My brother Rick and nephew Mitch in a PBS spot:



Here's his home page:
http://ricktamblyn.com/index.html

(For previous NEWS entries, just scroll down.)


These days we hear a lot about becoming good citizens of the world.
In that spirit, I've decided to show my solidarity by celebrating all the
national holidays of every country. This means from now on I'll only
be working two days a year. I hope you'll join me in this respectful
recognition of our planetary unity.

A few of my favorites:

Liberia: Matilda Newport Day, December 1. "A festival in honor of a
widowed pioneer who lit a cannon with her pipe and saved her country
in 1822 when under siege by tribespeople."

Mongolia: Naadam Festival, July 11-13. Three day holiday for "the
manly games of horse racing, archery, and Mongolian wrestling."
(Women compete too, except in the manly wrestling.)

Finland: Walpurgis Night, April 30. "In the Norse tradition, bonfires
are built to keep away the dead and chaotic spirits that are said to
walk among the living."

Japan: Coming of Age Day, 2nd Monday in January. "All people who
turned 20 during the last year are congratulated. Cities and towns
hold ceremonies with alcoholic beverages, which are the privilege of
adults."

Russia: Conception Day, Sept. 12. Everybody gets a day off to stay home, have sex, and create babies. (The population is declining.) If you produce a baby 9 months later, you're eligible to win a prize.

You can't have too many great holidays!

As you know, from time to time I like to send you some items of
interest. So in no particular order, here are five I felt worth
passing along.

1. Patch Adams and Gesundheit Institute are calling on friends and
allies to help their grassroots campaign raise $1 million by the end
of 2008. These funds will help build the Patch Adams Free Clinic and
Teacher Center in West Virginia. In the clinic they'll deliver health
care in a context that is their ideal design; in the teaching center
they'll educate other health care practitioners to create their own
ideal design. Transform health care through the power of a positive
model. Join them in thinking inside our hearts but outside the box!
Visit http://www.patchadams.org

2. My former marketing guru Jean Eisenhower has written a
fascinating book about her experiences with UFOs, the FBI, and other
out of the ordinary events. Her book is getting great reviews and you
can learn about it here: http://www.rattlesnakefire.net

3. If you have some time to spend on your ipod, I just did an
interview about humor with Jeffrey Milburn of the Omni Art Salon.
Jeffrey's a creative, zany interviewer and we had way too much fun.
He also has dozens of other podcasts with people a lot more
well-known (and interesting) than I am. Check him out at:
http://www.omniartsalon.com/oas-123-humor-me-alive-with-greg-tamblyn/

4. My friend Art Holt writes and publishes a unique online journal
about spiritual matters. He always has a refreshing and empowering
perspective: http://www.upwardboundjournal.com

5. At a conference recently I met a wonderful lady, Tina Feigal, who
has one of the more interesting jobs I've come across: Parent Coach.
She's had loads of success with families who have challenging kids.
She's even done it on TV in Minneapolis. Check her out here:
http://www.nurturedheart.com

As always, thanks for reading, and for staying in touch. I hope to
see you soon out there on the road. My upcoming schedule is available
here: http://gregtamblyn.com/calendar.html

Be well, be silly,
Greg

"They say that nobody's perfect. Then they tell you practice makes
perfect. I wish they would make up their minds."
-- Wilt Chamberlain

You know me. I don't go all gushy too often.
But this is what just happened.

We were at a conference, sitting in an audience listening to a speaker talk about his life's work. Within minutes we felt fully engaged and, I have to say it, totally inspired. We began to be filled with hope in a way many of us had never quite experienced. We felt we'd been given an answer to one of life's most intractable human problems.

When he finished, two hundred fifty people stood and applauded for what seemed like several minutes. A few people were crying. When the applause finally stopped, we all sat back down in silence. Nobody moved. Even though it was time to go to the next event, we didn't want this to end. Nobody wanted to leave. Nobody wanted it to be over. We all wanted this energy to continue, and to stay connected in the message we just heard that pointed the way to freedom and hope for so many people.

When was the last time you saw that happen in an audience?

Who is this person?

No, it's not Barack Obama (although I hear he's a pretty good speaker).
It's a guy you might never have heard of.
His name is Bill Strickland.

I can't do justice to Bill's story in a few words, but I'll tell you this: he has developed a remarkable, original, powerful way to take poor inner city kids and adults with few prospects, and renew their spirits with respect, the arts, skills training, and the ability to create a good life. He does this by immersing them in music, crafts, design, orchids, beautiful buildings, good food, caring instructors, and first-class training in many fields.
The story of how all this came about and how well it works is riveting and, as I said, incredibly inspiring.

He has succeeded where school systems and public programs have failed. He has succeeded so well (for 40 years), that his efforts are now being replicated in several cities. The goal is 200 cities. It's achievable.

Would you like to experience a bit of this?

I'll give you a link below to some short video clips of what we saw. Watch them and be uplifted. Also consider buying his new book, "Make the Impossible Possible," at the same link, which I recommend.

Bill is now attracting the attention of some wealthy foundations and famous business leaders to realize this dream of 200 centers. We can help by making this book a best seller. The more people that know about a program that actually, truly enables people to lift themselves out of poverty and into self-respect, the better off we'll all be.

One thing about these short video clips: they're very inspirational and give you a great sense of Bill and his story. What they leave out are many of his examples about what actually goes on in these centers, which is wonderful stuff. You can get that info in the book.

You can also get it in the DVD of the entire presentation Bill gave us. The above-mentioned video clips are powerful, but the whole one-hour DVD experience is joy juice for a thirsty soul. You can order the DVD from the Message Company, which sponsors the just-finished Conference on Business and Consciousness. (Link below.)

Take a minute and check out Bill Strickland. Here are the links:

For short video clips of Bill and info about his book:
http://www.bill-strickland.org/seeBill

To order the DVD of the entire one-hour presentation (ready in a week
or so), write to them here:
message@bizspirit.com
or call 505-474-0998

I sincerely want to help this man break the cycle of poverty in America (and the world), and his programs work! Please feel free to forward this to friends who you know would appreciate it.
That's it for now. Thanks for reading.

Onward,
Greg
Transformational Humorist ~ Musical LAF-ologist
http://www.ComedyKeynoteConcerts.com

©2008 Greg Tamblyn

Friends, I know what you're thinking. "Greg, I'd like to inflict your music and writing on my friends and family for the holidays, but do you have volume discounts for your CDs and book?"

Friends, of course I do! Right here on my website, starting at 2 or more. And if you really want to stock up, just call or email the office
and tell me what quantity you're considering.
I promise I'll make you an offer you can't understand!
Er, refuse.

Here's the number: 816-756-0069
Here's the email: info@gregtamblyn.com
Here's the web page: http://www.gregtamblyn.com/cds.html

In the words of the late Kurt Vonnegut:
"Music was the only proof I ever needed of the existence of God."


HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Don't forget to take care of yourownself this season. It's "suspiciously healthy" to get some extra love and laughter in your life this month.
(And as you know, one of the best ways to get it is to give it.)
Of course, it's always good to do that, but what better time to start!

Be well, be silly,
Greg

Holiday greetings everybody!
I hope your Thanksgiving was full-filling -- in all the good ways. We had a fun dinner here at TuneTown with lots of family and some out of town guests to keep us fairly civilized.

Last week here in Kansas City I was sunbathing on warm, sunny Tuesday, then sweeping snow on freezing cold Wednesday. Seems like there's always one day every year when that happens, but it still amazes me.
Fall is lulling you into a cozy, Hobbit-like existence with all its comforting sights and smells, then Bang! The next day it's winter.

At the same time I've been doing doggie hospice for my mom's little 10 year old pooch, who's fading from lymphoma. I'm keeping him at my place and loving him up a little extra on his way out. Somebody asked why we just didn't put him to sleep, but as our vet told us, "Hey, as long as you're still walkin', talkin', peein', and poopin', you might as well be livin'!"
I quite agree.

Between the wild weather swings and watching this little pup's life ebb, I'm more in touch than usual with the mystery and wonder of existence, feeling very connected to life and nature.

Just like the weather can change on a whim, our moods and attitudes can also. If you could use a little "tone break" right now (or even if you don't need one), here are two short videos (one funny, one amazing) that will change your day. Guaranteed!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x3Rw_3ky-uo

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DpBm4KoWsrY

If parts of the mega-successful DVD/book "The Secret" have left you a bit perplexed, bemused, or even uncomfortable, check out "The Secret Antidote" by Thom Rutledge. Thom is a comedian, therapist, and author who thinks a lot of interesting thoughts about a lot of things. His take on "The Secret" is worth taking a look at.
http://thesecretantidote.com/
I also highly recommend his newsletter.

A great new PBS series is headed your way, if not already there. "Beyond Theology" is a thought-provoking series of 12 half-hour programs on the evolution of consciousness in this time of rapid change. It features interviews with Bishop John Shelby Spong, Sister Joan Chittister, Karen Armstrong (The Gospel of Thomas), and many others. Call your local PBS station and find out when it's scheduled, or request it if it's not. It also has one of the coolest websites around:
http://ktwu.washburn.edu/productions/BT/

Note: For Topeka residents, where it was produced and is already airing, the Dec. 18 episode contains my version of "Holy Now" at the end of the show. (For everybody else, this is episode #9)

You probably know that many apes have been taught sign language.
The most famous, Koko the gorilla, knows over 1,000 words. Koko
once signed "pain" to her trainers, and pointed to her mouth. Sure
enough, she had a bad tooth and needed a dental appointment.
A medical team was rushed in immediately.

(This leads me to wonder which health insurance plan she has,
and can I get on it?)

Anyway, the New York Times recently described an experiment where
two gorillas who knew how to sign were paired up to see if they would
have a conversation, and what they might talk about. Researchers
speculated they might gossip about other gorillas, their trainers, or food.

The gorillas began signing almost immediately. But the hoped for
conversation quickly devolved in to a "shouting" match with each
gorilla signing furiously and trying to dominate the conversation.
Apparently neither had any interest in actually listening to the other.

It turns out that one of the gorillas was a Rush Limbaugh fan, and
the other preferred Jon Stewart.

Just kidding!
I made a joke there because I was reluctant to share the truth:
both of the gorillas were male.

Surely more study is called for. Zoologists, don't leave us hanging --
please try this with two females!

The obvious point: some part of our animal nature may be hard-wired
for dominance, but the key to relationships is listening.

© 2007 Greg Tamblyn

If any of you are parents facing a divorce or separation, check out this new ebook titled, "How Do I Tell the Kids about the Divorce? A Create-a-Storybook™ Guide to Preparing Your Children -- with Love!"

