#again i know we got some thoughts//about certain songs and inclusions/or lack of /or rearrangement

[munkustrap2019]

OK IMMA COMPLIMENT THE STRUCTURE OF CATS

Here’s the original book with all the info being provided courtesy of wikipedia

"The Naming of Cats"

"The Old Gumbie Cat" (Jennyanydots)

"Growltiger's Last Stand"

"The Rum Tum Tugger"

"The Song of the Jellicles"

"Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer"

"Old Deuteronomy"

"(Of) The Awefull Battle of the Pekes and the Pollicles (Together with Some Account of the Participation of the Pugs and the Poms and the Intervention of the Great Rumpus Cat)"

"Mr. Mistoffelees"

"Macavity: The Mystery Cat"

"Gus: The Theatre Cat"

"Bustopher Jones: The Cat about Town"

"Skimbleshanks: The Railway Cat"

"The Ad-dressing  of Cats"

"Cat Morgan Introduces Himself" (added in the 1952 edition)

and here’s how it was rearranged and intertwined with the plot for the stage

Overture" – Orchestra [honey you’re in for a storm

"Prologue: Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats" [hey this is who we are. buncha cats.

"The Naming of Cats" [we are verrry exclusive so don’t go acting like you know us when you don’t even know all our names

 "The Invitation to the Jellicle Ball" [but we invite you to our ball and we’ll also give you the reason WHY we’re having a ball

"The Old Gumbie Cat" [here’s an old cat we respect who we think might be chosen because we love her

"The Rum Tum Tugger" [here’s a younger cat we love, an absolute blast, lots of fun

"Grizabella: The Glamour Cat" [ here’s an older cat WE DON’T RESPECT but when she was younger we did love her..she was so much fun...and posh...

 "Bustopher Jones: The Cat About Town" [here’s an older posh cat we respect

"Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer" [here is a ~hint that there’s something scary out there but! aha the young rascals we love at the end of the day

"Old Deuteronomy" [OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLD CAT WE LOVE]

"The Awefull Battle of the Pekes and the Pollicles" [A FUN PLAY to kick the night off /we should think about re-writing this a bit tho...

"The Jellicle Ball" [A FUN DANCE

"Grizabella: The Glamour Cat (Reprise)" [BUT SHE’S NOT INVITED

"Memory (Prelude)" [even though she remembers when she used to have fun with us

"The Moments of Happiness" [lmao treasure your happiness while its there

Gus the theater cat [because soon it will be an old dream as you see your abilities sink with age

"Growltiger's Last Stand" /not in 1998 and replaced by pekes and pollicles in 2016 so imma skip it but we should REALLY think about getting this song re-written as well/

"Skimbleshanks: The Railway Cat" [here’s an older cat who we love again!!

"Macavity: The Mystery Cat" [here’s a rascal we don’t love at all. he’s kinda a punk. 0/10 not welcome.

"Mr. Mistoffelees" [young cat who has our attention and brings back someone beloved to us back to our side

"Memory" [ya’ll stop being mean to grizabella she has a show stopper song and allow this old cat we used to love back into the fold]

journey to the heaviside layer [we wish her safe travels and a great rebirth

"The Ad-Dressing of Cats" [now that we’ve introduced you to people we love, let you hang with us, and heck even named some of ourselves and found it within ourselves to accept someone we used to know back into our fold, you are now officially welcome to act like you know us

and for a littttle bit of positivity towards the 2019 movie [aka my brand]

"Overture"/"Prologue: Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats" [esentially the same with transporting us into the world of who knows what? CATS BUNCHA CATS

"The Naming of Cats"/"The Invitation to the Jellicle Ball" [VERY SPECIAL CATS KINDA EXCLUSIVE BUT WE’D LIKE TO LET YOU KNOW US

"Jennyanydots: The Old Gumbie Cat" [let’s start with a cat we think might win because munkustrap loves her bless his heart

"The Rum Tum Tugger" [let’s interrupt with a younger cat who is already having a blast by himself but encourages you to also have a blast

"Grizabella: The Glamour Cat" [victoria don’t go near her she’s not invited -.- even as you see the loads of history that she must have with us

 "Bustopher Jones: The Cat About Town" [ha! that was a downer huh...anyone hungry? can’t go to the ball on an empty stomach

"Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer" [some young rascals who are kinda punks but sadly we are in love with them

 "Growltiger's Last Stand" [wait a minute.. this is a henchguy...shady people from before...hmmm...1...plu-...no wait a second this isn’t math time

"Old Deuteronomy" [mom!mom!mom!

"The Jellicle Ball" [dance party time

"Memory (Prelude)"/"Beautiful Ghosts" [its nice that there’s a party guys but it feels mean to leave her out...especially since you’ve been nice enough to make me feel at least a little accepted

"The Moments of Happiness" [is it mean to keep shunning someone we used to love and refuse to allow her to be reborn at least in terms of how we perceive her character...

