I can beta. I'm about to eat dinner and watch What's Up, Tiger Lily? though, so I won't get to it for a couple hours, if that's okay. And I definitely enjoy a little surreal ridiculousness, especially when it's in the real world, so I'll tell you if that works or not.

Me Please, Allyson.

Looking Down #1

His feet are tired, and his belly grumbles emptily. It's the waiting that's hard, all of them gathered here in a sort of hallowed silence. He shifts restlessly from one foot to the other, the yellow talons relaxing and reclasping the rough bark of the tree. His mate mantles, her wings spreading briefly to resettle her glossy black feathers. The rest of their flock is restless as well, one or two snaking out a bald head on a wrinkled red neck to better peer at the animal on the ground below, each thinking the same thing: "Is it dead yet?"

Looking Down #2

The woman wears sandals and capri pants, the strap of her bag over her shoulder. Beside her is a boy, about eight, and on her hip is a little girl in a pink sundress. On either side stand two men with hard hats.Their truck is nearby, the ladders and tools on it useless at the moment. A rescue truck is here, too, its light revolving mindlessly, and a paramedic crouches above the body of his partner, who is at full stretch on the ground, his head disappearing into the uncapped manhole.

From below there comes a frightened, faraway echo: "Miaouw?"

insent beverly, and thanks!

Back to you, Allyson. Hee!

He really and truly called to ask if I could find a good home for Finn, Marti's dog (yes, how Riley got his last name). I think it all worked itself out, in the end.

Expecting a call any day now to find a home for Petrie's fish, if he has any.

Only if they're piranhua, right? Home-finder to the stars' pets, that should be your job sub-title.

Heh. Allyson, I was out and just got home, but would love to beta if beta is still desired.

edit: muHAHAHA! Backsent, with a bit of happy commentary.

Here's something I haven't posted before: a song lyric. Here's the backstory.

Just about twenty-eight years ago, after a gig in Oakland, I was walking past a side street of the theatre and spotted a pair of men's boots dangling out of the back seat of a limo. I stopped and complimented the gent in question (we'll call him, er, Boss) on a kickass good show. He complimented me right back, on my custom pajamas (red baby bunting with black bunny rabbits, custom-made for me, with a plunging veenecked top and wide legs, worn with 5" knock-me-down-and-do-me bondage shoes), and offered me a ride back into SF. I thanked him cheerfully, said no, I had a return bus ticket, and headed off into the night.

About a block away, I stopped in my tracks and stood there, asking myself if I had really just said no to, er, a guy called Boss. Because what had been going on in my tiny little mind? OK, I was a wreck over the big breakup with my best-beloved, but was I brain-damaged, or something? I managed to convince myself, after drawing stares from several of the locals because I was arguing with myself out loud, that all he'd really meant was a lift back to SF.

Whatever. Deb, she has a streak of chastity in her that has occasionally cost her. Or maybe it's plain prudery.

Anyway, the song - which has been performed by our former band (me, Nic, Jeff on lead guitar and drummer Mark) and is on tape, is a wistful little fantasy about what might have happened had I accepted the lift. It's a funky upbeat blues, vamping in A7, for the musicians out there:

Deep Red Joy

Six o'clock on a Sunday morning, the mission man was getting hungry
I said, I know an all-night Chinese joint, you drown your troubles in bok choy
Looked me up and down and grinned, said honey, it aint that kind of need
freshen up your lipstick
let me taste a little bit and
share some of your, share some of your
deep red joy.

Met the mission man in Berkeley, feet up in the hired limo
took one look through the window and I knew that I just had to have the boy
he beckoned 'cross the sleeping guitars, rolled down the window, said, climb on in
you know I like your red pajamas, would you care to
share some of my, share some of my
deep red joy
into the car, into the city
sitting duck, I'm sitting on my luck you know I'm sitting pretty
he passed me the bottle, I hold it by the neck, gone, aint it a pity
we're gonna drink just a little bit....

Sometime between night and morning, he parked his boots and folded his jacket
we got clean and we got dirty and the sky turned as red as a blushing boy
hand to hand and hand to mouth, eye to eye and belly to belly
he left me a note and a number to call and the
rest of the bottle of that old bottle of
deep red joy.

(must dig out the tape, since I'm thinking of playing it with Matt and Nic)

Now I really want to hear the melody.

When we do it, I'll tape it.

Nic plays a thundery cool bassline under my rhythm guitar, and I'm betting Matt - a fingerpicker, not a rhythm guitarist - is going to do some very cool stuff with it.

Was this the first song lyric anyone's posted in here? Should I do more? We had a working band for a few years, and I wrote the songs.