On Songwriting and the Cat

Every once in a while a song whacks me upside the head, usually when I'm working on something entirely different. It seems to be happening more often lately, and I'm not complaining in the least. The last time it happened, I wanted to write a song about a particular friend, and ended up with "The River".

This isn't about the song I was writing, or even much about the process. It's about my wonderful flower_cat.

Back five days ago when I first told her about it, she nodded approvingly and said I'd been listening to Amy (my muse, not to be confused with other Amys in my life). So I guess that when I spent a restless Saturday afternoon and evening, she knew what was coming.

Yesterday morning, she didn't even ask; just took a phone, her laptop, a big glass of iced tea, and a bowl of munchies and parked herself out on the front porch. I had the impression that she was waiting for A, who was coming over to do some gardening, and wanted to people-watch in the neighborhood. All of which was true, but mostly she was staying out of my way. I'm afraid she knows me too well.

She knows that if she breaks my concentration she's likely to get snapped at. It's not because I'm angry but just because I'm startled, but it hurts her. (About 8 hours pass, during which I go reluctantly to work.) And, yeah; I could have been bouncing in and out of the office to spend time with her, but I wouldn't have been able to concentrate, and she would have been hurt again every time I crawled back into my hole. It worked.

By dinnertime I had a cheerful Cat and a good song. Yay!

QOTD

Y.D.: I can't find Serenity.

me: Try Buddhism.

Song: "Quiet Victories"

Lyrics page [pdf] [ogg] [mp3]

Quiet Victories

© Stephen Savitzky. Some Rights Reserved.

Sit down with me and talk a while;
And please believe me when I say
I don't need much to make me smile,
Just tell me how you spent your day.
I don't need tales of heros bold
Gentle lady, tell to me,
Some tale of yours you've never told;
About some quiet victory.

    Forget heroic fantasy
    That's not the tale I need to hear,
    Tell me of quiet victory
    Of love and life against your fear.

Don't tell me of the Amazon
The battle-lust hot in her breast;
Just tell me what the mirror showed: 
A warrior's scar across your chest.
Would he still love you after that?
Would you die beneath the knife?
The cancer gave you Devil's odds;
You rolled the dice and won your life.

    And still you see your friends and kin
    Make their throw, to lose or gain
    Against the old familiar foes
    Grief and fear and death and pain.

Don't tell me of the shieldmaid bold,
Her laughter in the face of death
I'll take the smile you gave your son
To cheer him as he fought for breath.
No matter that your heart was filled
With fear you gamely had to hide;
No matter what it cost to spend
The next two days there at his side.

    You tell me that it wasn't hard,
    Snd it was love that saw you through.
    Yes, I believe you when you say
    It's what a mother has to do.

I've heard you sing a Goddess' praise
On Athens' ramparts standing fast;
What did your grey-eyed lady sing
When she proclaimed her love at last?
What does it cost you two to share
A love that half the world despise?
What did it take to tell your Mom
And face the anger in her eyes?

    It's not a myth you're living now
    The hate you'll face is all too real;
    You'll make it through the coming years
    With hearts of glass and nerves of steel.

That tale of dwarves, and rings of gold,
Dragons flying through the air
Is that the movie that your girl
Was watching in intensive care?
And when at last she's home again,
You dread the word you'll have to say:
She asks, can she walk home from school?
You swallow hard, and say ``OK''.

    Tires squeal all afternoon;
    Tbe sirens make your blood run cold.
    She'll be a woman all too soon;
    You let her grow up strong and bold.

instrumental

    Forget heroic fantasy
    That's not the tale I need to hear,
    Tell me of quiet victory
    Of love and life against your fear.

    Here's to the women, gently brave
    Mothers, daughters, lovers, wives,
    And to the quiet victories
    We seldom notice in their lives.

( Notes: )

This song was largely inspired by the last few weeks on and off LJ, though it's pulled in a few other things along the way. It could easily have been two or three times as long, and may yet; I have the feeling that this tale may grow in the telling.

Future posts on related subjects will have the qv tag; feel free to use it. You're also welcome to the icon (ganked from Wikipedia -- seemed appropriate).

Your comments are very welcome. Did you see yourself here? Do you have a totally different story to tell? I want to hear. But if you want to tell me that you weren't being courageous, that it wasn't hard at all, that you didn't have to think twice about what you did--well, go ahead, but that's kind of the point, isn't it? Stand up and take a bow anyway.

6/10 5:30am Stupid, stupid bear. The [mp3] link will work now.

And if you want to record it, just drop me a note -- and a copy of the CD -- and send the royalties to an appropriate charity.

Party at the Starport Saturday June 14

There will be one of our four annual parties here at Grand Central Starport (San Jose, CA in case you're just tuning in) this coming Saturday. Maps, directions, contact information, and so on are on the household web page.

As usual, it's a potluck. There will almost certainly be filking, if only to show off my latest song.

Weirdness

I was just noticing, this afternoon, how deeply, disturbingly weird it feels to be able to honestly answer "really well" when somebody asks me how I'm doing. I mean, really weird.

Not complaining, you understand. Just saying.