It's written by a friend of mine, Rosalind Sedacca, CCT, based on her own personal experience. Rosalind's book is unique in that it doesn't just tell divorcing parents what to say -- it says it for them! Rosalind helps parents make an attractive personal family storybook, in a photo-album-type format, that children will want to read. It simplifies one of the toughest conversations any parent is likely to have.

The book helps children understand that change, while often frightening, is a natural part of life. Six professional therapists add their expertise to the book, offering advice and insight taken from their experience in private practice. The downloadable ebook is available, along with four valuable bonuses, at
http://www.childcentereddivorce.com.

Brian Luke Seaward's classic "Stand Like Mountain, Flow Like Water: Reflections on Stress and Human Spirituality" has been reissued in a beautiful 10-year anniversary edition. Luke has updated it with a wealth of new information, and it's one of those rare books full of wisdom that you'll turn to often and keep for life. It's been endorsed by the likes of Deepak Chopra, Joan Lunden, Naomi Judd, and Larry Dossey.

Luke is a prolific author, speaker, workshop leader, photographer, and has also produced many beautiful audio and video pieces. Check them all out on his website:
http://www.brianlukeseaward.net

Every once in awhile. calling Customer Service is actually fun, but maybe not for the reason you hoped.

For accepting Visa and Mastercard to sell my CDs, I'm charged a percentage of sales, plus authorization fees, transaction fees, statement fees, batch fees, and some other fees I think they copied from the electric bill. Once a month I get a statement in the mail (from some place called First Data, on behalf of Citibank) which was obviously designed by evil trolls in Albania, who have at best a passing aquaintance with math and English. To say it's complicated and confusing is like saying a Great White Shark bite is inconvenient. Multiply your phone bill by two or three times, and you get the idea.

For example, it says "Grand Total" in three places, and they're all different numbers. Additionally, all the above mentioned fees vary, depending on the credit card's type, its status, and the cardholder's opinion of the current soybean crop.

One day, having had a good night's sleep and feeling especially buoyant, I decided to call merchant services for a statement decipherization. The first person I talked to, Emmanuel, tried for 20 minutes, bless his foreign soul, but couldn't explain it. I asked for his supervisor and Claudia got on the phone. After several attempts she was able to make it make sense to me, in the way that String Theory makes sense to a weaver.

Feeling proud of myself for maintaining my composure and reasonably good mood, I generously suggested that it might be helpful and appreciated to make the statements more easily understandable to us average college graduates who are not CPAs. Her response, and I swear this is true, was: "Well, if we made it easier to understand, they might not need us in customer service and some people would lose their jobs."

That was the best laugh I had all day. I told her not to worry about losing her job. There will always be a place for her in the federal government.

Postscript:
(In all fairness, I need to add that a few hours later Claudia's supervisor called me and apologized, letting me know that they'd had many complaints about the statements and were planning to simplify them. Unfortunately she had no idea when that might actually happen. I could tell from her tone that she was genuinely sorry, and it was obvious she was truly tired of having to deal with these calls about their Rubik's Cube-esque statements.)

© 2007 Greg Tamblyn

My friend, clown doctor, organizational physician, hilarious speaker, and author of one of my favorite books, "Why Normal Isn't Healthy," is writing a great new blog. He covers all kinds of subjects in his own unique brand of wisdom and wacky insight. Check it out here:
http://www.bowenwhite.com

Here's a fascinating exercise: take an internationally renowned, grammy-award-winning concert violinist, have him play anonymously for an hour on the street outside a Washington subway stop, and see what happens.

This is what classical icon Joshua Bell did in an experiment on perception and public taste conducted by The Washington Post. He wore jeans, a t-shirt, and a baseball cap. He played six classical pieces on a three hundred year old Stradivarius worth $3.5 million, hoping to get the attention of passersby.

Joshua Bell normally plays 120 shows per year in packed concert halls full of people who have paid $100 per ticket to be spellbound by his virtuosity. How much did he collect in that hour on the street?

$32.17

Out of 1,097 people who passed by, how many people recognized him?

One.

He said it felt strange being ignored, and he was nervous. He developed a new respect for street musicians, and says he'll pay more attention to them in the future. (He doesn't, however, want to repeat the experience.)

This reminds me of watching Stephen Stills (of Crosby, Stills, and Nash; Buffalo Springfield; and a major solo artist in his own right) perform in a local drinking establishment, also known as a "bar." It was a political get-out-the-vote event a few years ago, put together by local and state candidates in Kansas City. Delighted that I could hear this mega-star for free in a relatively intimate setting, I arrived early and claimed a stool at a tall table about 15 feet from the stage.

After the candidates came out and gave their rah-rahs, Stills emerged and did six or seven of his hits, just him and a guitar, mixing in a few political comments. As he played, I looked around in astonishment to see about two thirds of the people chatting, drinking, and basically ignoring this huge rock star.

Right then I really got it: you put people in a bar, they behave like they're in a bar! Similarly, you put a virtuoso musician on the street, and he'll be perceived by most people as not worth stopping to listen to. Environment and context are everything. Or as Bobby Darin (Kevin Spacey) put it so paradoxically in the movie Beyond The Sea, "People hear what they see."

Analogous to this is that if you see my new book at the front table in Borders, you might be more impressed and likely to buy it than if you heard about it from me in an email. But it's the same book. Here's what Larry Dossey said about it:

"In Atilla The Gate Agent, Greg Tamblyn strips away the seriousness of life and exposes the humorous side we often miss. Tamblyn is a contemporary Mark Twain, who once remarked, 'I have known a great many troubles in my life, most of which never happened.' Buy ten copies of Atilla The Gate Agent - one for you and nine for your friends. You'll make the world a better place."
(Larry Dossey, MD, author:
The Extraordinary Healing Power Of Ordinary Things)

Friends, I know what you're thinking: "Greg, this is a sneaky way to let us know your new book is in print!" Maybe so, but I wanted to give you a little something extra to think about, rather than hit you over the head with the usual shameless self promotion. Most of the time in life it's illuminating -- and worth the effort -- to see through the context and the setting (in some cases, the hype) and get what's really there. I hope you're moved to think about it next time you see an artist in a humble setting.

If you've made it this far in the article, there's a good chance you'll enjoy my book. It's a collection of funnybone-tweaking, mind-opening, heart-expanding stories about stimulating people and experiences, mostly from the road.

And if you order it from my website, you receive two free song downloads. Here's the link to check it out:
http://gregtamblyn.com/book.html

Thanks for your continued listening and reading.
It keeps me off the street!

Injoy,
Greg

"I love being a writer. What I can't stand is the paperwork."
- Peter DeVries

© 2007 Greg Tamblyn

For comedy you can't beat nature.

Recently, sitting at my computer, I was jolted by a sound outside my
window I'd never heard on this planet. It was like a cat in heat had
swallowed a loud chirping cricket, and the combined cacophony was
coming out of the same creature. It was eerie, bizarre, ungodly, and
obviously some form of life I'd never encountered. Maybe aliens! I
popped out the front door, heard it again over my head, and looked
up.

There, 30 feet high in an almost-dead pine tree, sat a large barred
owl and a slightly smaller one together on a branch. Just then the
smaller one erupted, making that unholy sound again. It was
absolutely nothing you'd ever associate with an owl, and was the
approximate volume of the front row at a Led Zeppelin concert.

The larger owl dove straight down into our garden, ostensibly to
escape the racket. But two or three minutes later it came soaring
back up, settled on the branch, and deposited something into the
mouth of the smaller one. Ah, lunch time.

Satisfaction was only momentary. Without warning, the smaller owl
exploded again, screech-chirping, "More!" The same same scenario
ensued: large owl disappeared and returned with some tasty rodent or
close relative. I grabbed my binocs, but couldn't identify the
special of the day.

I was, however, reminded that barred owls definitely belong in the
Odd Looking Creatures Pavilion at Six Flags Over Earth. Head on,
they're a combination of Darth Vader and the Madonna. (The religious
one, not the singer.) In fact, they actually do look a lot like
aliens. Huge dark eyes, yellowish spot of beak in a mottled brown
face, with a kind of cowl over their head.

The adolescent owl looked a lot like its parent, but the adults fly
around our yard making that beautiful owl hoot. The teenager kept up
this boisterous clamor that I never in my right mind would think
could come out of an owl. It occurred to me this was either demonic
possession or puberty (the same thing?), and the poor kid's voice was
changing. I wondered if teenage owls get embarrassed like young boys.

One reason I'm reflecting on this now is Richard Helm and I have
finished a new song called "Analog Brain In A Digital World."
Computers and all our other new gadgets are an inescapable fact of
life. They're frequently helpful, often frustrating, and never quite
as much fun as watching owls. Jumping up from my desk and running
outside on a spring day to watch them put on a show feels like school
recess when I was a kid. Maybe even better.

© 2007 Greg Tamblyn

For all you Carl Sagan fans, here's a new website -- Celebrating Sagan -- honoring the 10th anniversary of his passing. Many video clips, audio clips, rememberances, all very well done. Definitely worth a few minutes of your time:
http://celebratingsagan.blogspot.com/

(They've included my song, "When Carl Sagan Died," as well as the lyrics.)

Thanks, Carl, for all the inspiration!

Greg Tamblyn TuneTown E-News #34 Fall, 2006

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In this issue:

BUDDHIST SOUP-NAZI
FINDING UTOPIA
CD PRICES, NEW SONGS


BUDDHIST SOUP-NAZI

Years ago I waited tables at a Nashville health food restaurant that
didn't serve meat, but did serve alcohol. Meaning, you couldn't get a
hamburger, but you could get hammered. I always wondered,
"How healthy is that?"

Then of course there was the constant question of what wine to serve
with tofu.

"Excuse me, waiter, what vintage do you recommend with this white,
slimy, fermented bean curd?"

"Well, the tofu is very yin, so I suggest something very yang, like
Chateauneuf de Coca-Cola."

But the best part about the place was the Korean owner, Hae-Yung. She
had never been trained in the restaurant business, so she just made
everything up as she went along. She had one of those charismatic,
forceful personalities that gets things done by being impossible to
ignore. This resulted in some episodes one doesn't normally see in
your average restaurant. For example, if someone sent their food back
once too often and Hae-Yung thought they were being too picky, she
used a combination of interrogation and counseling.

"Why you send your food back so often? You not happy person?
Maybe you should go home and think about it.
Come back when you are happy."

We all loved it. This is the kind of important feedback waiters
always want to give problem customers, but rarely can without getting
fired. Hae-Yung would do it for us though, so it was almost as good.
She was the Buddhist Soup-Nazi: direct, but more compassionate.

