I woke up today feeling surprisingly un-dead. That’s un-dead with a hyphen, meaning “didn’t die of swine flu during the night”, not undead all-one-word, meaning “heightened senses, intoxicated by the scent of blood and at one with an all-consuming darkness”, just for the record. Although that too, of course; who isn’t? Anyway I was able to do some sewing, and am pleased to report that I successfully constructed a 2-D fabric birdhouse all on my ownsome. With the little hole for the door, and everything. This quilt is proving to be a very useful training tool; I can applique like a fish now. How did the universe stagger along before the invention of double-sided interfacing?
Also, I was wondering: at a guess, how many songs do you know? Well enough to sing with, say, 80% accuracy: not just being able to hum along to the chorus. It occurs to me that counting musicals, hymns, folk songs, Christmas carols and the like I could well know upwards of a thousand. The oeuvres of the Everly Brothers and the Seekers alone make up a good few dozen, and I don’t even know all their songs. I wonder how much brain power the average joe today must use up on accidentally memorising songs: and how many of said songs he actually likes? I wonder, also, how many of said thousand songs I would be able to remember if a gangster tied me to a bridge, put a gun to the rope and told me to sing constantly for 24 hours, with no pauses and no repeats, on pain of sleeping with the fishes. Would my brain give out before my voice? Well, not currently, ’cause my voice is on the fritz due to the aforementioned swine flu. Would make an interesting film though, no? Like that one about the cellphone.. “If the signal dies, so does she”. Or not, possibly: I didn’t see it. Meryl Streep should star in it, she’s smashing. Streep. Streep streep streep. Is that her real name? “Streep Throat”, it could be called. Gosh, I’m feeling a bit ooey.
I think I’ll sit down quite calmly and blanket-stitch some wings on a fabric birdie while watching Lois and Clark.