I must be one of your oldest fans…or maybe I am just stuck in the past as I seem to repeatedly go WAY back for the songs I share.
My first thought was Think by Aretha Franklin. It throws me into an aging-related existential crisis to think that maybe others don’t know this song…or don’t know who Aretha is.
I mean even my spellcheck doesn’t recognize the name “aretha”! Sheesh!
I’ll be 70 years old in 21 days, but I remember exactly where I was when I first heard this classic…I was a VISTA Volunteer in a tiny Juke Joint outside Atlanta, where I had the extreme pleasure of witnessing the Queen of Soul, a patron herself of said tavern, spontaneously perform Do Right Woman…acapella!!
Hey, it might even be a song you could add to your list of mood and thought-changing music!
Love to you Helen!
Think by Aretha Franklin
Lyrics
You better think (think)
Think about what you’re trying to do to me
Think (think, think)
Let your mind go, let yourself be free
Let’s go back, let’s go back
Let’s go way on back when
I didn’t even know you
You couldn’t have been too much more than ten (just a child)
I ain’t no psychiatrist, I ain’t no doctor with degrees
It don’t take too much high IQ’s
To see what you’re doing to me
You better think (think)
Think about what you’re trying to do to me
Yeah, think (think, think)
Let your mind go, let yourself be free
There ain’t nothing you could ask
I could answer you but I won’t (I won’t)
I was gonna change, but I’m not
To keep doing things I don’t
You better think (think)
Think about what you’re trying to do to me
Think (think)
Let your mind go, let yourself be free
People walking around everyday
Playing games, taking score
Trying to make other people lose their minds
Ah, be careful you don’t lose yours, oh
Think (think)
Think about what you’re trying to do to me, ooh
Think (think)
Let your mind go, let yourself be free
You need me (need me)
And I need you (don’t you know)
Without each other there ain’t nothing people can do, oh
Think about it, baby (What are you trying to do me)
Yeah, oh baby, think about it now, yeah
(Think about, ah me, think about, ah me)
(Think about, ah me, think about, ah me)
Oh, come on, baby
WMG (on behalf of BNL P&D (Questar/Mission)); PEDL, ASCAP, UBEM, CMRRA, Warner Chappell, and 15 Music Rights Societies
LYRICS
It’s been one week since you looked at me
Cocked your head to the side
and said I’m angry
Five days since you laughed at me saying
Get that together come back and see me
Three days since the living room,
I realized it’s all my fault, but couldn’t tell you
Yesterday you’d forgiven me
But it’ll still be two days till I say I’m sorry
Hold it now and watch the hoodwink
As I make you stop, think
You’ll think you’re looking at Aquaman
I summon fish to the dish,
Although I like the Chalet Swiss
I like the sushi
Cause it’s never touched a frying pan
Hot like wasabe when I bust rhymes
Big like Leann Rimes
Because I’m all about value
Bert Kaempfert’s got the mad hits
You try to match wits
You try to hold me but I bust through
Gonna make a break and take a fake
I’d like a stinkin, achin shake
I like vanilla, It’s the finest of the flavors
Gotta see the show,
Cause then you’ll know
The Vertigo is gonna grow
Cause it’s so dangerous,
You’ll have to sign a waiver
How can I help it if I think you’re funny when you’re mad
Trying hard not to smile though I feel bad
I’m the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral
Can’t understand what I mean?
Well, you soon will
I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve
I have a history of taking off my shirt
It’s been one week since you looked at me
Threw your arms in the air and said you’re crazy
Five days since you tackled me
I’ve still got the rug burns on both my knees
It’s been three days since the afternoon
You realized it’s not my fault not a moment too soon
Yesterday you’d forgiven me
And now I sit back and wait till you say you’re sorry
Chickity China the Chinese chicken
You have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin’
Watchin X-Files with no lights on,
We’re dans la maison
I hope the Smoking Man’s in this one
Like Harrison Ford I’m getting Frantic
Like Sting I’m Tantric
Like Snickers, guaranteed to satisfy
Like Kurosawa I make mad films
Okay I don’t make films
But if I did they’d have a samurai
Gonna get a set of better clubs
Gonna find the kind with tiny nubs
Just so my irons aren’t always flying off the back swing
Gotta get in tune with Sailor Moon
Cause that cartoon has got the boom anime babes
That make me think the wrong thing
How can I help it if I think you’re funny when you’re mad
Trying hard not to smile though I feel bad
I’m the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral
Can’t understand what I mean?