Hae-Yung showed me that creativity and determination can often
overcome inexperience. She would rather try something new, make a
mistake and correct it, than do nothing for fear of failure. She made
sure we felt appreciated and part of a family, and as a result, most
of us felt like coming to work. She gave us a lot of rope, expected
us to be honest and perform to her expectations, and most of us
exceeded them.

I think about her whenever I think about immigration reform. Whatever
we decide as a country, I hope we keep letting in people like Hae-Yung
who, by virtue of their personalities and perseverance, make us a
richer, more diverse, more resilient, more interesting population.

© 2006 Greg Tamblyn

FINDING UTOPIA

The coolest children's book I've seen since childhood is "Finding
Utopia" by Paul Sutherland and Tim Gibbons. It's an outrageously
creative, entertaining, and colorful journey of three kids and two
parents to the Australian outback. The book is packed with stuff for
kids to find and fascinating tidbits for parents to learn. It's
beautifully illustrated, highly literate, and something you'll be
proud to own. Highest recommendation! Here's more:
http://www.utopiapress.com/

By the way, Paul Sutherland is a verrrrry successful investment guru
and conscious person. His previous excellent book is "Zenvesting." He
founded Utopia Mutual Funds last year so that people like me (and you)
could have access to the same expertise that very wealthy people pay
him for: http://www.utopiafunds.com

CD PRICES, NEW SONGS

If you want to take care of a large number of gifts in one fell
swoop, call the office and we'll see what kind of special deal we can
cook up for you: 816-756-0069

In case you missed it last time, I have an alternate site for new and
unreleased songs, not yet on CD. You can listen to the songs for free
(even see a couple on video), and download them for a dollar.
http://www.broadjam.com/gregtamblyn

I´m in a window seat on a flight to Florida. I´m barely functional because of world-class, Olympic Gold Medal jet lag from an Australia trip two days before. I can barely think, I´m so tired. All I want from life at this moment is to sleep. All I want is to close my eyes and wake up in Florida. I feel like stale, leftover toast.

Behind me, however, there´s a toddler practicing Flamenco dance steps on the back of my seat. There´s also a lot of toddler noise coming from the same general area. I can deal with the noise, I have some good headphones. But the kicking, man, there´s no way to sleep through that. So I look back between the seats and see it´s a little girl behind me, maybe three years old. Her dad, in the middle seat, catches my eye, and I see him motion her feet down with his arm.

This works for approximately the attention span of a toddler, and a few seconds later she´s dancing all over my rear end again. I wait awhile, look between the seats once more, a little longer this time. I can see the dad has a little boy on his lap, and the boy is the source of the noise. The little boy is really letting loose, too. A lot of incomprehensible moaning and gutteral noise. At times he´s flat-out wailing. It´s like he just got this new voice box and is testing it for volume, tone, range, and vowel sounds. Dad sees me again, I see his arm move toward his daughter. There´s another ten second pause and the kicking resumes. I need to sleep so badly, but this kicking is relentless.

My patience is short. I´m functioning at one level above zombie. I start thinking, "If they´re too young to travel, why don´t you leave them home? I paid for my ticket; I deserve to fly in relative peace. Could we tie her shoelaces to the armrest? Does anybody here have some St. Joseph´s Ambien For Children?"

Finally, I unhook my seat belt, rise, and turn so I can actually speak to the father. I look back over the seat at him, he looks up at me. I notice he´s a nice looking young man, maybe late 20s. I start to tell him I can´t sleep with all this kicking. But before I can finish the sentence, he mouths the words, "I´m deaf."

My mouth closes. My words drift away. I nod at him that I understand. I look at his wife in the aisle seat. She smiles and nods, "We´re deaf." I look back at the little boy on his lap, because he´s obviously older than his sister. Why would he be the one on the lap and not the little girl? Then it´s obvious. The little boy is mentally handicapped. That´s why he can´t control his voice. And guess what: his parents can´t even hear it.

All this flashes through my mind in about five seconds.

So I nod, and sit back down. I start thinking about this family. Two deaf parents with two toddlers, one of whom is mentally challenged. I think about all the people I know with young kids, and how much energy it takes to raise them. I think about the people I know who have handicapped kids, kids with autism or cyctic fibrosis. I think about how hard that is, how the parents never get any rest.

And then I try to imagine how much harder it would be if they were deaf.

Then I think about this little girl. This little blonde girl kicking my seat. She has two deaf parents, and an older brother who´s mentally handicapped.

Her life is going to be challenging, to say the least.

Suddenly all these kicks don´t seem like such a big deal. Now they start to feel like little cries for attention. I decide to think of them as love taps.

I can sleep later.

© 2006 Greg Tamblyn

Here's one reason I love Australians. In the late 1960s, the prime minister, Harold Holt, sadly drowned while swimming by himself off Australia's dangerous south coast. So to memorialize him, what did they name after him? A swimming pool complex.

True.

Today we saw crocodiles on the river in the Daintree rainforest. We encountered several, the largest being a five meter monster they fondly call Fat Albert. Then we saw his territorial rival, a 4.5 meter bad boy named Scarface. Evidently the two have been fighting it out lately for control of the river--and of course the girl crocs. According to our trustworthy guide, who claims to have witnessed these fights, the smaller Scarface has given Albert all he wants and then some. The guide told us that crocs fight by swimming alongside each other and then smashing their heads together (sometimes for days), knocking a bunch of teeth out. Not a huge deal, I guess, since they grow new teeth all the time, but jeez, it's got to hurt. When we saw them, they were a few hundred yards apart, resting on separate banks of the river. Maybe it's a truce.

Interestingly, male kangaroos fight each other by balancing on their tails and kicking the you-know-what out of each others' midsections with their powerful back legs and giant feet. We were told it can do a lot of internal damage to the kangaroo organs. Really? What a shock! When you've witnessed these kicks, the surprise is that either of them survives it at all, let alone a kangaroo spleen.

I couldn't help but reflect that humans, when they fight, have proven their evolutionary superiority by bashing each other in both the teeth AND the midsection. And by keeping it to a civilized fifteen rounds.

Anyway, back to crocodilians. Did you know that an Australian saltwater crocodile can bite with the pressure of 3,500 pounds per square inch? To put this in perspective, the strongest land animal bite is from the hyena. It bites with a force of 1,000 lbs per square inch. To further put this in perspective, it's estimated that the Tyrannosaurus Rex bit with a force of 3,000 lbs per square inch. In other words, less than the crocodile. (Our guide admitted his source for this information was a show on the National Geographic Channel two weeks ago.) I guess that explains why, when these prehistoric relics attack humans, as they occasionally do over here, like when someone is foolish (or drunk) enough to go wading in the river, or clean their fish near the boat ramp, there are no survivors. One minute they're there, the next, gone.

Anyway, it was amazing to see them, and I was glad I was in a large metal boat.

Yesterday we snorkeled and scuba dived (scuba dove?) on the Great Barrier Reef. It was fun if you like hypothermia. I did see several cool fish and the largest lobster I've ever personally witnessed, and it was extremely neat to finally be on the actual, real Great Barrier Reef. But for my money, the diving is better in the Caribbean. Fewer sharks, too. Of course, I might have liked it better on a warm day.

It was great to finish up this tour with a few days on the coast and in the rainforests, after 9 days in the desert Outback. My skin feels like skin again, not some kind of hide. I don't think I've spent this much time in nature and away from every-day civilization since puberty, and it was sorely needed and appreciated by my own personal soul and psyche. I loved the whole thing: the ancient desert, the strange animals, the mysterious aboriginals, the laid-back Aussies, and the sheer enormity of the place.

I can't wait to come back.

© 2006 Greg Tamblyn

We're on a day trip from the town of Alice Springs to Santa Teresa, a small aboriginal community. We've just encountered a "road train," which is the local name for three semis hitched together. It does look like a small train, and as it swings by us the wind blast feels like a small explosion. Out here in this endless Northern Territory desert there are no freeways, only two-lane highways. There are almost no speed limits and no restrictions on how many hours a driver can be at the wheel. In consideration of all these factors, I've decided to put on my seat belt.

Now we've turned off the highway on to a dirt road. The good news is there's no more danger from speeding, hulking road trains. The bad news is we've got 80 km of this very bumpy dirt track to cover. The good news is we have a fascinating video of kangaroos to watch. The bad news is one of the kangaroo joeys (pups) gets eaten by a dingo. Nature is so cruel.

Just when you think things can't get any more interesting, something else happens. Arriving in Santa Teresa, we meet an impressive aboriginal woman named Agnes who runs a spiritual center. It's in the same building where she attended school as a little girl, learning English and other subjects from the nuns. She shows us a few of her paintings, speaking beautifully, interpreting their spiritual meanings for us.

Santa Teresa is a humble place, reminding me more than anything of some American Indian reservations. The streets are dirt, and the homes are small and simple. After seeing many inebriated aboriginals in Alice Springs, I confess I wasn't prepared for a woman with the depth and dignity of Agnes here in tiny Santa Teresa. I was further caught off guard when Agnes told us some of her life journey and her own struggle with alcoholism. With her commanding presence she related how, while living in Alice, all the pressures of life built to a point that she hit bottom and started drinking. She told us there was a voice in her head urging her to throw herself under a truck or a bus and kill herself. The voice said she would be happier if she did that. Her husband was alcoholic too, and she felt hopeless in those days. The voice in her head was persuasive and lasted a long time.

But somehow she resisted it, and one day her sister suggested she write down all her negative thoughts and sins on a piece of paper and put it in the God bottle. So she did. For a long time she was afraid someone would read the piece of paper and discover her shame.

Some time later she was standing by the stove, and felt a sweet breeze on her cheek. She heard a new voice telling her to burn the paper in the God bottle. As soon as this was done she felt an immediate cleansing. Her grief and hopelessness were washed away, replaced by an overpowering sense of love. The voice in her head telling her to kill herself was gone. She became involved with Alcoholics Anonymous.

Occasionally there was still some pain in her body. She decided this must be the pain of Jesus, and she needed to help others as Jesus did. So she came back here to her village and started her center, where she gives assistance to families grappling with alcoholism. She also helps people individually, using the aboriginal practice of "smoking." This is like smudging in native North America. She burns a local grass to make the smoke and pass it over the body. As she does this, she feels the person's hands to sense where the spirit is out of kilter, and tries to correct that for them.

Even more impressively, if that's possible, she has been instrumental in one of the most beautiful art projects I have ever seen. Inside the small Catholic church in Santa Teresa are stunning murals depicting a convergence of both aboriginal and Christian stories. These include the creation stories, and several of the Jesus stories told with aboriginal characters in local settings. It's hard to overstate the beauty of these paintings.

