"National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30."
so that's what i'm doing. i'm telling you this because you are supposed to tell people. basically so that you are shamed into actually doing it :) do not expect to read this thing. i will tell you if i actually write it but no editing is supposed to take place until after it is written and well . . . don't expect to read it is all
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
one down two to go
this is one of the songs my grandmother used to sing me. they say even as a very small baby i would cry whenever she sang it. she had a mesmerizing timber.
The time was in June,
The bees humm'd a tune
The perfume of rose fill'd the air,
When just o'er the way,
Sat a baby one day,
All alone and so one one seem'd to care,
But one passer by,
Turn'd and look'd with a sigh,
At the tears and the eyes swollen red,
Then close to her breast,
The young darling she press'd,
And tenderly to her she said,
[CHORUS]
Won't you come over to my house,
Won't you come over and play,
I've lots of playthings, a dolly or two
We live in the house 'cross the way,
I'll give you candy and sweet things,
I'll put your hair in a curl,
Won't you come over to my house,
And play that you're my little girl.
Perhaps you don't know,
That not long ago,
These toys I am giving to you,
Were my little girls,
Yes, my one little Pearl's,
And her eyes were like yours, large and blue,
But one night I found,
That the angels came 'round,
And they took her way up to the sky,
So don't stay away,
But come over each day,
Or you'll make your new Mama cry,
The title is: Won't you come over to my house
Written: 1906
Words by Harry H. Williams (1872-1922)
Music by Egbert Van Alstyne (1882-1951)
The time was in June,
The bees humm'd a tune
The perfume of rose fill'd the air,
When just o'er the way,
Sat a baby one day,
All alone and so one one seem'd to care,
But one passer by,
Turn'd and look'd with a sigh,
At the tears and the eyes swollen red,
Then close to her breast,
The young darling she press'd,
And tenderly to her she said,
[CHORUS]
Won't you come over to my house,
Won't you come over and play,
I've lots of playthings, a dolly or two
We live in the house 'cross the way,
I'll give you candy and sweet things,
I'll put your hair in a curl,
Won't you come over to my house,
And play that you're my little girl.
Perhaps you don't know,
That not long ago,
These toys I am giving to you,
Were my little girls,
Yes, my one little Pearl's,
And her eyes were like yours, large and blue,
But one night I found,
That the angels came 'round,
And they took her way up to the sky,
So don't stay away,
But come over each day,
Or you'll make your new Mama cry,
The title is: Won't you come over to my house
Written: 1906
Words by Harry H. Williams (1872-1922)
Music by Egbert Van Alstyne (1882-1951)
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