"Gus: The Theatre Cat" [I mean gus just wants to be able to percieve himself as worth something again too

"Skimbleshanks: The Railway Cat [we came here to celebrate bops guys forget literally everything

 "Macavity: The Mystery Cat" [HENCHCATS FROM OUR NEMESIS WHO ALSO WANTS A CHANGE OF LIFE AND ITS JUST THE ABSOLUTE WORST WAY TO ASK

"Mr. Mistoffelees" [if munkustrap is allowed to serve up a song, maybe its ok if i the newbie suggest a cat song for the purpose of bringing back old deut and getting that boy some self esteem. Believe in yourself guys and magic!!

"Memory" [victoria; mister mistoffelees worked out better than i could’ve hoped maybe i can work out one more... grizabella: ya’ll remember when it was great to hang out? well i do and it makes me feel so alone and angry and tired and sad because it shouldn’t be impossible to get happiness back when the worst thing i’ve done recently is want to come back

"Beautiful Ghosts (Reprise)" [i mean we’re all jellicle cats right?

"The Journey to the Heaviside Layer" [let’s get some joy in her life again

"Finale: The Ad-Dressing of Cats" [we are family! victoria! you’re a jellicle babe literally do not hesitate to consider us yours

[temenosjournal]

It’s that time of year when everyone gathers a list of all The Best of, of which this not, or least not ‘best’ as in good, or should be nominated for a Giller Prize. Anyways, I got looking back through my drafts, and actually used one from the summer for a recent post (shhh…not saying which), and thought maybe I’d take a look at what I posted, in comparison to what got shelved.

