Puppy Eyes
May 7, 2008
I'm back from the middle of beautiful nowhere. Scotland is glorious rocky terrain with mountains and waterfalls and endless lakes and rolling green. The isles are desolate, lonely creatures with the most stunning views I've seen anywhere-- on one of the drives back to London, I saw something like twenty-two rainbows. I counted. It is a strange fairyland populated with whisky and sheep and ghost stories. Everyone I talk to has a ghost story.Back in London, the piano is sitting unplayed in the house, and she gives me a puppy dog stare whenever I walk to the kitchen to get coffee or biscuits or bits of toast. Her ivory keys emanating some kind of wistful ache. Please touch me.
But I've been too busy. How is that possible? Too busy to play piano? It will pass.
My rock star roommate is playing a recent mix of her album downstairs, and I can hear strains of violin wafting up the staircase. The house is dark. I'm rummaging around my computer for some track to put up here in lieu of a new song...
There. I found a track of me singing Gloomy Sunday sans instruments, from about eight months ago. A friend loves the song-- how could you not? -- so I sent over a version:
Download: Gloomy Sunday
In my double life I'm helping Cory Doctorow donate copies of Little Brother to libraries, and aiding and abetting my friend Allan Amato on his photo shoots while he's in town. (The latter of which, admittedly, consists more of drinking wine and cheering "Go, Allan, go!" than anything else.) Over at the Fabulist, I interviewed David Ford, and I am still slowly-but-surely porting bits over into wonder-Neil's blog, which is actually kind of neat, as a time capsule.
Did I mention I'm busy? It may have come up.*
The piano is giving me that look again...
*This is not me cleverly disguising how I am secretly a slacker and have not written any songs in three weeks.
Posted by Olga at 10:20 PM | Comments (0)
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