Agnes explained some of these aboriginal stories for us: how the world was created, how the crow and the mynah got their distinctive colors and voices, and how the lizards got their markings. These stories are vividly depicted on the walls, along with many others, like the birth and baptism of Jesus in aboriginal settings. The synthesis of these stories from different cultures and the unexpected beauty of the artwork led me to a profound sense of reverence and hope. Hope for these people, so forgotten for so long, and hope for the next generation of their children. At least the ones in Santa Teresa.

All by themselves, Agnes and this church art were worth our entire trip to the Outback.

© 2006 Greg Tamblyn

Friday, after 4 days in the Outback. We saw our first kangaroo, and ate one as well. Along with emu sausages, crocodile chunks, and barramundi. Skipped the wichitty grubs (you dig them up from under trees) and honey ants. But it's still early in the tour.

We've spent several days hanging out with and learning about the aboriginals. We've learned how to do dot painting, spear throwing, seed grinding, and glue making. We've soaked up many of their myths and legends, which they consider history, not myth. We've visited some of their sacred sites--huge rocks, basically, that you can't stop gawking at. It's amazing how enamored you become with this place. It's just so enormous and dry and ancient. Everyone in our group seems to feel this way. You become connected to the land in a way you weren't expecting. There are so many incredible things about this country that we on the other side of the planet simply don't know about. The people continue to be engaging, open, friendly, helpful--both the whites and aboriginals we've been with in these parks, although the aboriginals are pretty shy.

I saw the southern cross last night--gorgeous. Then I went back outside at 6 AM and Orion was upside down. That was weird. Also, I finally realized the reason I was having trouble staying oriented in the daytime is that the sun is in the northern sky, not the southern. So when you're driving and the sun is low on the left, you're going east, not west. It also took a few days to remember that it's winter here (even though it feels like spring or fall), and the days are shorter than the nights.

Now we're on the highway to Alice Springs, and a topless aboriginal woman just tried to throw herself under our bus. I'm not kidding. This was really strange. She was lying on the highway waiting to get run over. Fortunately we could see her from a distance, and our driver was able to slow down and avoid her. So she got up and tried to run under the bus. There was a man trying to prevent her from doing this, but she was pretty determined, and we just barely missed her. Now our driver is giving us a talk on alcoholism among the aboriginals. Evidently they have no tolerance for alcohol, and evidently in many areas there is little or no employment opportunity for them. In some places I guess it's pretty grim. I've heard Alice is one of those places. I guess we'll see for ourselves.

More soon,
greg

© 2006 Greg Tamblyn

I'm on the plane from Sydney to Ayers Rock (Uluru) in the Outback. I'm exhausted because the lovely local coordinator in charge of this adventure booked me into a room last night with one of the other leaders, a nice guy who unfortunately snores at a volume approximating a lawnmower in a closet. Needless to say I'm less than tickled, but it's our first day with the group so I'm resorting to intravenous caffeine.

We spent last evening in Sydney. Beautiful place. Kinda reminds me of Seattle. Lots to walk around and see there at the harbor, which was all I had time to explore besides the inside of our hotel room, with the jet engine sound effects from the next bed. Did I mention I didn't get any sleep?

Anyway, Sydney is lovely and I'm looking forward to a couple of days there after I get back. Melbourne was also charming, although I had three concerts there and was more concerned with getting over jet lag and regaining some energy than with seeing the sights. But we did get out a bit and tour the city. Beautiful downtown, with a river walk area that is extremely well done, not kitschy at all. Great food courts with wonderful meals and real, actual plates and flatware. Not paper or plastic or styrofoam like we would have. Nice art galleries with interesting aboriginal stuff, and lots of pubs. Some beautiful architecture.

Winter in Melbourne and Sydney is mild. Temps in the 50s and mostly sunny. Good for walking around. The main thing about Australia is how friendly everybody is. They just love to talk to you, kind of like Ireland. In fact, a lot of them claim to be descended from the Irish. Even the shop clerks and restaurant people are chatty and friendly, interested in where you're from and what you think. They like to get a little closer to talk than we do, though. About six inches or a foot closer sometimes, so it feels a bit weird. You definitely know what they had for breakfast, or if they brushed. Even so, they're lively and funny, and seem to love earthy humor. My fart song was especially popular.

Now we're flying into the middle of what appears to be an absolutely desolate continent. I've been looking out the window for two hours and seeing nothing but this barren red desert moonscape. Or maybe Marscape, since it's so red. It's like when you fly over Utah or Nevada and the ground looks barren for maybe half an hour, except that this goes on and on forever. There's just nothing down there. I can't even see any roads. Or water. And it goes on for as far as I can see from the plane. Should be fun.

We have 4 days near Uluru, then 4 days in Alice Springs, then 4 days in Cairns. Cairns is where we get to scuba on the Great Barrier Reef, and see the rainforest with all those exotic species that were supposed to have died out a few million years ago. I'm also hoping to get a look at the huge crocs that are so famous for jumping up out of nowhere and eating people.

If you want to get an enjoyable, overall idea of this place, I suggest Bill Bryson's book, "In A Sunburned Country," which is very well done. Amusing and informative. I like it a lot. It also seems to have been reissued as "Down Under."

That's it for now. They're coming around with the food cart. Platypus steaks and koala smoothies.

Have fun without me,
greg

© 2006 Greg Tamblyn

(Please read both postscripts for the full effect of this story.)

Ever had a brilliant gift idea that turned out to be the most embarrassing and humiliating thing you could have brought to the party?

At a conference on consciousness we were told to bring a small, wrapped present to exchange as a means of getting to know each other. The gift was supposed to be related to something significant in our lives. After wracking my brains for awhile, and looking around the house, I found the perfect thing: a lighter I had brought back from China. It was a souvenir from the first time I ever hosted a group tour, which has become a yearly event since then.

Ah, but this was no ordinary lighter. It was a solid lighter with some heft to it, covered in bright red enamel. On one side, the imposing face of Chairman Mao stares out at you, totally out of context on this goofy trinket. Sort of like Abraham Lincoln on a box of Wheaties. But the kicker is that when you open the top, it plays a silly (and quite frankly annoying) Chinese marching song, which squeals on and on -- lit or not -- until you close it. Or until the battery runs out, should you leave it open for a few days as a sort of Chinese torture for the unlucky people you live with. In short, it's pretty funny. And it kind of reduces Mao to the status of a cartoon, which I like.

I've given a few of these away to friends, and everybody gets a kick out of them. My brother likes to walk down the grocery store aisle with his lighter held aloft, music blaring and people staring. I think he does it to embarrass his daughter. But I digress...

So I felt quite proud of myself for bringing this funny, clever gift that I knew everyone at the conference would find amusing. That first night, all 120 of us were sorted into small circles of eight, and instructed to put our presents in the middle. One by one we took turns choosing a gift that someone else had brought, and then we took turns unwrapping them. When someone opened the gift you brought, you explained what it meant to you, and so we'd get to know a bit about each other.

But what happened in our little circle was a kind of cosmic joke.

Imagine: out of all the 120 people at this event, the one person who ended up with my little wrapped package containing this incredibly funny, brilliantly clever, totally unique Chairman Mao lighter, just happened to be the childhood/ lifelong friend, as well as the official biographer of.........the Dalai Lama.

I'm not kidding.

He was seated just to my left. I didn't know there would be a Tibetan at this conference. I didn't know there would be a man who, as I later found out, actually fought Chinese soldiers and was forced to flee into exile as they took over and brutalized his country.

As soon as I saw him pick up the little package, I felt myself shrink about five sizes. What I really wanted was to disappear altogether. If humiliation was a color, I would have been a bright orange smoke bomb, just fizzing away into nothing.

All the time we were going around the circle opening presents, I was sitting there, completely freaked out at the fact that I'd brought the most insulting gift I possibly could have, and it was going to be unbearably awkward when this gentle, elderly, dignified, much-loved man opened it. Unbelievably embarrassing. Life-shattering buckets of shame. For once in my life, I'd been just a little too clever, and my sick sense of humor had come back to haunt me. How could I possibly explain this to him? What could I say? Especially when all the other gifts were so thoughtful and beautiful. What would he say? What would he do?

When it got to be my turn, I suggested we switch presents.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because I don't think you'll like it. I want you to have something you'll like."

"No," he said. "I chose this one."

Slowly and calmly, he unwrapped the lighter. He turned it over, and for a minute just looked at the picture of Mao. I can't remember if he opened the top and played the little song.

After what seemed like forever, during which time I would have gladly traded my whole life to be somewhere else, he spoke.

"Oh," he said firmly. "This is karma."

He looked at me with steady, sincere eyes and said,
"This will help me remember to practice compassion."


POSTSCRIPT #1

The next morning, I was relating this episode to one of the conference organizers, and she insisted I tell the entire gathering about it. So I got up in front of the group and told this story. When I mentioned who got the lighter, everybody gasped. And then when I told them what Kuno (his nickname) had said, Kuno stood up, smiled and bowed low, and everybody laughed. And right then we all got it that he was really okay about it.

During the week of this conference, every time I saw Kuno he would shake my hand and thank me for the lighter. So by the end of the week, we had kind of become buddies. On the last morning, he sat next to me at lunch. We talked about Dharmsala, where the Tibetan refugees live with the Dalai Lama, and about life in India. I told him I'd always wanted to go there, and about hosting my group tours. Kuno picked up on this immediately. He invited me to Dharmsala, and said he had friends who would handle all the travel arrangements for us. We could even do some kind of a concert with myself and some Tibetan musicians. He was really into the whole idea, and I got all excited at the prospect too.

It's amazing how things work out sometimes.


POSTSCRIPT #2

(A letter from a friend at the conference, reporting how Kuno described this experience.)

"Dear Greg,

I love that you tell the story about your lighter, but you must tell more of the story. The way you ended it made it sound like he was being polite--but it was MUCH more than that. It was huge, and wonderful.

You should have heard Kuno's talk at the International House after the Conference. He began to talk about his history and connection with the Dalai Lama, and he briefly mentioned his important role as a general in the war. He spoke about how the Chinese killed his parents, family members, and so many of his friends. He talked about his anger at the Chinese--so much anger. He talked about how the Dalai Lama told him many times, he needed to make peace with the Chinese, to not hate them, to have love in his heart, compassion, forgiveness. He saw no way to do this, it was impossible, he hated them all to such an extent that he wouldn't even eat Chinese food. The Dalai Lama would laugh at this and tell him that Chinese food is very good and his anger is making him miss out on some very good things.