You soon will
I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve
I have a history of losing my shirt
It’s been one week since you looked at me
Dropped your arms to your sides and said I’m sorry
Five days since I laughed at you and said
You just did just what I thought you were gonna do
Three days since the living room
We realized we’re both to blame, but what could we do?
Yesterday you just smiled at me
Cause it’ll still be two days till we say we’re sorry
It’ll still be two days till we say we’re sorry
It’ll still be two days till we say we’re sorry
My life is full of Art, but it is also full of artists who define “art” very differently from me.
My best friend is an expert, having studied and collected art for most of his life. He is also a very talented artist in his own right. We’ve had an ongoing debate for more than 40 years about what actually qualifies as art and who gets to define it. I know we are not alone in this disagreement.
“The Merriam-Webster online dictionary defines art as “something that is created with imagination and skill and that is beautiful or that expresses important ideas or feelings.” My own definition of art is the sharing of one’s inner thoughts, feelings, emotions, visions, and struggles through multiple mediums.”
Wondering what all this has to do with “twisted”?
I think his choice of art is twisted…and I’m sure he thinks mine is invalidly defined as art in the first place.
The photo at the top of this post is a gift my best friend gave me many years ago. I’m sure it was expensive and to many, would be defined as art.
I just think it’s twisted.
He actually spent money on that piece for me, where as I bought myself these pieces.
Here are some more examples of “art” in his home and “art” in mine.
His is on the left, mine on the right
His choice on top
My choice is “twisted” artwork from my grandson, at 9 and then 11 years old.
Please don’t get me wrong. I am not saying my best friend is twisted. As a matter of fact, here is my newest absolute favorite piece of art, ironically, a gift from him. Not my chosen “style” by any means but he knew how moved I would be by this piece!
I, on the other hand, by the definition of many, am quite happily Twisted.
Here’s proof:
I mean, who runs for their camera before rescuing the cat stuck in the speaker cabinet???
And who focuses on the body of the dragonfly, rather than on the beautiful flowers?And who becomes obsessed with their new phone camera’s macro feature when accidentally shooting her sweat-pant leg?And who screeches her car to a halt to snap a photo of the shadow of windshield water on her dashboard?Who thinks the frosting stain on the cake box is the equivalent of a Jesus face on burnt toast?And who in the world photographs fungus??
I do, that’s who. So I will now officially, and gladly accept the adjective of TWISTED!
I am in great company, as you know if you have ever read The Shameful Sheep or Jennifer Day at The Iconophile, two of my favorite bloggers.
I really felt it while I was going through all kinds of contortions trying to photograph my friend’s art, including, taking his series called “the 7 deadly sins” into a dark closet to eliminate some of the reflection. Didn’t work, and besides, too creepy! This is as good as I could get.
This is a seriously twisted series and the photos are lousy!
It’s not just about art though.
Just the other day, a newish friend, while I was introducing him to my Bugs, asked me if I realized just how twisted it was for me to be this enthusiastic about them.
He has no idea. Even I know it is completely torqued to set up the photo shoots I have with my bugs.
Witness these, as examples…
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I won’t even get started on the debate we have about Photography as ART!!
Anyway, I know this is a long post, with a lot of photos, but the topic and the recent Daily Post announcement inspired me to do less censoring than I usually apply to my weekly photo challenge entry.
I’ll end on this note.
Initially, I was of like mind with many other contributors this week. I immediately thought of these things:
But then I allowed the word to take me on this unexpected journey.
For that, I wish to express deep gratitude to The Daily Press for your regular inspiration for so many posts!! I will really miss you.
Sincerely,
ChosenPerspectives
PS I have received many Twisted gifts over the years from other twisted folks. Here are a couple involving antlers…yikes.
(Disclaimer…I think because I have not posted for a while, I got carried away this morning. I mean, one song is all that was asked for. I seem to have turned this into a dissertation or something…)
OK, this was a serious challenge. First of all, I could not find a single legitimate artist with my name. I mean, there is Kathie Lee Gifford, but come on. I know how judgmental this is but I really cannot count her as an “artist”.