I haven’t edited these (well, some spelling cause I am horrid). So, here we go, for better or worse.

~~~~~*~~~~~

HOW TO TALK TO TREES – [March 6th]

It has come to my attention recently that I’m not a total whack job, and that talking to Fred, my Ficus, is not completely in vain.

Yip, that’s it. Had been watching this Doc on the interconnected nature of trees, and was spellbound by the bond they have with their environment, how they send out nourishment to their offspring, and the …well anyways, began to sound in my head like I was writing some article for National Geographic, and not a personal blog. So that was ditched.

Five days later I published this – make it so. Instead, I wrote about my Ficus benjamina that I call Fred. And yes, I do talk to Fred, we’ve been together now for over 25 years, so we know each other well.

Then, later in the month I dove back into the heady waters of U.S. Politics, of which I do try to stay clear, but not always successfully. This is a product, you know, of my insatiable news addiction, I need to find a new hobby. But anyways.

~ * ~

AND I CRIED REAL TEARS [March 26th]

Was cleaning the front door yesterday afternoon, as the rain fell, I’d got ansy and found myself on this cleaning spree. Had swept and washed the floors, after rearranging everything last week, so the door was the last on the list. Had the music playing, some random Classical playlist from YouTube, so I’d been zening out all afternoon. Scrubbing away all this dirt and grime that had collected somehow to almost a degree that I found rather shocking I hadn’t noticed earlier, washing away the dirt of almost 4 years. And than it played…

‘Tis the gift to be simple, ‘Tis the gift to be free, ‘Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be, And when we find ourselves in the place just right ‘Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

One of my favourite versions, from ‘Appalachian Waltz’, with Yo Yo Ma and Allison Krause…stunning.

And somehow these tears came to my eyes.

It has always reminded me of my Grandmother, that song Simple Gifts, as she used to hum it all the time. It was one of her favourite songs, and basically in a number of ways sums up some of the things she taught me.

But these tears were not for her.

No, these tears were maybe frustration, disillusionment. When I look south of the Canadian border and look towards my Fathers family, I don’t know who it is I see anymore. What did I miss?

And don’t get me wrong, this creeping fear of the other has manifested itself here, with comments on come across on Facebook, and snide remarks about new policies in Toronto schools about providing a place for those of other faiths to pray, such as Muslim. And the quip about taking out the Lord’s Prayer in the morning, as I stand in line with them after work on Sunday afternoon at some retail store. Doesn’t prevent them from SHOPPING on Sunday though, I see.

Anyways, I am delusional.

Completely off in LaLa land to actually imagine maybe the world was a different place than it is.

I get sad, you know? I cry real tears for an America I understand. And I hear those beautiful words, of that simple song, and I can’t help but wonder, what happened to just simple gifts? You know, like maybe inclusion, community, compassion, empathy, faith, understanding? Love? When we have so much, and there are those with so little.

And all this hate, for what? 

To what ends? 

And God alone knows what the heck conspiracy theory of the moment is, but mark my words, you can guarantee someone is benefiting a WHOLE bunch.

And, dang it all, why am I crying REAL TEARS over this!!!??

I’m saddened, sure, just more than I realized.

How did this once great nation lets the wolves in? How?

With racism, and hate. Well, and believing all the BS that these talking heads spout.

See, I don’t watch TV, don’t catch the evening news, don’t follow the latest crap of some Kardashian or some other media “star”.

Seriously, couldn’t care less. Actually, I could care less, but I don’t believe there is an actual word for how much less I could care. So there.

But there I was, washing my door, and listening to simple gifts, and crying real tears.

I was born in the North Carolina, and lived there, in a dinky little trailer till I was 2 and a half. After which I’ve merely spent vacations every few years in the south. Driving down I95, winding so far round Washington D.C. and then crossing that Mason Dixon line, everytime thinking about why it’s there, and what that line means.

Same division, just I guess the lines got a little tangled up over the years, but there is still a line.

And I cried real tears, thinking about a place that I thought was just crawling out of that dark age it put itself into, through racism and hate of the other. Thought maybe they had learned a thing or three.

See, delusional.

A day later, I posted this – EUSTON. Just pictures, no words.

But I couldn’t let it go. That sense of something lost haunted me, but I decided I needed to say it in another way, so I went back and finally posted The Comfort Of Historical Knowledge. [April 6th] The featured image was a shot of the floorboards of the old attic, or we called the attic; actually would have been the servants quarters back in the mid-1800’s. It was taken just before the space was renovated as a suite for Dad and MsB a couple years ago.

~ * ~ THE VALUE OF THE EARTH OUTSIDE MY DOOR [April 28th]

The dirt underneath my fingernails, the sweet scent of the earth, the hope and gratitude gardening creates is a beautiful distraction from the insanity that haunts me. Or, rather I suppose that I allow to haunt me. For I do hunt for the tidbits the same as any other news junkie. I can’t help it.

It’s an insidious hate that poverty doth wrought. On the backs of those whose very existence is hand to mouth. Kept ignorant, impoverished and at the mercy of those whose actions, when they do choose to act, are done always for their own benefit. Believing every hateful utterance that condemns those they have been trained to be hateful towards. It’s a vicious, self-serving blanket of lies and half-truths, that haphazardly covers any truths they wish to hide from.

And, so I garden.

Ugh.

So, it is to the garden that I escape. At the end of the sidewalk, inbetween, is where you will often find me. Sitting on my stoop, with my dog at my feet, soaking in the shade of the Black Walnut over my head, here in my nook.

Instead, I posted garden the very same day.

This was one of the first where I took those long-winded essays and swept away whole sections, getting right to the core, but this time I left the two separated.

Yet, at other times, I ignored it completely and went off in a completely different direction. ~ * ~

DOING WHAT YOUR NOT SUPPOSE TO [June 8th]

Even now, I still half expect him to show up some night, real late at night when I have to work early early early the next morning, just like he always did. I don’t really believe he would, and he said he never would, not in two million years, but I still half expect it. Like anyone I’ve cared for, figures into my world long past there expiration date. Not so much from some pathetic belief they want something, but more as a fantasy, I suppose, so I know they really did actually care.

Although, in BealArt guys case it was never clear if he actually could feel real emotions anymore, or if everything had just been switched off when his baby girl passed on that night so long ago.

His ability to feel was always a joke, but I always thought he was the way he was because his feelings ran so deep, they were so big, but he never learned how to deal with them, just how to control them. Though every now again I could see the side of his mouth twitch, you know, like a ventiquilquist.

Instead, later that same day I posted – On Creating Woodlandia, And How You Can Too

Two shots I didn’t include with that post, for whatever reason.

Yes, I do sometimes prefer plants to humans, far less complicated.

~ * ~

paulab’s day off [July 4th]

i smelled the scent of the milkweed in the morning sun hundreds of them in bloom around me and i did not know that they had a scent at all as the morning coolness gave way to the noon day sun alone amongst them in wonder there atop the rise at euston meadow. later with nowhere to be but sit and watch the light change under the walnut tree in the in-between garden just watching shadows play dancing on the sidewalk flickering and i catch the breeze with my bohemian dress and skip over the cracks in the light fantastic on my way to a new day.

Which I guess I was going to post in response to a Photo Challenge, but something stopped me. Instead, the next day I posted this, actually for another Photo Challenge – a bridge for the sun.

It was inspired by a walk a couple of days before, and the air was filled with the smell of Milkweed from Euston Meadow. Even the next morning, when I was riding to work, as I rode by it was intoxicating. There were hundreds and hundreds of them, great sweeps of them. I had no idea Milkweed could smell so sweet.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Can’t remember what books it’s from, but it applies, “it was the best of times, it was the worst of times”. It’s interesting, looking back at what I posted, and what I left unsaid. Kind of a snapshot, in a certain way, of my writing process (or lack of at times). Sometimes its something I came back to, while others never saw the light of day, till now.

As this year comes to a close, I do want to thank you, all you who read my simple words.

Love,

The Best Of What I Didn’t Say This Year It's that time of year when everyone gathers a list of all The Best of, of which this not, or least not 'best' as in…