Why I'm Afraid of Guns

Periodically I get this strange, desperate need to learn what I think of as "survival skills"--talents that would make me useful in a post-apocalyptic world so that no band of ravaging mutants would kill me for my meat. This sounds like some put-on eccentricity, I know, but I'm totally freakin' serious. Thanks to this urge, I now know how to generate emergency power in four ways that have nothing to do with city electrical grids (and two ways that do). I should also note here that the only reason I ever learned to read electrical schematics was to add to my apocalypse survival skill set. I have a lot of standard identify edibles, start fires, navigation type survival skills. 

I practice climbing shit all the time. You never know when you'll have a need to get to higher ground.

From time to time I'll think, "Hannah, it's time you learned to fire a fucking gun, like, for reals." 'Cuz really, when it comes time to confront the post-apocalyptic mutants, what if they're too starved for human flesh to recognize my usefulness? Shouldn't I be able to blast them apart and cause them to fear me and my mighty boomstick?

But there will certainly be confusion after the apocalypse. We will be busy establishing fiefdoms and competing in thunderdomes.  Also, killer mutants.  And in all that confusion, what if someone mixes in magic bullets with the normal bullets? And what if one of the bullets I put in my gun is enchanted so that it will only seek out and kill the shooter's one true love? And what if I shot that bullet?

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Still kinda cheesy. But getting better. It works better with a little more straight-forward story telling, I think. Maybe. It's so hard to sound genuine.

Champagne Summer 

The song of our small affair
Is sung by your wedding ring
Caught up in my hair
Catching the light and shining

((In the champagne summer))

The first kiss of the new year
The new first of the kiss year
I wish I could love you
I wish you were here

((In the champagne summer))

See that room with the couch
With a crank to pull it out
And scratches all over the walls
That's where I learned to drink
Learned how not to sleep
Learned to learn nothing at all

So let's make a toast to making do
Let's make a toast to getting by
When Nothing is delivered
At least Nothing will arrive

((In the champagne summer))

The first kiss of the new year
The new first of the kiss year
I wish I could love you
I wish you were here

((In the champagne summer))

I wish I could love you
I wish you were here

Hello Livejournal, I'm back. Because I'm going "retro". Also, because it's almost like a secret, using something so passe it barely constitutes a "social networking site". Finally, because it's not blocked while I'm at work and I've got so much stirring up in me lately I can't stop it from overflowing.

Some songs about summer I'm working on...

My Summer Fling
I like this one, Britches is writing music for it cuz I'm too lazy.

It's the way your eyes are heavy
Like they weigh more than mine
It's the way you're so distracted
When I'm curled up by your side

{When you get tripped up
Slipped up by your own lies
I will offer alternatives
You will respectfully decline

The smell of your hair
Covering my pillow
Can it be my pillow
If it smells so much like you?}

The way you disappeared for hours
Me with my shaking hands
The way you came back with flowers
Packs of seeds you just threw out

{chorus}

I cast the movie of my life
Last night in the kitchenette
You were played by a dull knife
And I wasn't even in it

----------------------------------------------

Champagne Summer
This one might be too melodramatic...

And the arc of our love affair
Was described by your fingers
Strangled in my tangled hair

As the lonely sun ingratiates
The grass, the blades all suffocate
From the heat and turn brittle
And bitter and brown

This champagne summer

See that room with the couch
With a crank to pull out
And scratches all over the walls
That's where I learned to drink
Learned how not to sleep
Learned to learn nothing at all

Days rise like bubbles
Champagne summer
We break like bottles
Champagne summer

Poor metaphor, pour metaphor

------------------------------------

Dirt Town
cuz we gots nuthin

People come and people go
Just song fades on the radio
Soon there'll be no noise at all
Here in Dirt Town</lj-cut>

www.bomp.com