OK, so I tried my maiden name next and remembered not a specific song by an artist with that name, but rather a whole album by a longtime friend of mine, an amazing artist herself, singing my namesake’s songs.
(Shameless plug here….Go buy something by Ginny Reilly!!)
Then I tried my original, birth, last name, which later, sort of became my middle name (long story there) and found an artist I don’t usually like but she does have this one Power Song I like to play in my Women’s Groups.
Lyrics
You know the bed feels warmer
Sleeping here alone
You know I dream in color
And do the things I want
You think you got the best of me
Think you had the last laugh
Bet you think that everything good is gone
Think you left me broken down
Think that I’d come running back
Baby you don’t know me, ’cause you’re dead wrong
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone
What doesn’t kill you makes a fighter
Footsteps even lighter
Doesn’t mean I’m over ’cause you’re gone
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, stronger
Just me, myself and I
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone
You heard that I was starting over with someone new
But told you I was moving on over you
You didn’t think that I’d come back
I’d come back swinging
You try to break me but you see what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone
What doesn’t kill you makes a fighter
Footsteps even lighter
Doesn’t mean I’m over ’cause you’re gone
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, stronger
Just me, myself and I
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone
Thanks to you I got a new thing started
Thanks to you I’m not the broken-hearted
Thanks to you I’m finally thinking ’bout me
You know in the end the day to left was just my beginning
In the end
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone
What doesn’t kill you makes a fighter
Footsteps even lighter
Doesn’t mean I’m over ’cause you’re gone
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, stronger
Just me, myself and
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, stronger
Just me, myself and I
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
Stand a little taller
Doesn’t mean I’m lonely when I’m alone
When I’m alone
Songwriters: Alexandra Leah Tamposi / David Gamson / Greg Kurstin / Jorgen Kjell Elofsson
OK, so that’s good, right? A song by an artist with my name, sort of? But then I started thinking about songs with my name in them and remembered an old favorite…
Lyrics
I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls
And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies
My mind’s distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you’re asleep
And kiss you when you start your day
And a song I was writing is left undone
I don’t know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can’t believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme
And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you
And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I
But unfortunately…for you…that reminded me of an even earlier song with my name in it. Kind of a traumatic song really as one of my very first “boyfriends” played it over our junior high school’s loud speaker when we “broke up”. (Dating back then was innocent, short, and sweet, but the break ups were brutal!!
I searched but could not find much by anyone with my current last name. It’s an unusual, shortened name, for immigration here from Italy back in the early 1900’s.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy the variety in my response to the challenge today.
This may be a stretch but I wrote the following letter on this Mother’s Day morning to all the wonderful Mom’s in my life. It may not be a town or region but I myself have always felt most “at home” when I am immersed into motherhood…where ever I am. It is definitely my favorite place in the world.
Dear Beautiful Mothers:
It is such a beautiful morning. I am sitting outside with my coffee, and I just told James, I feel a little like a Disney heroine this morning…like maybe Snow White? I am surrounded by singing birds, bunnies, squirrels and my favorite crows (who come to my call each day). Surely, the seven dwarfs will show up soon…
I am thinking about what Motherhood has meant to me in my life.
I feel such overwhelming gratitude today, Mother’s Day, 2018, even though I had to start “mothering” at such a young age. I did a lousy, uninformed job of it with my younger sisters. (I did do a great job of it with Fluffy, the Duck and with Moose, my very first dog though.)
Can you guess who cut all of our bangs???
But what I got from that experience of early mothering was my life’s “calling”. I have been a mother, in one form or another for my entire life. I have never wondered if it was the right “job” for me. And I continue to be absolutely amazed that, for a large part of my adult life, I actually got paid to be a professional Mom…to hundreds…a few of whom, still honor me with that title today. Amazing! Unexpected! And what a privilege!
I lost my own mother so young but was blessed to have many teachers, mentors, counselors, borrowed Moms, and relatives who all gave me a little mothering along my path. My “adopted” Elaine/Mom took that job on in such a serious and permanent way, she was my mother for more than twice the number of years I got to have my first Mom.