Well, before the conference Kuno was visiting a site of one of the bloody battles between China and Tibet where he lost many friends. He was at the memorial, trying to make peace, but only feeling anger, pain and sadness. He began to cry. A couple was there, crying also. They and Kuno started talking about their losses, and began bonding. After a while they decided to go to a place for some food and to talk more. During the meal each asked where the other was from, and it turned out that the couple were Chinese! He had thought they were on his side, not theirs. Karma again. They continued their meal together with new understanding. This expereince totally changed his perspective.

He wanted to continue healing so he then started trying to get to know Chinese people. He tried Chineese food and liked it. When the conference organizer invited Kuno to be with us, he also wanted to set up some lectures for Kuno in the area and offered to let him stay at his house. Kuno told him that he would like to do the lectures, but he wanted to stay with a Chinese family, if possible. The organizer said that would be very easy to organize since his foreign-exchange student host falmily lived nearby, and they just happen to be Chinese! (Coincidence? I think not.) Kuno stayed with the Chinese family before and after the conference and had a wonderful time in their home.

After a couple of days with them, he came to our conference and received your lighter. At this point in his lecture, he held up your lighter, lit it, and played the little song. He told the story of getting the lighter at the conference, of all the groups he could have been with, of all the wrapped gifts he could have picked, he picked you and yours.

It was a gift, supporting his new path to healing. At the time you picked the gift, you didn't know about his new found attempts at healing this pain in his heart, but you helped the process and supported his new path.

I bet the Dalai Lama had a big belly laugh when Kuno told the full story to him.

It's a full circle thing.

If I were you, I'd be honored to be part of that healing circle.

And the lesson for you? Trust your instincts. There is a reason for everything. There's probably even a reason you were put in that situation so you could fidget and feel such nervousness--but only you know the answer to that.

Love,
Alison Sheafor-Joy"

© 2006 Greg Tamblyn

Hi Everybody,

I hope you're fully immersed in Random Acts of Kindness Week.
Remember, you don't have to stop when the week is over!

In this issue:

SURPRISE--MODERN MEDICINE!
NEW RECOVERY MUSIC WEBSITE
ATTENTION: BOOMERS AND YOUNG SENIORS...


SURPRISE--MODERN MEDICINE!

One morning last fall, after sleeping off a particularly spicy meal, I noticed a sharp pain in my lower gut. Assuming this was connected to the chili pepper orgy of the previous evening, I didn't think much about it. But the pain hung around for days, like a bad odor in a closed room. (How's that for a bad simile?) A few weeks later the pain was still camping out down there, and strangely, it seemed to get worse after coffee, spicy food, pineapple, or tomatoes.

So I finally gave in and saw my doctor. I asked if there some kind of test we could do. She said probably a CT scan would be best.

Since my health policy has a $5,000 deductible--your basic catastrophic insurance--and since my gut didn't feel this was going to be catastrophic, I told my doctor I wanted to pay for the scan myself.

After calling several places, I found one in a very upscale suburb. Their rate was actually near the lower end of the cat scan price scale, and they could even schedule me the same day. So I relayed this to my doctor and she called them. She spoke to someone she assumed was a radiologist about the right test to do, and set it all up for late afternoon.

At 4 PM I zipped right in (no waiting!) and the guy did the scan in about 15 minutes. Very friendly, very professional.

Back at the counter, I asked if I could get my report the next day in order to make some travel decisions for work. The girl said no, and I asked why. She hemmed and hawed but I persisted. Eventually she coughed it up: "Because it usually takes 48 hours to get the report back from India."

"India?"

"Yes."

"Did you say India?"

"Yes."

"You're outsourcing my cat scan to India?"

"Yes."

"I thought your radiologist was right here."

"No, in India. We have several. We don't actually know who they are, but we're sure they're all qualified."

"You're sending my cat scan to an unknown doctor in India?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me that up front?"

"Because you didn't ask."

Needless to say, I was a wee bit cranky at this blatant lack of disclosure, and I let them know it. The management-type person I raised hell with said he didn't actually know for sure where the cat scan was being sent. It could be any country in the world. But he was sure they were all qualified.

Now lest you think I'm biased against India or their doctors, it's not about that. I'm sure there are many fine qualified physicians in India, and in the Philippines or Mongolia or whatever other countries this place is using. But if I'm paying hundreds of dollars for a procedure that's affecting the health of my own personal body, I'd kind of like to know who's analyzing the work. I'd kind of like to be able to actually talk to that person if I have something so radical as a question.

In spite of feeling duped, however, I couldn't help but notice the irony of it all. This whole episode, culminating with my outsourced Indian cat scan, began the morning after a very spicy meal in a Pakistani restaurant. Their mutual animosity was continuing in my gut.

Fortunately, Dr. Mamesh Shah of somewhere in India reports that as far as he can tell, my gut is fine.

And happily, the pain has now left. But even so, I'm getting a second opinion from my former college roommate. He's a urologist from Jamaica.

© 2006 Greg Tamblyn


NEW RECOVERY MUSIC WEBSITE

Here's a cool new website: Sunlight of the Spirit Music features CDs created by artists in recovery, with the largest selection of twelve step and recovery music available for dealing with alcoholism and addiction in all its forms. A couple of my CDs are available there, and many others by artists you may or may not know, but will enjoy.

They also wholesale CDs to recovery and spiritual bookstores all over the world, so if you're aware of any stores in your area, please let me know and I'll pass the info along. Check it out here:
http://www.sunlightofthespiritmusic.com/index.htm

And here's a link to a great article for in-depth info:
http://www.mkbmedia.com/blogs/news


ATTENTION: BOOMERS AND YOUNG SENIORS...

Check out http://www.50plusmag.com. This is a fun, engaging site for the above mentioned age group, although there are items of interest here for almost everybody. Subjects include travel, humor, sex, health, retirement, grandparenting, puzzles, and lots more. Editor Gary Geyer was a highly paid advertising creative director who left that world to start his online "zine." I always find something fresh and stimulating here to digest and/or entertain. (And I'm not easily entertained!)

Yesterday at Unity of Vancouver (Washington) I was the guest speaker and musician in the morning service. It took maybe five seconds between the time I was introduced to step to the stage and put on my guitar. I turned around to the microphone to say good morning and sing this sweet, reverent, spiritual number I'd prepared. I looked up, and in those few seconds the entire congregation had put on large fake black mustaches.

Now that's my kind of church.

© 2005 Greg Tamblyn

TuneTown E-News #30
www.gregtamblyn.com
(Note: To read previous NEWS entries, just scroll down until you get there...)


BOG SNORKELLING IN IRELAND

You know you've had a great trip when you stumble onto something so weird and different, so out of your conceptual comfort zone that it sticks in your mind like dog hair on a wool suit. And when it involves two words you never in your most inspired or inebriated moments dreamed would ever go together, it's even better.

For me, in Ireland, it was Bog Snorkelling.

The first time I heard it, I was hooked, without even knowing what it was. (And besides, it's a fabulous name for a rock band.) It conjured up images so wild and dark, I could barely contain my glee. What could they be talking about? Actually snorkeling in a bog? I had to find out more.

We had just climbed up and down 670 ancient stone steps without any handrails in a driving rain and blustery winds on a steep, rocky moonscape of an island known as Skellig Michael. It's ten miles out into the rough Atlantic from the safe, cozy irish coastline. Back in the seventh century some Irish monks hatched the rather bizarre notion that it would be a good and Holy thing to row out to this giant, jagged, jutting hunk of rock, somehow climb to the windy top (this would have been before the stone steps, because they built them), and erect some stone huts. Then they would live up there without any material comforts as a sacrifice to God. (Learning this, you get the feeling that the Irish beer must have been pretty good even back then.)

So they did it, and for several centuries this was The Place To Pilgrimage for your basic Irish ascetic. And if it wasn't stark and forbidding enough, you could always crawl 12 feet or so out onto a narrow, plank-like rock promontory and kiss the base of a cross that stood 700 feet above the jagged rocks and sea below. It's an unforgettable place to visit, and as this was something of an adventure tour of Ireland, I was eager to see what was next.

So Dave and Mark (our highly competent Vagabond Adventure Tour guides) mentioned that they wanted to take us out to jump on the Irish bog. I jokingly asked if bog-jumping is one of the ancient Gaelic sports played only in Ireland, like hurling. Now the phrase "bog snorkelling" may make you feel like hurling, but that's not what Irish hurling is. I can say this with certainty, because we watched the All-Ireland Hurling Finals between Cork and Galway. (For all of you holding your breath, Cork won.)

Hurling is one of those field sports like soccer, football, or rugby, where one team tries to get the ball into the goal more times than the other team. Except that in hurling the men have wooden bats ("hurls") to hit the ball viciously through the air while running at full speed without any padding or evidently much in the way of a self-preservation instinct. My lasting impression was that it looked like the best way I have ever seen to lose a few teeth. Or possibly an ear.

Even so, it's a terribly exciting sport and we all got really involved in pulling for Galway, since we were watching it in the actual County Galway itself, in a lovely little pub surrounded by dozens of highly excited Galwegians with their few hundred pints of Guinness. Also since the event has roughly the same level of sporting significance as the Super Bowl does in the States.

Anyway, Dave replied that no, there's no sport of Bog Jumping. But there IS the sport of Bog Snorkelling (I felt myself tingling all over), and to understand it, we had to experience the bog. For all the non-geologists in the group, Dave and Mark explained that the bog is simply the remains of ancient plants and animals compressed into layers. It's basically very young coal. And for millennia the Irish have been cutting the bog into bricks, drying it, and burning it for fuel. Some of them even say they like the smell.

Now the bog is not like any ground you have ever walked on. It's spongy and soft. Kind of like a giant, goofy trampoline. Dave told half the group to jump up and down together, and the rest of us felt the earth move and shake, like that Carole King song. It was weird, but fun.

Then we took turns cutting bricks out of the bog so we could see how soft it was. But what you easily discern is that cutting the bog creates long channels about the width of a swimming lane, and they tend to fill up with an oozing, dark, murky, unimaginably dank, soupy substance that surely contains everything scary and horrible from all the ancient Celtic myths and legends. (Not unlike what Tim Robbins swam through in The Shawshank Redemption.) Mark told us to be very careful not to fall in it, because you could quite easily just sink out of sight. I presume what he meant was sink right into the nether world of demons and bog monsters. He looked very serious, and I believed him.

Somewhere, somehow (probably in a pub after a hurling final), somebody got the idea that it would be a fun and exciting thing to strap on a snorkel and swim through this stuff. And even make it a competition.

Now this is evidently not without precedent. In very ancient Irish culture (so we were told by our highly competent Vagabond tour guides, who could have been making this up), one of the ways you proved you were man enough to be king was to first parade naked before the tribe to demonstrate your manliness, then bathe in a giant cauldron of soup made of horse parts from a mare that had been sacrificed for this purpose. The king and tribe would then drink the soup of horse parts, and presumably whatever had been under the king's toenails, to absorb the power of the animal.

