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Saturday, April 27, 2013

Secrets

I am both ridiculous & easily amused by simple things.
Shhhh...don't tell...
(Not a vintage toy piano, but I'll get around to one eventually.)
This one may look silly, but it has a lovely sound.
When I finally do record the absurd songs I've been writing, I will have kazoos & toy pianos. :D mwahahah!
 

I suck at blogging.

True story.

I keep secrets.

I do not welch on them.

Which is, perhaps, why I make such a very bad blogger.

Lips sealed.

Key thrown away.

An old skeleton key.

I am like a perplexing/annoying matrjoschka doll.

There is always one more doll hidden inside the last doll...& she's not giving up her secrets.

Perhaps I will blog photos & leave others to decipher my thoughts.

Like song lyrics that no one ever, eeeevaaar understands.

Exhibit A: I Am the Walrus?

Anyone?

John Lennon, Sir???

I'll bet you didn't realize that John & I were an item back in the early 60s.  Several decades before my birth...via Doctor Who's Tardis.  Obviously.  ;)

(John's clueless too...too much LSD in the 60s for him.)  :P

Ah, but there is glory in a nonsense rhyme.  :D

My, what a grand sentence.

Never mind.

A sort of secret.  A pilfered/commandeered Beatles album (well a 45...or is it a 35?-whatever you actually call the smaller vinyl disc thingies...I seem to have forgotten.)  Pilfered from an aunt & uncle.  (Don't worry, they won't care...they're not fond of The Beatles.)

Well, it could be that my fantastic secret keeping abilities are due rather to the fact that I am absented minded.

Perhaps I forget them?

I believe I mentioned my forgetfulness.

Do Geisha's have secrets?  Secrets of the Far East?  I feel like that could have been the tagline to some 1950s film set in a Japanese garden with cherry blossoms.  Only moderately politically incorrect, right?

Also, I am terribly oblivious.

If honked at in traffic, I will more than likely, never ever even hear.

I've had men flirt with me, only to realize the fact 10 days, or so, later.

Junk drawers hold secrets...& fanciful ice cube trays (well, mine does...ice cube trays that is).

One in particular, a shoe salesman, I was convinced he was working on commission (thus, the hovering like a helicopter) which was not the case...poor man.

I was vaguely annoyed he wouldn't let me try shoes on in peace.

So oblivious.

Oops.

I need the cartoon, acme anvil to drop on my head.

A great grandmother's vintage, heart shaped, bejeweled treasure box.

Anyhoo, I am straying from my original thought.

Secrets.

I guess I'd forgotten that these were the 'secrets' hidden inside the gold box.  Semi-gross.  My baby teeth.  Hiding them from the tooth fairy?  Who knows.

I was trying to recall some to spill.

About myself...

It wouldn't be playing nice to spill them about other people.

A secret with no answer?  Who is he?  He looks a bit like my Grandad, so I know they were related (& hence, I).  I have yet to discover the gentleman's name, but he hangs in an antique, oval frame near by brass bed.

And I'm drawing a blank.

Fudge.

I sometimes have delusions of grandeur.

(Perhaps that isn't such a secret.)

The world will bow down to my tiny, child-sized feet one day!-bahahah!

(The previous sentence was dripping with sarcasm, just in case you were worried about my hubris/megalomania/hubris...yes, I said 'hubris' twice, it's just fun, a fun word...well, mostly dripping.  I am half-serious.)  ;)

My obscenely large trove of sequined (gloriously kitschy) jackets/shirts/dresses...is perhaps, not such a secret.

I do have one secret super-power.

Although it is a bit like being Aquaman, in that I am not certain it is a truly useful 'super-power' to have.  ;)

I sing rather a bit better than I let on.

 
At least this is my belief...from what I've heard on the inside of my skull where the acoustics sound lovely.  ;)

My fear is that I am really tone-deaf like the poor suckers who appear on American Idol, convinced that they sound like...God & Freddie Mercury & Whitney Houston & Pavarotti & Streisand & Josh Groban all rolled into one delicious burrito.  ;)

 
Oh well.

Better to have hope.  ;)

And, even if you suck, you should still enjoy singing, right?  ;)

Don't let the naysayers ruin your fun.

Just be kind & bring them earplugs...you can motion when it's time to clap riotously.


Anyhoo, what a lame secret to share...as it is, I don't believe I have a great many secrets.

Perhaps none that I care to divulge.  ;)

Although, I have been called 'mysterious' before.

My feeling though, is simply, if one has not been asked a question, why give an answer?

And, oddly enough for someone writing a blog, I am my least favorite subject to discuss.

Even this feels a bit bizarre.

But there you are.

I am always a contradiction.

And who could this mysterious figure be?

Anyhoo, as it is, I've let this blog (hate the word 'blog') post sit here too long like a hen guarding the eggs.

And I have run out of things that I would like to say.

For now.

A dancing lady.

And the secrets I thought I would divulge...yeah...I have decided against such a rash & WILD, WILD thing.  ;)

That, or in letting this pot boil over the fire, bubble, bubble...I have forgotten what I was saying...which is probably the truer statement.

Is a tiny ballerina in a musical jewelry box a good secret?  I often thought it was rather wonderful & strange, little pirouetting ladies to guard sparkly trinkets.

So good night.

And have an awesomesocks day.

Tomorrow.


P.S.
And some music with toy piano & melodica to roll the credits.  As I have been obsessing over the jangly, twinkly sound of the toy piano.  And the melodica is just wonderfully weird.  And this man is just awesome.  Whoever he is.  Vladimir Yatsina.
 

~Anon, Anon!~