One of my most important and beloved Mentor/Teacher/Auntie/Moms has been Jean Clarke. Lucky for me she taught me very early in our almost 50-year long relationship, that none of us can ever have too many good Mom’s! So, I have tried to live that philosophy…mothering others when I can and accepting that from others when I need it.
Elaine/Mom is on the left and Jean Clarke on the right
When Michael was in his early twenties, I apologized to him for having to be gone so much during his school years. As a single mom, there were years when I worked 3 jobs and was in school full time!! (How did I ever do that??) He said the kindest thing ever. He said “Mom, it’s OK. Don’t you realize what you did for me? I was never alone. You surrounded me with lots of other mothers to take care of me.”
Anyway, I wanted you each to know I think about you on this day.
Those of you who helped me raise Michael…
Those who trusted me to mother you…
Those who mothered me (and those who generously shared your mothers with me) …
Those in my tribe who still mother me today…
Those still mothering younger children with such dedication, creativity and love…
Those who mothered your children so beautifully, they have now become lovely adults…
And those who may still be waiting for the return of that one kid you mothered who has needed to be so very far away from you…I really understand that one…
But the Mom I am most grateful for today is my daughter’s mother, Barbara. I could not raise that beautiful little baby girl and I had to wonder for more than 20 years what mother my daughter had been given to. Now, I know the answer and what a wonderful, kind, loving, open-hearted mother she is. It shows up in her daughter, our daughter…
I am blessed beyond belief to have my daughter’s family in my life.
Happy Mother’s Day and thanks to you all.
I couldn’t really send out enough thank-you bouquets, so I made you all a slide show from my morning walk. I hope you enjoy it.
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Love you all,
Kathie
PS My sweet neighbor, Vasantha, recently gave me an out of the blue, and for no occasion gift, the very best kind! She gave me two pieces of jewelry she said reminded her of me; a ring (blue and silver) and a Two-Cat pin, complete with moving tails. She wrote a lovely card that said “to one who nurtures birds with broken wings, embraces stray cats, and gives shelter to folks wholeheartedly…”
My motherhood recognized…unsolicited. What a gift!
PS Again-And who would have ever thought at this point in my life I would have also earned the title of BUG MOTHER!!!
Final PS, I promise- Don’t even let me get started on Grand-mothering!!!
OK, so when we are in the mountains, I get up very early every morning so that I can watch the sunrise. I love to hear (sometimes see) the marauding Wild Turkeys AND any other wild life passing through that early (deer, moose, coyote, bull frogs, various seed eating birds, etc.)
I sit on the porch swing under a glass roof so I can be there in any weather. This event starts my days with a smile.
the swing is the white strip right below and slightly left of the chimney
This is what I see from my protected seat.
in better weather, the view extends to the mountains
So, I’m all bundled up yesterday, mug of hot coffee warming my hands and I hear a scuffling sound over the edge, just past the rapidly growing daffodils. I get up to investigate and hear it what I see.
this is a container of bird seed!
Uh oh. I realize now what the scuffling sound was. A Squirrel, our primary nemesis here (other than the Flickers that are relentlessly eating our HOUSE!) has somehow gotten the lid off the container.
Though we have finally found a system using Slinky’s to keep him off the bird feeders, STILL he finds this way to torment James, who really wants to resort to the BB Gun. So far, I won’t let him.
BRAZEN fellow, this guy!!
I chase him off before J. can get his weapon, and bring the seed container up to the porch where we have collected a pile of stuff to take to Goodwill. Now the seed is right next to me, within arm’s reach should our invader dare to approach!
Next, I see the squirrel return to the place where the container had been…and he is completely stumped. He knows it was right there just minutes before. He sniffs around frantically and this next thing, I wish I had thought to video tape. He stops, slowly turns and points his angry beady little eyes directly at ME, up on the porch. We stay frozen, in this stand off for long seconds! That GLARE!! (You will never convince me that rodents can’t THINK.)
The squirrel scampers off, disgusted, and after a quick trip inside for more coffee, I return to sitting on my swing, peaceful morning again, at last.
But no, I come back outside to this!!!
In the short time it took me to go inside, this little guy (and several members of his clan) have shown up and eaten a HOLE in the side of the seed container. It is now leaking birdseed for them to chow down on!!!
The irritation came first but then I could not prevent the huge SMILE!