(As an aside, I would like to see this ritual reinstated for presidential inaugurations. George W. Bush, for example, sees himself as a manly kind of leader. I think public bathing in a giant vat of horsesoup would be appropriate for him. Maybe the Chief Justice could get in there with him. Or maybe we could use it to decide political races. Wouldn't you prefer an elected official who was willing to get down in the muck with the people -- say, in New Orleans -- instead of flying over it in Air Force One?)

So Bog Snorkelling is really just the latest incarnation of the ancient Celtic or even neolithic way of confronting the scary, dark side of the unconscious and the creepy. There is a competition and timing aspect to it, but even if you don't win the race, just getting in the slimy bog pool and snorkeling 50-60 feet would say a lot about your courage. Or sanity. Or sobriety.

The only disappointing thing about it all was finding out that wetsuits and swim masks are allowed. I'm sure they would have been sneered at by the ancient Celtic kings. Maybe there is a sanitation factor or something to consider nowadays, but the truth is we're probably just not as rugged as the Bog Lords of Olde. (Another good name for a band.)

Okay, I know what you're thinking: "So how was it?" Well, honesty compels me to admit: I didn't actually try it. But not from lack of desire. Our highly competent, ever-prepared guides, not imagining for a moment that anyone from the States would be crazy enough to even consider this, did not actually have the required snorkelage equipment on board. This is an oversight I'm sure they'll correct for the next group.

And besides, I need a noble purpose to take me back to Ireland as soon as possible.

And just in case you're getting the impression the whole of our Ireland experience was spent in bogs, pubs, and Skelligs, we did spend part of the World Day of Prayer in a tiny, 1000 year old, still-intact stone chapel (The Gallerus Oratory) reading poetry and singing together. It was lovely.


Bog Snorkelling takes place in Wales, Ireland and possibly wherever there are bogs. The world championships are in Wales every August. (To find out more, here's a website with photos: http://llanwrtyd-wells.powys.org.uk/bog.html)

© 2005 Greg Tamblyn

TuneTown E-News #29
www.gregtamblyn.com

(Note: To read previous NEWS entries, just scroll down till you get there.....)


DAD FINALLY GETS AN ACE
THE MATCHING LUGGAGE THEORY OF RELATIONSHIPS
POSITIVE MUSIC ASSOCIATION



DAD FINALLY GETS AN ACE

My dad passed away in February. We had him cremated and gave him a loving, upbeat service telling stories and singing songs. But we weren't finished. The way we finally sent him off was a little wacky.

His 80th birthday would have been July 2. So all of us in the family converged at my brother's house for dinner. We ate, talked, and played games until around 10 pm, when it was really dark outside. Then all 15 of us, from my little grade-schooler nephews to my 80-something mother, dressed up in our darkest burglar clothes, and sneaked onto the golf course where Dad had been a member for 40 years.

A couple hundred people were doing their social thing just a stone's throw away in the clubhouse. So we creeped around in the dark, laughing in whispers and spreading handfuls of Dad's ashes on some of the holes we knew he liked. We also put some in the lake where our giant mutant labrador used to submerge himself in the stinky mud. Then, covered in slime and full of doggie joy, he'd race around the course mounting unsuspecting golfers who happened to be bending over their bags at exactly the wrong time. (Dad always offered to pay for their dry cleaning.)

We finished up in a circle on the 18th fairway, singing Happy Birthday to him as loud as we could, then ran back to our cars before they could kick us off.

What I loved about this whole goofy goodbye ritual is how into it we all were. Even the littlest kids were grabbing handfuls of Dad and gently lofting him into the breeze. It was a great family outing. A real team-building experience. But what I liked most was Mom's idea to put some ashes in the cup of Dad's favorite par 3, so he could finally get a hole in one!

Very cool, Mom.

© 2005 Greg Tamblyn


THE MATCHING LUGGAGE THEORY OF RELATIONSHIPS

Mom and Dad were married for 58 years, which I attribute to what I call the Matching Luggage Theory of relationships. It's very simple: we each come into a relationship with our own emotional baggage. So the trick is to find somebody with matching luggage. Because then at least it's familiar. There's a comfort level. ("Oh, yeah, I know that little act--I've done it myself.")

But that clashing luggage--that's what drives you crazy. It's like a language you can't speak, or tools you don't know how to use. (Sorry about the clashing metaphors.) So if you're single, look for somebody with matching luggage. You'll be "happier."

(Note to analytical types: please don't spend a lot of time thinking about this.)

© 2005 Greg Tamblyn


POSITIVE MUSIC ASSOCIATION

Are you like me? Are you tired of listening to Station WVLS?
(Whiny Victim Love Songs) Good news: time to check out Poz Radio at
www.positivemusicassociation.com.
You can listen to really cool, uplifting music all day long, and if there's somebody you especially like you can find 'em in the roster and browse their site, their CDs, and much more. This is the brainchild of Scott Johnson, and it's a great resource for us indie artists as well as all music lovers. Worthy of our support.

© 2005 Greg Tamblyn

(Note: To read previous NEWS entries, just scroll down till you get there.....)



THE 2005 WHINY VICTIM LOVE SONG AWARDS
(a.k.a. "The Whineys")

by Greg Tamblyn

In the spirit of fun, and with an ear toward raising the consciousness of both
music lovers and music makers everywhere, we here at TuneTown Records
present the 2005 winners (losers?) for the best (worst?) whiny victim love songs,
as submitted by a cadre of devoted and amused listeners.

From Carole King to Sting, from Alanis to Janis, from Macy Gray to Brother Ray, the submissions were astonishing. Indeed, the lineup of artists and writers is a Who's Who of Hall of Fame candidates: Celine Dion, Luciano Pavarotti, Jewel, Joan Jett, Jacques Brel, Gilbert and Sullivan, Bacharach and David, Toni Braxton and Aretha Franklin, among others. The nominees were sent to a panel of 23 independent judges who contributed not only their votes but some hilarious and pointed comments. Some of these judges, it should be noted, are firmly ensconced in the "Music Bizness."

The award-winning songs are the ones that do the most to celebrate victimhood, and turn love into a hostage situation. They are songs that go far beyond sadness and loneliness, to an island of desperation and longing that no one should inhabit.
Except maybe Phil Spector.

Friends, we have work to do! Let us be vigilant. Let us consign these songs
and their illegitimate, inbred cousins to their rightful place in the world of entertainment: Material For Comedy!

Here then, in reverse order, are the top 10 for 2005, with judges comments.
(To see all 35 contest entries, scroll down to the next NEWS entry.)


10. (tie) IF LOVING YOU IS WRONG...I DON'T WANT TO BE RIGHT
Writers: H. Banks / R. Jackson / C. Hampton)
Recorded by Barbara Mandrell, among others
(submitted by Denise)

Am I wrong to fall
So deeply in love with you...
Knowing you've got a wife and two little children
Depending on you too
Am I wrong to hunger
For the gentleness of your touch...
Knowing you've got someone else at home
Who needs you just as much
Am I wrong to give my love
To a married man? 
Am I wrong for trying to hold on
To the best thing I've ever had?
If loving you is wrong...I don't want to be right
If loving you is wrong...I don't want to be right


Judges Comments:
"This should be inducted into the Hall of Shameful Love Songs."
"Ahhh, she missed the 'No Trespassing' sign as she drove down Lost Integrity Lane into Self-Sabotage County!!!"
"She definitely needs to save up and buy a clue."


10. (tie) DIE WITHOUT YOU
Brandy
submitted by Beth

If I have to give away
The feeling that I feel
If I have to sacrifice
Whatever, baby, whatever, baby
If I have to take apart
All that I am
Is there anything that I would not do?
'Cause inside, I'd die without you

Oh, I apologize for all the things I've done
But now I'm underwater and I'm drowning
Is it my turn to be the one to cry?
Isn't it amazing how some things just completely turn around?
So take ev'ry little piece of my heart
So take ev'ry little piece of my soul
So take ev'ry little piece of my mind
'Cause if you're gone
Inside, I'd die without you

Judges comments:
"This was way too traumatic.  I need a nap!"


8. (tie) PIECE OF MY HEART
(Bert Berns/Jerry Ragovoy)
Recorded by Erma Franklin, Janis Joplin, Faith Hill, others
(submitted by Ric)

didn't i make you feel
like you were the only man?
didnt i give ya everything
that a woman possibly can?
but with all the love i give you
its never enough
but im gonna show you baby
that a woman can be tough

so come on, come on, come on, come one
and take another little piece of my heart now baby
break it
break another little bit of my heart now honey
have another little piece of my heart baby
you know you got it
if it makes you feel good

Judges comments:
"The truly sick thing is that until I woke up to this stuff I thought some
of these were good songs!"


8. (tie) AS LONG AS HE NEEDS ME
from "Oliver"
(submitted by Sandy B)

(Context note: "He" beats her to death by the end of the show)

As long as he needs me...
Oh, yes, he does need me...
In spite of what you see...
...I'm sure that he needs me.
Who else would love him still
When they've been used so ill?
He knows I always will...
As long as he needs me.

I miss him so much when he is gone,
But when he's near me, I don't let on...
...The way I feel inside.
The love, I have to hide...
The hell! I've got my pride
As long as he needs me


Judges comments:
"I had to add this one, just because of the context note."


7. #1 CRUSH
Garbage
(submitted by Laura P)

I will burn for you
Feel pain for you
I will twist the knife and bleed my aching heart
And tear it apart
I will lie for you
Beg and steal for you
I will crawl on hands and knees until you see
You're just like me
Violate all the love that I'm missing
Throw away all the pain that I'm living
You will believe in me
And I can never be ignored

I would die for you
I would kill for you
I will steal for you
I'd do time for you
I would wait for you
I'd make room for you
I'd sink ships for you
To be close to you
To be a part of you
'Cause I believe in you
I believe in you
I would die for you


Judges comments:
"I had no idea these kinds of lyrics existed...."
"I´m glad I never heard this song......Number One for stupid." 


6. LOSER
Beck
(submitted by Andy and Patricia -- $50 winner)

Someone keeps sayin' I'm insane to complain
About a shotgun wedding and a stain on my shirt
Don't believe everything that you breathe
You get a parking violation and a maggot on your sleeve
So shave your face with some mace in the dark
Savin' all your food stamps and burnin' down the trailer park

Yo cut it

Soy un perdedor ("I´m a loser" in Spanish)
I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?
Double-barrel buckshot
Soy un perdedor
I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?


