February 21st, 2008

Drezzer cool

What's With This Traffic? (By Me)

To the tune of "Eleanor Rigby":

Argh, look at all these bonehead people
Argh, look at all these bonehead people


What's with this traffic?
I'm cruising along
and some idiot's tailgating me
Look over and see

The left lane is empty
if you want to go faster
get over and out of this rut
get off of my butt

   All the bonehead people
   where do they all come from?
   All the bonehead people
   why won't they leave me 'lone?

Get off that cellphone
there's no conversation
worth having so much you could die
Just say goodbye

Both hands on the wheel, dude
Try paying attention
to all of the traffic that's up in your face
come back down from space

   All the bonehead people
   where do they all come from?
   All the bonehead people
   why won't they leave me 'lone?

Argh, look at all these bonehead people
Argh, look at all these bonehead people


What's with this traffic?
There's nothing the matter
but people keep on slowing down
Keep moving, clowns!

Look at them sitting
when the light's green they
just sit and won't move their buns
But red lights they run!

   All the bonehead people
   where do they all come from?
   All the bonehead people
   why won't they leave me 'lone?

-The Gneech
beachy

What’s With This Traffic? (filk)

Originally published at gneech.com. You can comment here or there.

To the tune of “Eleanor Rigby”

Argh, look at all these bonehead people
Argh, look at all these bonehead people

What’s with this traffic?
I’m cruising along
and some idiot’s tailgating me
Look over and see

The left lane is empty
if you want to go faster
get over and out of this rut
get off of my butt

   All the bonehead people
   where do they all come from?
   All the bonehead people
   why won’t they leave me ‘lone?

Get off that cellphone
there’s no conversation
worth having so much you could die
Just say goodbye

Both hands on the wheel, dude
Try paying attention
to all of the traffic that’s up in your face
come back down from space

   All the bonehead people
   where do they all come from?
   All the bonehead people
   why won’t they leave me ‘lone?

Argh, look at all these bonehead people
Argh, look at all these bonehead people

What’s with this traffic?
There’s nothing the matter
but people keep on slowing down
Keep moving, clowns!

Look at them sitting
when the light’s green they
just sit and won’t move their buns
But red lights they run!

   All the bonehead people
   where do they all come from?
   All the bonehead people
   why won’t they leave me ‘lone?

-The Gneech

(Originally posted to my LiveJournal.)

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Taishi Conquest

Step Right In

Something that laurie_robey and I have talked about in regards to stories, books, TV shows, or other works of art is the desire to just "step right in" and become part of the world described. And what occurs to me right now is that offhand, I can't think of anything I've seen recently that has given me that feeling.

I don't know if I've gotten too close to the process, or maybe it's just that nothing's caught my imagination really, but it seems to me that any kind of story I've been exposed to recently, I've found myself paying a lot more attention to how it's put together as a piece of work, than to the story being told. Comics, particularly, have had a hard time impressing me because at some level I see it as something that somebody just made up and wrote down.

I wasn't always like this; in fact, once upon a time, I was quite the world-builder. And when I encountered a story, character, or setting that caught my fancy, the first thing I would do when I finished enjoying the work was to build on it, at least in idle speculation, thinking of "further adventures of" or even just enjoying a kind of warm, fuzzy feeling that things were still going on there, even if I wasn't watching them just at that moment.

This is the kind of feeling I've tried to create with both NeverNever and Suburban Jungle. How successful I've been, I'll leave to my readers to decide, but for myself it has varied. Sometimes, when I'm "in the groove," it's easy and the strips practically write themselves -- it's like I'm just reporting what happened. Other times, particularly if I'm tired or harried by Real Life, it becomes a lot more like work as I have to sit there and think up stuff to have happen.

I wonder why that is? And what can be done to facilitate getting back to that "just reporting what happens" feeling. This merits some thought.

-The Gneech
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