A Friendly Musical Visit Every Day

I borrowed this Music for Mindfulness album from my local library, because my sister advised me to. I've been angry and anxious and out-of-control hormonal lately. I know she's been seeing a therapist for anxiety for a number of years, so I begged for advice. I'm tired of my own outbursts. I'm sick of starting arguments with my partner. I want to be able to leave the house without worrying what kind of altercation I'll involve myself in today. I want to feel better than this. When I asked my sister what to do, she said mindfulness might help. So I've been sitting with this album, breathing into the music. What I need to do in order to keep my thoughts from creeping in is think, with every breath, "In. Out."  This started out, long ago, as, "This is my in breath. This is my out breath." But I found, over time, that In & Out are enough to keep me focused on breathing. This track sounded awfully familiar. I knew it was movie music. Whe

Yesterday I talked about spending some nights away from my partner so I can record audio.  Audiobooks are pretty much the only revenue stream I've got that is seeing an uptick.  I'm sure I've got over a thousand ebooks and paperbacks on the market, but sales are constantly dwindling. I need to produce audio. It's a huge part of making money. And I need money to put food on the table. So here we are. Since my partner and I are still in our honeymoon period, I actually enjoy being around him. I'm sure this impulse will fade over time, but right now I'm gaga for the guy. Which makes it hard for me to convince myself to spend nights away from him in order to work. The business owner in me keeps saying, "Work! Work! You need to work!"  But the doe-eyed newlywed in me gets this song stuck in its head.  "Why work when you can play? Make hay while the sun is shining!" Then I think: Imagine if I had an office job and I treated it that way? "

I've lived alone for something like 20 years. That's more than enough time to get set in your ways. For a long while, I thought I could never get used to sharing my space with another human. And then I actually tried it. My partner has his own apartment and I have mine, but we spend most of our days and nights together. Sometimes we're at his place, sometimes we're at mine. But, in order to keep my cats happy and also get some audiobook recording done, there are some nights I need to spend here on my own. I hate it. I hate being alone now. For years, alone is all I ever wanted to be. Now?  I've started putting a pillow on my partner's side of the bed so it feels like he's there next to me. Any time we're not together, I'm miserable. My mood dips. My mental health suffers. It's true--he brings the light. He is my sunshine. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and visits every day, the easiest thing you

I woke up with this song in my head this morning. It reminds me of a birthday party I shared with one of my sisters, as a kid. I have a number of siblings, but this sister and I have birthdays that are practically on top of each other. Thus, we shared almost all of our birthday parties. It just so happened that all her friends were the sisters of all my friends, so it actually made a lot of sense to combine our parties. Anyway, one year we had a party in our unfinished basement. All I remember about it is that we limboed on bare concrete. Good times! Oh, and this song was playing all the while. If you watch this video closely, you'll notice footage from our party spliced in. (Kidding! We were never as cool as those hep cats. heh) If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and visits every day, the easiest thing you can do is tell your friends about the site. Tell anyone you know--particularly people who are isolated and enjoy music. Readers of a

It's two in the afternoon as I write this, and I've just put on a pot of coffee.  I need to stay up late tonight. I'm trying hard to finish recording the audio version of my book Ariadne's Diary. I want to wrap that project before my mother's surgery, which is coming up soon.  I just don't know how much time I'll be able to devote to work while my mom is in recovery. My partner's coffeemaker just went kaput, so I gave him the old one I've had stored in my broom closet for the past 15 years. When I pulled it out, I remembered how long I've actually had that cheap and very ugly contraption: I bought it as a teenager. We didn't have a coffeemaker in the house where I grew up.  Nobody drank coffee (until I did). My father drank tea.  My mother didn't drink anything. But then the 90s happened and coffee was a big thing, and so I got myself addicted to the stuff. That cheap-ass coffeemaker still works perfectly, by the way. This Sarah

Yesterday I mentioned that I have concrete memories of watching Smothers Brothers in the 80s. Maybe I'm remembering this performance? I wonder if it was broadcast on PBS.  Looks like it might have been, and my father was a huge fan of those pledge drive concerts they used to air--and still do. I specifically remember John Denver, The Mamas and The Papas... so many concerts. My father struggled a lot, in life. At times, he was a fun and attentive dad who took us on bike rides. Other times, he was vicious and violent. I hated him for years--and with good reason--but he's been dead for a long time, now, and the hatred has faded into a kind of understanding. Even camaraderie? Hard to say that about an abuser, but I see now that music helped my father through a lot of his mental and emotional anguish. Music does that for me, too. It has only just occurred to me, in this very moment we're sharing, that, although I probably inherited some of my mental health issues from my fat

