Dancing with Myself

So. I’ve been trying for a few weeks now, to start a sort of collaborative group with some friends of mine. We want to write parodies, and then maybe comic songs that are not parodies, and then, maybe, one day, actual songs. Which is, I think, the least likely of the aforementioned events–but who knows? There are services that will notate your rubbish, half-baked melody and semi-unique, half-decent lyrics, if you cannot write music yourself. We’ve maybe got a chance.

The trouble is, every time I sit down to write a thing with someone, it never seems to pan out. So far, the following has happened several times: someone else gives me a line, I either take it as is or reword it slightly, I go away, and I come back an hour later with a really cute, fully-formed parody (one of which made it onto Facebook, and everyone loved it and praised me accordingly). All of which is great; none of which is collaboration, in the truest sense of the word.

When the Monty Python guys were writing, there was always one left out (I don’t recall which one). But basically, there were 2 pairings who wrote together a lot, and the 5th one was forever banging the, “Why will no one write with me?” drum, all the while churning out comparable stuff to the rest of the guys… but alone. I remember hearing that when I was a teenager, and thinking how sad, how lonely, that seemed. (At that point, I had a parody buddy–and we were shit-hot. 2-3 parodies a week, every week, about half written separately, and about half together. That was the life.)

But now… somehow I can’t seem to find another parody buddy. I’ve gone from being the girl *everyone* could write with (truly, I could work with anyone) to being someone who can write with maybe one of the others in our little group. Don’t get me wrong, my work is still solid–you set me a task, you can bank on something so good you’ll wish you’d written it yourself–and I’m fairly prolific, but… what’s happened to the collaborative aspect of all this? Am I out of practice? Am I just too old, now? Has my brain lost enough plasticity that I can no longer mould myself to the cadences and quirks of another?

Is it simply that I grew up in the States, and all my friends now are British, and we lack the shared history for in-jokes that are universally relatable, and the context to frame them in?

Whatever the reason, it’s a sorry state of affairs when being in a group only makes me feel more alone.

Oh, wait. That’s just life as I know it.


Back to Sex and Boys (and Rock ‘n’ Roll?)

The time has officially come for me to stop crying over spoilt ballot papers and move back into more pleasing territory. I’ve been hovering around the edge of the Cliff of Mental Unwellness since the election results, and I can’t cope with it anymore. If I don’t find *something* else to talk about, I’ll wind up back on various medications, and I can really do without that… so I need something that’s guaranteed to make me smile.

So, men it is.

Nah, not really. But a little bit. Lemme tell you the tale.

So, I’ve got 2 fellas, we all know that. (Do we? All of us? Moving on.) The newest development, in the grand scheme of things, is that 1 of them is thinking about setting up a singing group with some of our other friends… and while I don’t sing–ever–in public or for public consumption, I *do* occasionally knock a line or two together for a friend (ta for that line, Bernie Taupin) and sometimes, I do it in the form of a parody. And while I’m no Weird Al, every so often, I put together something that’s actually a little bit good.

The thought of writing parodies for an actual singing group, of being involved creatively in some sort of collaborative writing, again… it makes the juices flow.

The creative ones, natch. Not talking about any other juices. Nope, not me, no way.

But while we’re on the subject, the vocal group (assuming it actually forms) will be a mostly-male group. (Do I count as a member, if all I do is shift rewritten lyrics and encouragement their way? Who knows.)

And who cares? Even if I were completely uninvolved, I think it would not tax me in any way, to go and watch a group of my mates (mostly male, did I mention…) doing the thing I find most attractive in the world, aka singing. Especially since they really make such an attractive group of lads anyway–and lads is about right. Not a one of them is older than me, and at least one is *significantly* younger. Like, really much younger. Like, in a would-it-be-funny-to-parody-Maggie-May, type of younger.

That sounds like a good idea, actually. Best get crackin’, then.

This is going to be so much fun.