Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Welcome to Funky Town

I spend a great deal of time by myself, that's just how I role.  I don't feel comfortable around people, for the most part, so it's just easier to annoy myself, rather than others.  But it does get quiet.  I don't want to talk to myself, because everybody knows that means you're crazy, so I sing.  (My downstairs neighbor probably would prefer me to be crazy.)  
When I'm in a fair-to-middlin' mood ( Debbie's version of happy) I sing Fanny Brice and Brak songs.  Those are two separate groups, by the way.  To my knowledge Fanny Brice and Andy Merrill (the voice of Brak) never teamed up.  But that would be awesome.

But lately I've been a full-time resident of Funky Town (not the disco kind), so I've been singing James Taylor and Joni Mitchell songs.  (Who actually did sing together occasionally, but I do their separate songs.)  "Here Comes Another Gray Morning" and "Last Time I Saw Richard" are great tunes when your heart's dragging on the floor.  Anyroad, I figure no one can hear me (except my downstairs neighbor and she owes me) so I belt it on out there.  
However, I have never done karaoke. It terrifies me.  I don't why.  I've been in musicals and even had to sing solo.  I just had to sing on stage in Yiddish, for Christ's sake (see what I did there?) and I was told I wasn't half bad.  But the idea of karaoke makes my knees shake.  I have a couple opportunities coming available soon where I could actually take the plunge and "give it a go", as our Limey Brothers say.  
But here's the thing:  Because I have made such a Big Deal of karaoke, I kind of hope (in my crazy Irish I-believe-in-leprechauns-and-pots-of-gold-at-the-end-of-rainbows way) that when I finally break through the karaoke wall, everything will finally be all right in Debland. Which it won't.  So I don't karaoke, if that is a verb, because I'd rather live with the Belief that Karaoke is a Lucky Charm, then choke on the marshmallows.

Well, who knows.  I have been taking risks lately: Hanging out with friends (Crazy!!); Not sitting around crying (You Rebel!); Eating hot dogs (?); Writing this blog (yeah, about that. . . .).  So maybe it's time I decide to join Humanity (if you'll have me) and make a fool of myself.  Oh, wait, too late. . . . .

1 comment:

  1. A warning about karaoke from someone who's been there: everybody sounds bad the first few times. The tape (I know it's not tape anymore in our postmodern digital cyberpunk world, but bear with me) won't follow you the way a pianist can. The amps usually aren't set up to facilitate the singer's ability to follow the tape, either. I don't recommend doing this at a college student hangout. Too loud, too horny, too stoopid. God bless 'em. Hit a dive for an older, calmer, quiet-desperation crowd. They'll listen without prejudice instead of yelling over you.