Judges comments:
"This hair ball sure has himself in an iron box labeled 'hell'.  Can we say - -  'dark'???"
"Yes, kill me. THEN you'll love me. Maybe then I can speak communicable English too."


5. WHISKEY LULLABYE
Melonie Cannon
Written by Bill Anderson & Jon Randall
©2003 Sony/ATV Tree Pub./Mr. Bubba Music (BMI)/
Reynsong Pub. Corp./Whayasay Music (BMI)
(submitted by Aleta -- $50 winner)

She put him out... like the burning end of a midnight cigarette
She broke his heart... he spent his whole life trying to forget
We watched him drink away his pain a little at a time
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind
Till the night

He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger
And he finally blew away her memory
Life is short, but this time it was bigger
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees
We found him with his face down in the pillow
With a note that said "I´ll love her till I die"
And when they buried him beneath the willow
The angels sang a whiskey lullaby


Judges comments:
"...that crazy Whiskey Lullabye, holy crap, out does the rest by a state."
"After participating in last year's selection, I remember thinking, 'Well, that's that. There really aren't too many more whiny victim, co-dependent songs left for next year's contest. After all, Diane Warren isn't cranking 'em out like she used to.' Wow, was I wrong! 35 entries. And almost all would easily qualify to be in the top 5."


4. I HATE YOU THEN I LOVE YOU
Celine Dion & Luciano Pavarotti
also recorded by Shirley Bassey
(writers: Tony Renis, Ediciones De Falla, Manuel De Falla, Alberto Testa, Fabio Testa, and Norman Newell)
(submitted by Beth -- $50 winnner)

You treat me wrong
You treat me right
You let me be
You make me fight with you / I could never live without you

You make me high
You bring me down
You set me free
You hold me bound to you

I hate you
Then I love you
Then I love you
Then I hate you
Then I love you more / I love you more
For whatever you do / For whatever you do
I never, never, never
Want to be in love with anyone but you


Judges comments:
"Ah, someone finally figured out true love."
"The idea that Celine Dion and Luciano Pavarotti would lend their vocal talents to a lyric like "I Hate You Then I Love You," makes me suspect that their respective managers must have been on a beautiful tropical island somewhere (with Celine and Luciano's money), when they should have been in the studio doing everything in their power to prevent these two talented vocalists from singing such an unhealthy piece of tripe."


3. STILL
Macy Gray
(submitted by Laura Sue -- $50 winner)

In my last year with him there were bruises on my face
In my dawn and new day
I finally got away
But my head's all messed up and he knows
just what to say
No more dawn and new days
I'm goin back to stay
Why say bye bye
When it only makes me cry

I still
Light up like a candle burnin when he calls me up
I still
Melt down like a candle burnin everytime we touch
Oh say what you will
He does me wrong and I should be gone
I still
Be lovin you baby and it's much to much


Judges comments:
"An anthem for battered women"
"Wow--you (almost) deserve to be prey"
"I think she must have bruises on the brain to be singing this."


2. PLEASE HURT ME
Little Eva
(Gerry Goffin/Carole King)
(submitted by Stephen E -- multi-award rule)

If you gotta hurt somebody, please hurt me
& if you gotta break a heart, then please break mine
I won't cry if you deceive me
I'll take it with a smile
I know someday you will leave me
But at least I'll have you for a while
So darlin', if you gotta hurt somebody, please hurt me
& if I have to be a plaything, that's what I'll be
Please hurt me, oh please hurt me
Come on & please hurt me
Why don't you please hurt me


Judges comments:
"Short and to the point. Title says it all."
"......a toxic dose of martyrdom"
"Carole King wrote this?? Wow!"


1. HE HIT ME (And It Felt Like A Kiss)
The Crystals, Courtney Love and Hole
(Carole King, Gerry Goffin)
(submitted by Stephen E -- $200 winner!)

He hit me
And it felt like a kiss
He hit me
But it didn't hurt me

He couldn't stand to hear me say
That I'd been with someone new
And when I told him
I had been untrue

He hit me
And it felt like a kiss
He hit me
And I knew he loved me

'Cause if he didn't care for me
I could've never made him mad
He hit me
And I was glad

Baby won't you stay
Baby won't you stay
Baby won't you stay
Never go away


Judges comments:
"What a slew of gruel! I feel like I need to take a shower."
"People also cut themselves to make them feel."
"This relationship is not headed in a good direction, I would guess….just a guess, of course.  I could be wrong…but, I don´t have a good feeling about it.  Just an instinct.  Maybe it´s just me.  Is it just me?"


Note: Carole King and Gerry Goffin were inspired to write this after Little Eva (pop singer famous for her hit "The Loco-Motion") told them about her relationship with an abusive boyfriend. Due to the subject matter and lyrics, this was a complete failure. It was disliked by the public, and radio stations denied the song airplay. The Crystals hated the song as well. Why Phil Spector convinced them to record it and then tried to release it as a single remains a mystery today. (from songfacts.com)

Well, obviously Carole King and Gerry Goffin had a weird streak. The fact that they wrote at least two songs as sick as these is truly amazing, and something I'm guessing they'd love to forget. And since those songs are over 40 years old, we can kind of let them off the hook a little. But--it lives on--it was released on a 1997 album by Courtney Love and Hole! What's also mind-blowing is that so many other songs in the top 10 are so recent.

(To read ALL the contest entries and for more contest info, please scroll down to the next NEWS entry.)

--Greg Tamblyn is a Kansas City singer, songwriter, and humorist.
His song "Common Side Effects Include" (written with Richard Helm)
recently won Best Novelty Song (out of 140,000 songs) in the
2004 Just Plain Folks Music Awards for independent artists.
(http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/gregtamblyn7)
(http://www.jpfolks.com)

ENTRIES

THE 2005 WHINY VICTIM LOVE SONG AWARDS

a.k.a. "The Whineys"

The entries are in, the judges are judging, and the results will be announced during Valentine's Week.

So here for your entertainment, enlightenment, and edification
(whatever that means) are the entries.
Please check back after Valentine's Day for "the whinners."

Enjoy!



1. I HATE YOU THEN I LOVE YOU
Celine Dion & Luciano Pavarotti
also recorded by Shirley Bassey
(writers: Tony Renis, Ediciones De Falla, Manuel De Falla, Alberto Testa, Fabio Testa, and Norman Newell)
submitted by Beth

I'd like to run away from you
But if I were to leave you I would die
I'd like to break the chains you put around me
And yet I'll never try

No matter what you do you drive me crazy
I'd rather be alone
But then I know my life would be so empty
As soon as you were gone

Impossible to live with you
But I could never live without you
For whatever you do / For whatever you do
I never, never, never
Want to be in love with anyone but you

You make me sad
You make me strong
You make me mad
You make me long for you / You make me long for you

You make me live
You make me die
You make me laugh
You make me cry for you / You make me cry for you

I hate you
Then I love you
Then I love you
Then I hate you
Then I love you more
For whatever you do
I never, never, never
Want to be in love with anyone but you

You treat me wrong
You treat me right
You let me be
You make me fight with you / I could never live without you

You make me high
You bring me down
You set me free
You hold me bound to you

I hate you
Then I love you
Then I love you
Then I hate you
Then I love you more / I love you more
For whatever you do / For whatever you do
I never, never, never
Want to be in love with anyone but you

I never, never, never
I never, never, never
I never, never, never
Want to be in love with anyone but you
But you




2. EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE
The Police (Sting)
submitted by Beth


Every breath you take
Every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take
I'll be watching you

Every single day
Every word you say
Every game you play
Every night you say
I'll be watching you

O can't you see
You belong to me
How my poor heart aches
With every step you take

Every move you make
Every vow you break
Every smile you fake
Every claim you stake
I'll be watching you

Since you've gone I been lost without a trace
I dream at night I can only see your face
I look around but it's you I can't replace
I feel so cold and I long for your embrace
I keep crying baby, baby, please

O can't you see
You belong to me
How my poor heart aches
With every breath you take

Every move you make
Every vow you break
Every smile you fake
Every claim you stake

Every move you make
Every step you take
I'll be watching you




3. DIE WITHOUT YOU
Brandy
submitted by Beth

Is it my turn to wish you were lying here?
I tend to dream you when I'm not sleeping
Is it my turn to fictionalize my world
Or even imagine your emotions to tell myself anything?
Is it my turn to hold you by your hands
Tell you I love you, and you not hear me?
Is it my turn to totally understand
To watch you walk out of my life and not do a damn thing?

(Chorus:)
If I have to give away
The feeling that I feel
If I have to sacrifice
Whatever, baby, whatever, baby
If I have to take apart
All that I am
Is there anything that I would not do?
'Cause inside, I'd die without you

Oh, I apologize for all the things I've done
But now I'm underwater and I'm drowning
Is it my turn to be the one to cry?
Isn't it amazing how some things just completely turn around?
So take ev'ry little piece of my heart
So take ev'ry little piece of my soul
So take ev'ry little piece of my mind
'Cause if you're gone
Inside, I'd die without you

(Repeat chorus)

I'd die without you
I'd die without you...




4. BREAK ME
Jewel
submitted by Beth

I will meet you
In some place
Where the light lends itself
To soft repose
I will let you undress me
But I warn you
I have thorns like any rose

You could hurt me
With your bare hands
You could hurt me
Using the sharp end of what you say
But I´m lost to you now
And there´s no amount of reason
That could save me

Chorus:
So break me
Take me
Just let me feel your arms again
Break me
I´ll let you make me
Just let me feel your love again

Feels like being underwater
Now that I´ve let go
And lost control
Water kisses fill my mouth
Water fills my soul

Chorus

Bridge:
Kiss me once
Well, maybe twice
Oh, it never felt so nice

Chorus

Just let me feel your love again




5. I HATE MYSELF FOR LOVING YOU
Joan Jett
submitted by Beth

Midnight gettin´ uptight where are you
You said you´d meet me now it´s quarter to two
I know I´m hangin´ but I´m still wantin´ you

Hey jack it´s a fact they´re talkin´ in town
I turn my back and you´re messin´ around
I´m not really jealous don´t like lookin´ like a clown

I think of you ev´ry night and day
You took my heart then you took my pride away

I hate myself for loving you
Can´t break free from the the things that you do
I wanna walk but I run back to you that´s why
I hate myself for loving you

Daylight spent the night without you
But I´ve been dreamin´ ´bout the lovin´ you do
I won´t be as angry ´bout the hell you put me through

Hey man bet you can treat me right
You just don´t know what you was missin´ last night
I wanna see your face and say forget it just from spite

I hate myself for loving you
Can´t break free from the the things that you do
I wanna walk but I run back to you, that´s why
I hate myself for loving you

