DAY ONE-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FIVE

Emily Factoid #456: Sometimes when I do a song I like to keep the headphones on as I type so the mic can pick up the clicking of the keys.  That’s what’s happening right now as I’m typing.  Okay.  Stopping.  Now.

I had a friend once a long time ago who was very wonderfully strange.  My other friends never really got to meet her because I didn’t know her for very long… a friend-summer romance… you know those?  The friendships that come at you like a bowling ball and then leave you like Danica Patrick at NASCAR.  In any case, it was a huge impact on me, and I still think of her from time to time, and she shows up in my songs every now and then.

This is a sketch of her that I need to make longer and revisit with a bridge.  I call her Edie because, unrelated to my friend, I knew a really awesome-kinda-crazy-awesome lady named Edie once: she always wore sunglasses, even inside buildings, and fashioned every day for herself an enormous beehive hair-do.  Oh, Edie…I liked Edie.

Lyrics are based on a word salad technique I got from Jocelyn: mainly improvisatory.  I have been listening to war-era radio recently.  I heard a song the other day that was a repetitive call and response sort of… I can’t remember the song, but the genre was heavily used in the kind of new “pop-folk” that was integrating the scene at the time.

This is first take!  Why worry about it!?  Bless you, my child; hope your day is fantastical!

Edie Disappearing