Tag: songs

What was that song?

callmemaybe32Leave a comment

The other day at our morning meeting I was approached by my teacher Mr. Alvarez who is also known to you readers as “The Brown Guy.”

He said, “Keaton I need to talk to you after the meeting,”

Immediately I thought oh crap what have I done now, but I hadn’t done anything.

It was a proposition, an idea that could change the face of the Ojai Valley School. It is nothing as substantial as the newly founded Mac N Cheeseburger, might I add AMAAAAAAZIIIIING, but that is beside the point.

It had bacon on it

Back on topic.

Mr. A wanted to perform a song with myself and John aka backinphilly.

He can play alto sax and the song had alto sax in it, but he didn’t know what the song was called.

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Music these days.

rangerthecat1 Comment

I am so tired of hearing crappy music every time I turn on the radio or walk past another student’s room. I know, it really depends on each person’s opinion of what is “crappy” or not. But really, all I’ve been hearing are songs involving way too much cussing and annoying, repetitive phrases involving “big booty chicks” or “getting money”.

If music had been a person, he or she would be very disappointed to see him or her self now. Sure, music is about expressing yourself. But really, are those people really expressing themselves, or just making these ridiculous songs just to make money? What happened to the good music? Like the Beatles or Michael Jackson? People seem to forget about them more than they realize.

It really grinds my gears to hear amazing and talented artists, bands, or musicians go unrecognized for a long time, or forever. I know that not everyone can be famous or share their music with the rest of us, but in my opinion, these people deserve recognition more than the rap artists who repeat themselves in every song.

Variety and self-expression is what makes music beautiful. I feel like these days, the values expressed in songs are very questionable and the lyrics are just distasteful.

Beautiful Sounds

theycallmedame3 Comments

The blinds are closed, but light still shines through. One bed in the room is neatly made, but the other is messy. There are papers spread atop it and a guitar case, open but empty, is sitting on the floor beside the bed. There is a desk that spreads across the small room, a bookshelf on either side. The right side of the desk is neat, the chair nicely pushed in and every single book in it’s proper place. The left side, however, has pens lacking ink, pencils with snapped tips, and crumpled up papers that failed to reach the recycling box.

Her back is red and her neck is long. She is a gorgeous woman. She sings loudly; beautiful sounds spewing out from her mouth. Six strings race up her neck, vibrating and pulsing; they are her vocal chords. A small hand gently kneads her neck while another softly pulls on her strings; they are her reason to sing. She is nameless, but people call to her. She is faceless, but easily recognized. Intricate tattoos of vines twirl around her face with a silky white dove in the midst of it all. She is an it, and it is a guitar.

Some people love sports. Others love the sciences. But I love music.

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