I hate myself for loving you
Can´t break free from the things that you do
I wanna walk but I run back to you that´s why
I hate myself for loving you

I think of you ev´ry night and day
You took my heart then you took my pride away

I hate myself for loving you
Can´t break free from the the things that you do
I wanna walk but I run back to you that´s why
I hate myself for loving you
I hate myself for loving you
I hate myself for loving you




6. CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT YOUR LOVE AND AFFECTION
Nelson
submitted by Beth

Here she comes, just like an angel
Seems like forever that she's been on my mind
But nothing has changed
She thinks I'm a waste of her time

There she goes, she don't know what she's missing
Can't she see I'll never give up the fight
I'll do all I can till she understands my desire
I'm on the outside lookin in

Let me into your heart - oh
There's nothing on earth that
Should keep up apart
I can't live without your love and affection
I can't face another night on my own
I'd give up my pride to save me from being alone
'Cause I can't live without your love

So I wait, here for an answer
And wonder if tomorrow will be like yesterday
I'll keep holding on
But I can't go on living this way

I've been on the outside looking in
Bring these tears to an end - oh
I realize there's no use for me to pretend
Oh yeah

I can't live without your love and affection
I can't face another night on my own
I'd give up my pride to save me from being alone
'Cause I can't live without your love
For your love...I'd put my arms around you
For your love...and find the strength to tell you

Chorus:
I can't live without your love and affection
I just can't go on this way anymore
As hard as I try there's on thing that I know for sure
I can't live without your love
I can't live without your love




7. UNBREAK MY HEART
Toni Braxton
(written by Dianne Warren)
submitted by Beth

Don't leave me in all this pain
Don't leave me out in the rain
Come back and bring back my smile
Come and take these tears away
I need your arms to hold me now
The nights are so unkind
Bring back those nights when I held you beside me

Un-break my heart
Say you'll love me again
Un-do this hurt you caused
When you walked out the door
And walked outta my life
Un-cry these tears
I cried so many nights
Un-break my heart, my heart

Take back that sad word good-bye
Bring back the joy to my life
Don't leave me here with these tears
Come and kiss this pain away
I can't forget the day you left
Time is so unkind
And life is so cruel without you here beside me
(chorus)

Ohh, oh
Don't leave me in all this pain
Don't leave me out in the rain
Bring back the nights when I held you beside me
(chorus)

Un-break my
Un-break my heart, oh baby
Come back and say you love me
Un-break my heart
Sweet darlin'
Without you I just can't go on
Can't go on




8. STILL
Macy Gray
submitted by Laura Sue

In my last year with him there were bruises on my face
In my dawn and new day
I finally got away
But my head's all messed up and he knows
just what to say
No more dawn and new days
I'm goin back to stay
Why say bye bye
When it only makes me cry

I still
Light up like a candle burnin when he calls me up
I still
Melt down like a candle burnin everytime we touch
Oh say what you will
He does me wrong and I should be gone
I still
Be lovin you baby and it's much to much

We are going down
Cuz you're always getting high
And your crumbs of lovin
No longer get me by
Wow! It gets better everytime that we get high
Then your crumbs of lovin
They somehow get me by
Why say bye bye
When it only makes me cry

I still
Light up like a candle burnin when he calls me up
I still
Melt down like a candle burnin evertime we touch
Oh say what you will
He does me wrong and I should be gone
I still
Be lovin you baby and it's much too much

Can't I go my severed way?
Some rain for my sunny day
Not even one reason to stay
Why?
I should've left you
Why?
I can't fogetcha baby
Why?
Ever since I metcha it's
Why?

I still
Light up like a candle burnin when he calls me up
I still
Melt down like a candle burnin everytime we touch
Oh say what you will
He does me wrong and I should be gone
I still
Be lovin you baby it's much too much




9. DES DE MOOR: DON'T LEAVE ME / NE ME QUITTE PAS
Jacques Brel 
submitted by Mabel M

These are two versions of this epic french love song.

Version 1:

Don´t leave me now
We must just forget
All we can forget
All we did till now
Let´s forget the cost
Of the breath we´ve spent
Saying words unmeant
And the times we´ve lost
Hours that must destroy
Never knowing why
Everything must die
At the heart of joy

Don´t leave me now
Don´t leave me now
Don´t leave me now I´ll bring back to you
The clear pearls of rain
From a distant domain
Where rain never fell
And though I grow old
I´ll keep mining the ground
To deck you around
In sunlight and gold
I´ll build you a desmene
Where love´s everything
Where love is the king
And you are the queen
Don´t leave me now
Don´t leave me now
Don´t leave me now

Don´t leave me now
For you I´ll invent
Words and what they meant
Only you will know
Tales of lovers who
Fell apart and then
Fell in love again
Since their hearts stayed true
There´s a story too
That I can confide
Of that king who died
From not meeting you
Don´t leave me now
Don´t leave me now
Don´t leave me now

And often it´s true
That flames spill anew
From ancient volcanos
We thought were too old
When all´s said and done
Scorched fields of defeat
Could give us more wheat
Than the fine April sun
And when evening is nigh
With flames overhead
The black and the red
Aren´t they joined in the sky?
Don´t leave me now
Don´t leave me now
Don´t leave me now

Don´t leave me now
I will cry no more
I will talk no more
Hide myself somehow
And I´ll see your smile
And I´ll see you dance
And I´ll hear you sing
Hear your laughter ring
Let me be for you
The shadow of your shadow
The shadow of your hand
The dog at your command
Don´t leave me now
Don´t leave me now
Don´t leave me now

Translation: Deptford and Greenwich, London, 2 August 1999


Version 2:
10. DON'T LEAVE ME! NE ME QUITTE PAS!


Don't leave me!
Let's forget -
for all can be forgotten
which is gone by already!
Forget the time
of misunderstandings and
the time
lost
finding out how
to forget those hours
which sometimes killed
by blows of "why?"
the heart
of happiness.
Don't leave me!
Don't leave me!
Don't leave me!
Don't leave me!


I will give you
pearls of rain
come from countries
where it never rains.
I will dig up the earth
even in death
to cover your body
with gold and with light.
I will make a kingdom
where love shall be king
where love shall be law
where you shall be queen.
Don't leave me!
Don't leave me!
Don't leave me!
Don't leave me!


Don't leave me!
I shall invent
senseless words
which you will understand.
I shall tell you about
those lovers who
saw twice
their hearts
go up in flames.
I shall tell you
the story of this king
dead
for not having succeeded
in finding you.
Don't leave me!
Don't leave me!
Don't leave me!
Don't leave me!


One has often seen
burst anew the fire
of an old volcano
believed to be spent.
There are, it is said,
scorched lands
yielding more wheat
than the best of April.
And when evening comes,
to make the sky flare up,
don't the black and the red
wed?
Don't leave me!
Don't leave me!
Don't leave me!
Don't leave me!


Don't leave me!
I'll weep no more,
I'll speak no more,
I'll hide right here,
to look at you
dance and smile, to
listen to you
sing
and then laugh...
Let me become
the shadow
of your shadow,
the shadow of your hand,
the shadow of your dog, but
don't leave me!
Don't leave me!
Don't leave me!
Don't leave me!


 

11. SPRAY
The Bobs  (album - "Unplugged")
  (submitted by Ken W)

Even in the fifth grade I knew it was you
I passed you a note with our names in a heart
You say that it's over, I'll never give up
You're more than my life you're my work of art

I've got a spray can full of love
I'll tag your name on every overpass
"Amy, I'm crazy for you...
And I'm sprayin' with my heart--
Larry"

I'll write your name across the sky
In wintertime I'll pee it in the snow
At the beach I'll trace three letters in the sand
And draw them at night with an embers glow

I'll put your name on my license plate
My Amy virus will infect every screen
I'll tattoo A-M-Y on the back of my hands
You'll be in the clear where Waldo won't be seen

I've got a spray can full of love
I'll tag your name on every overpass
"Amy, I'm crazy for you...
And I'm sprayin' with my heart--
Larry"

Amy on buses, Amy on bridges
Amy on every bench in the park
Amy on signs and Amy on fences
I'm spraying like a tom cat --
making my mark

I'll make your name so obvious
Soon the whole world will pray
Why won't Amy say yes to Larry
So that he will go away

I've got a spray can full of love
I'll tag your name on every overpass
"Amy, I'm crazy for you...
And I'm sprayin' with my heart--
Larry"
 



12. LOSER
Beck
submitted by Andy and Patricia

In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey
Butane in my veins so I'm out to cut the junkie
With the plastic eyeballs, spray paint the vegetables
Dog food skulls with the beefcake pantyhose

Kill the headlights and put it in neutral
Stock car flamin' with a loser and the cruise control
Baby's in Reno with the vitamin D
Got a couple of couches asleep on the love seat

Someone keeps sayin' I'm insane to complain
About a shotgun wedding and a stain on my shirt
Don't believe everything that you breathe
You get a parking violation and a maggot on your sleeve
So shave your face with some mace in the dark
Savin' all your food stamps and burnin' down the trailer park

Yo cut it

Soy un perdedor ("I´m a loser" in Spanish)
I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?
Double-barrel buckshot
Soy un perdedor
I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?

Forces of evil in a bozo nightmare
banned all the music with a phony gas chamber
Cos one's got a weasel and the other's got a flag
One's got on the pole shove the other in a bag

With the rerun shows and the cocaine nose job
The daytime crap of a folksinger slob
He hung himself with a guitar string
Slab of turkey neck and it's hangin' from a pigeon wing

You can't write if you can't relate
Trade the cash for the beef for the body for the hate
And my time is a piece of wax fallin' on a termite
Who's chokin' on the splinters

Soy un perdedor
I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?
Get crazy with the cheeze whiz
Soy un perdedor
I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?
Drive-by body pierce
Yo bring it on down

I'm a driver, I'm a winner
Things are gonna change, I can feel it

Soy un perdedor
I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?
I can't believe you!
Soy un perdedor
I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?
Sprechen sie deutsche, baby
Know what I'm saying?




13. WHISKEY LULLABYE
Melonie Cannon
Written by Bill Anderson & Jon Randall
©2003 Sony/ATV Tree Pub./Mr. Bubba Music (BMI)/
Reynsong Pub. Corp./Whayasay Music (BMI)
submitted by Aleta

She put him out... like the burning end of a midnight cigarette
She broke his heart... he spent his whole life trying to forget
We watched him drink away his pain a little at a time
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind
Till the night

He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger
And he finally blew away her memory
Life is short, but this time it was bigger
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees
We found him with his face down in the pillow
With a note that said "I´ll love her till I die"
And when they buried him beneath the willow
The angels sang