The conversation about who is special is something i struggle with. With or without the meds. Who is special? As in “If everyone is special then noone truly is”. As in if you’re famous – your special. As in if “they” know your face, you are a “star”. That is the conversation that keeps me up at night – but one that is very taboo to write about. Because it’s a bit like feeling sorry for yourself, OK not just a bit. But so what? Why does anyone want to be a star, or a superstar? To feel special.

So here is a very unapologetic, self indulgent, bitter song that actually made me feel a little better after writing it. I’m never sure if I should share these kinds of songs with the world – or if I absolutely SHOULD share these songs. Just for a little insight into a old bitter musician who went off her meds. ENJOY!

You can listen here http://www.girlmuse.com/listen.html
I Faded Out by Lydia Brownfield

I faded out
The glass was painted so thin
And the fortunes fill the hands of only the special
blowing in the wind
Leaving us to fend.

An image on my wall
frozen there in fear
A light may shine but not seen now
It’s pretty dark in here
It’s pretty dark in here.

No glorious thunderous fire
Or waving victorious flags
No bbq’s or stories passed down
for our children’s muse
for our children’s children’s muse

There’s no real defeat
in a languid century lie
Where the envious kill and curl their watering mouths
and turn into a smile
though empty and hollow disguised.

No glorious thunderous fire
Or waving victorious flags
No bbq’s or stories passed down
for our children’s muse
for our children’s children’s muse.

When I lived in NYC I lived for a time across the Polaski Bridge. It was a long walk across it to the subway – especially in JANUARY! I sort of felt like The City really didn’t want me to be there – or maybe my skin just wasn’t thick enough :) either way, it was hard. So this is a little song about it:

You can listen to it here: www.myspace.com/lydiabrownfield.

My Paradise

What are you doing here?
Why is your smile still on
You ain’t no volunteer
You know you don’t belong
You’ve got to know your place
Your skin in way too soft
Just pack up all your things
And take that costume off

You’re not my paradise
You’re not my piece of mind
You’re not my final stop
You’re not my one of a kind
You’re not my turning point
You’re not my worlds collide
You’re not my straight line
You’re not my one-way ride

I see straight into her
just try avoid her eyes
She’ll turn you into stone
She’ll make you realize
There aint no happy place
No once upon a time
There aint no rainbow
no bottom line

And when the waters rise
I feel your shady gaze
Trick me with your lies
Trick me with your maze
You were everything I lost
Not an easy thing to say
Now you’re just a bridge I cross
Every single day

The water keeps the
wind fierce here.

Enjoy your Sunday!!!
LB

CHECK IT OUT:
www.girlmuse.com

Let me know what you think.

so, I am going to give this blogging thing a go. I have to be honest with you though, I’m a little nervous about it. My hands are actually sweating! The pressure to be funny, clever and smart and sarcastic in all the right places, to say something actually WORTH saying. There are LOTS of things people say that they really should NOT say. and there are so many FUNNY blogs, like this one for example: www.backboneracing.blogspot.com

who am I to think that I have ANYTHING at all worth saying? Not to mention something that someone else may find remotely interesting? Seriously – I expect you to skim over this with a sort of glazed ho hum and move along about the internet in your search for something interesting. I am so sorry I could not provide it. Really. I am.

So with that i have to say, I make no promises on being funny. Or smart for that matter. I won’t even attempt clever. I have a VERY hard time writing ANYTHING down that someone may see or read. It’s already taken me 2 hours to write this much – I’m not kidding. I write, then delete, write it, delete it – UGH, COME ON! just write it already!

I guess all of the above is why i became a songwriter.

So this is my songwriting challenge to myself. CAN I WRITE? Just write. Nothing clever. Just write. So, you’re thinking, if it’s not clever or funny or smart or witty WHY OH WHY would you even WANT to write it down? That’s a good question. But I think I actually have a lot to say. I think. Maybe. If I could actually let my brain get my fingers to type it out and not delete it. My rule is going to be that i have to write something everyday. I think that’s doable. Sort of a journal – just to start with…and if the phobia goes away on it’s own and I can actually have words FLOW out on the page without having to PRY them out with a fucking fork then maybe this will turn into something a little less painful and a little more fun. for everyone.

Plus, I don’t really want to go see a shrink for Graphophobia or Scriptophobia, so I’ll give this a try first.

Enjoy! (whoo!! that took me about 2 and a half hours. we’re off to a good start)

LB