This is a little ranty. The only benefit of this rant is to get some random thoughts out - expressed. Meaning that althought it benefits MO, it may not benefit you. So don't read it.
There is a bit of a funk over me of late. Random funk. As always, obstacles are easiest overcome for me by finding the lighter side of it. The funk is overwhelming and mediocre and seems to be in every aspect of my days and nights, which makes it very much like the overwhelmingly mediocre song by the Blackeyed Peas, "My Humps". Thus encouraging me to change the lyrics of "My Humps" to "My Funk", but upon reading said lyrics (posted after the jump in their full hideousity - read at your own peril), I knew that it was best that I distance my funk as far as possible from Fergie's humps.
Part of the funk is the general lack of time to do things quickly and the fact that when time is plentiful, it seems wasted on other mundanities. A totally lame example being the morphing of Fergie into Kirstie Alley. After looking for the lyrics, and seeing assorted images of Fergie on assorted websites, I reminded myself of a comment that I'd made to a friend when one of those unavoidable exposures to the Blackeyed Peas occurred: that Fergie looks like Kirstie Alley. Two months after that comment, gathering a couple of images it occurred to me that perhaps this is not an original idea. It so totally is not. But I'd already created the image, so, whatever. "And the funk rolls on ..."
Typical. Just when a funk sets in some encouraging emails arrive. In this case from artists whom I admire (and whose names I won't drop - I'm not like that). Which, because of the overly self-reflective nature of any funk, means that a response can't be sent immediately to them, not wanting to seem overly eager, fannish - scary. But at the same time, it can't be cold and detatched. A big part of this is that they lead a life that I dream of, but several patterns of risk-aversion that evolved over the years have put me where I am.
And that brings us back to funk. Let's start at the very beginning.
A very good place to start.
When you read you begin with A-B-C.
When you sing you begin with funk-re-mi. Funk-re-mi, Funk-re-mi.
The first three notes just happen to be Funk-re-mi, Funk-re-mi
Funk-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti
Oh, let's see if I can make it easier
Going back to my very first post here, this project has been about overcoming the funk. Avoiding hateration. Because hating is easy. Several changes in the economics and the culture in which we are living make that so. In an easier world, there would be a therapy, an accupunctural procedure, a prescription, a religion, a self-medication, a co-dependence, a fetish or some other crutch. Just realism and optimism. Optimism. My crutch. My crutch my crutch my crutch. Having made a world for myself that works, my optimism persists.
The funk subsides. Optimism rises. Cool.
"My Humps"
What you gon' do with all that junk?
All that junk inside your trunk?
I'ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps. (Check it out)
I drive these brothers crazy,
I do it on the daily,
They treat me really nicely,
They buy me all these ices.
Dolce & Gabbana,
Fendi and NaDonna
Karan, they be sharin'
All their money got me wearin' fly
But I ain't askin,
They say they love my ass �n,
Seven Jeans, True Religion's,
I say no, but they keep givin'
So I keep on takin'
And no I ain't taken
We can keep on datin'
I keep on demonstrating.
My love, my love, my love, my love
You love my lady lumps,
My hump, my hump, my hump,
My humps they got u,
She's got me spending.
(Oh) Spendin' all your money on me and spending time on me.
She's got me spendin'.
(Oh) Spendin' all your money on me, up on me, on me
What you gon' do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I'ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
What u gon' do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I'm a make, make, make, make you scream
Make u scream, make you scream.
Cos of my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps. (Check it out)
I met a girl down at the disco.
She said hey, hey, hey yea let's go.
I could be your baby, you can be my honey
Let's spend time not money.
I mix your milk wit my cocoa puff,
Milky, milky cocoa,
Mix your milk with my cocoa puff, milky, milky riiiiiiight.
They say I'm really sexy,
The boys they wanna sex me.
They always standing next to me,
Always dancing next to me,
Tryin' a feel my hump, hump.
Lookin' at my lump, lump.
U can look but you can't touch it,
If you touch it I'ma start some drama,
You don't want no drama,
No, no drama, no, no, no, no drama
So don't pull on my hand boy,
You ain't my man, boy,
I'm just tryn'a dance boy,
And move my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump.
My lovely lady lumps (lumps)
My lovely lady lumps (lumps)
My lovely lady lumps (lumps)
In the back and in the front (lumps)
My lovin' got u,
She's got me spendin'.
(Oh) Spendin' all your money on me and spending time on me.
She's got me spendin'.
(Oh) Spendin' all your money on me, up on me, on me.
What you gon' do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I'ma get, get, get, get you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
What you gon' do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I'ma make, make, make, make you scream
Make you scream, make you scream.
What you gon do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I'ma get, get, get, get you drunk,
Get you love drunk off this hump.
What you gon' do wit all that breast?
All that breast inside that shirt?
I'ma make, make, make, make you work
Make you work, work, make you work.
She's got me spendin'.
Spendin all your money on me and spendin' time on me
She's got me spendin'.
Spendin' all your money on me, up on me, on me.
