything got soaked. Officially.
It was supposed to be a normal day - but I did something stupid. I've crossdressed for ages - I have the body and face for it. Something about a hormone imbalance, but either way, after days of trying out clothes, I was found out.
Everyone in my house freaked. I was already a trouble, but this just gave them another excuse to rip me a new one.
After I was slapped around by my parents - I went for a kitchen knife. They instantly called the Police and I bolted.
I ran upstairs, packed what I could - which happened to be the girl's clothing already in my bag, my cellphone, and a knife - And now here I am.
Soaked.
You could probably see my boy parts if you looked hard enough.
I've got to go somewhere - I guess I'll just try and find shelter."
I met him at the Library. I tripped into this older guy - he looked kind of mean - but he apologized and insisted on buying me a drink. So I let him. He went by Pitt. Then we sat down outside and talked for awhile. At first it was awkward and quiet. Then- "Do you believe in Ghosts?" "U-Um-..." "Nevermind." "Yes. Yes, I do." "Really? Why?" I was silent, then I told him - I took another jump. Normally, I'd have ran after tripping into someone. "I see them. A lot." There has always been something wrong with me. if it wasn't one thing, it was another. But I can see things people don't. Sometimes, I see ghosts. Sometimes, I travel just by touching something-
One time, I even watched myself taking a test in class - but after that, I was so freaked out I haven't been back in class since. I wasn't doing too well before that, anyways. "Wow." "It's weird." "It is weird. But I am weirder." He reached into his pocket- "This is a Swiss Army Knife. I've had it for a long time. Want to hold it?" "Um- No." "What? I'm not going to stab you, or something- Here-" He grabbed my hands and placed it there. And then it happened.
After I was kicked out, and before I started working at the Office I did two strange things. The first was when I had got a jog at a midnight diner- I picked up everything pretty, got along with all the people there as well as I could. But the customers were strange - out of the corner of my eyes, they were just dark masses constantly deforming and reforming. I thought it was my eyes, but it happened nearly every night there. One of the customers that came after midnight talked to me when I was sitting outside on break. He asked me if I'd come back to his apartment for some cash, and shoved a card in my hand. I flat out refused - but he just smiled and walked off. For some reason, I kept the card. About a month afterwards, I was fired.
After I lost my job at the Midnight Diner, I didn't have any leads for anything. My friends had all went their ways and my cellphone was constantly out of service somehow. Again in the rain, the back of my mind fell out. I placed a fake smile on. Brushed my white dress off - and called the number on the card I got earlier from a guy. Over the line, I could hear his breathing lustfully drool over the prospect- "Hey there, remember me? From the diner? I was wondering-..." "I'll send a cab to get you - where are you?" The cab came crawling up - and I swore I heard funeral bells before I got in. That night I was passed around like a drinking bottle, And the last thing I remember is some cash being thrown on me Soaking up fluids that had been excreted.
I had ran from the apartment the moment I woke back up. I didn't even bother to wash-off. My dress was disordered and stained. I felt awful. My legs felt broke, but were still working properly. On my right arm there was a bruise in the shape of a hand. A tattoo burned onto me by pure intent and my desperate attempt-- The money wasn't even worth it... I had become a regular at the office. Apparently, the workers and construction managers had become used to Or even liked me in office-girl clothing. The stares I got as my butt passed nearly made me squeamish. But after awhile, I got over that. One guy, though, his name was - I can't think of it actually. One day he found me and awkwardly asked me to meet him upstairs in the lounge on the Third Floor.
I was kind of scared but not as paranoid at that point - so I did. He started twitching when I got there; he didn't even say anything. Then he started vibrating uncontrollably - and finally, the back of his head blew up, sending blood all over the back wall.
For a second, I did nothing. Then I passed out from shock. Later, they said that he died from some obscure medical disorder that had developed to a lethal degree. Poor guy. I Don't even know his name.
Ladies and Gentlemen, might I present to you Moga's 2013 project, "Safety: Life is a Maze".
It's a bizarre game that I can't quite explain to you for several reasons. It seems to be a plot-driven game about a young girl named Mina who mysteriously sprouts horns and finds herself and several friends whisked away to a world that she doesn't understand after a confrontation with her boyfriend, Andy.
It features the occasional RPG element and fight scene with a very beautiful, bizarre style rife with static, monotone tapes featuring the voice of Investigators, and cute, pixely portraits.
Immediately, I was taken by its style and mysterious air.
Sadly, I cannot play it - my Laptop has always had trouble with the display of Static Overlays.
For this reason, low demand games like Lone Survivor and .flow will occasionally become agonizingly slow for me. But even though I cannot play it, that doesn't mean you all cannot!
I'd like to do my part to showcase Moga's work by advertising it.
Please, click Here to download it, and let us all here at Cobuniji know what you thought!
Now - I can't stick around. I have an Area of Responsibility Threat Brief due on Tuesday!
I'll catch you around after I write a detailed summary of the Sanctions currently placed on Iran via the UN, US, and EU.