Okay, since I tortured you with Heavenly Aeroplane yesterday (unless you enjoyed that song--in which case: YOU'RE WELCOME), here comes a trippy little palate cleanser for you. A different kind of airplane.  (This one's made out of people... much like Soylent Green). Different spelling, too. God, this is a great song.  This performance is from Smothers Brothers, which I remember watching as a kid even though I'm sure it went off the air before I was born. Anyway, I have very clear memories of Tommy Smothers doing yo-yo tricks. Sing along.  It's so very satisfying. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and visits every day, the easiest thing you can do is tell your friends about the site. Tell anyone you know--particularly people who are isolated and enjoy music. Readers of adult fiction can also buy my books or check them out from your local library. Supporting my  AudioErotica  endeavour on  Patreon  would also help me hugely!

This song popped into my head out of nowhere, and I feel inclined to share it with the world even though I also feel a little guilty for doing so--guilty, because all I'm going to do is trash it... and I hate to yuck someone else's yum. Judging by the number of choral performances of this little ditty on YouTube, there must be people in the world who enjoy Heavenly Aeroplane.  I just don't happen to be one of them.  No, I shouldn't say that.  There is a level on which I am amused by this number.  I remember singing it in choir, as a young person, and thinking, "This has got to be the stupidest song ever written!" It strikes me as the kind of desperate measure older people resort to when they want to get the youths of today interested in Jesus. I mean, "Talk about your joyrides in automobiles..." that's how the hip young people speak, right? By the way, the actual young people singing this song do a great job of it. No complaints there! I do

I heard this gorgeous viola sonata while washing the dishes last night. I wash, my partner dries. I turned to him as soon as it started and said, "Sounds like fiery Vaughan Williams!" He was more interested in the fact that the radio host had just informed us that this sonata was on its way to winning some big prize (I should have taken notes, sorry) when the composer, Rebecca Clarke, was booted from the competition--for being a woman.  That was in the nineteen-teens. Full disclosure: until I heard this sonata on the radio, I'd never even heard whispers of Rebecca Clarke.  I fell in love instantly. That's why I'm sharing it with you. p.s. According to YouTube, our violist is 16 years old! Wow. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and visits every day, the easiest thing you can do is tell your friends about the site. Tell anyone you know--particularly people who are isolated and enjoy music. Readers of adult fiction can al

As you (possibly) know, I schedule these posts in advance so they'll get to you at a consistent hour every day.  When I'm mired in depression, it's really important to me that things be consistent.  So here I am, being consistent. But the reason I mention scheduling in advance is that I'm writing this post on "Blue Monday," the saddest day of the year--although I once heart that there's no actual scientific basis to the assignation. You can be blue any goddamn day you like, friends. All the power to you. I must admit, though, I had no idea it was Blue Monday until this evening... after my partner and I both got home to tell each other about our terrible, terrible days. He's super-bummed, and his sadness is making me sad. On top of that, my perimenopausal rage is going full tilt. Watch out! Whoa. I read an article that said perimenopause can last 10-13 years. The next decade is not going to be fun for anyone around me. If you're wondering h

I've already written about seeing A Tribe Called Red live this summer, so you can read that post here if you missed it before. It's pretty funny. I'll just leave this stellar music video here for you to watch. I tend to listen to each song of the day on repeat while I'm writing the post, but I started early on this one. I can't stop listening. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and visits every day, the easiest thing you can do is tell your friends about the site. Tell anyone you know--particularly people who are isolated and enjoy music. Readers of adult fiction can also buy my books or check them out from your local library. Supporting my  AudioErotica  endeavour on  Patreon  would also help me hugely! I'm also an  Amazon Influencer,  so hopefully I can make a little pocket change when you buy stuff by clicking through  my affiliate links . But you don't HAVE to do any of that. I'm very happy to get a dai

Yesterday's song was pretty hopeful. Today's? Not so much. "The Pharaohs" is my favourite track from the album Middle Cyclone , and that's saying something-- Middle Cyclone has got the song Prison Girls going for it. In fact, Middle Cyclone is one of my all-time favourite albums.  There's no dross here.  Only quality tracks.  And they fit together.  That's what I look for in an album: cohesive tone and no filler. Two days ago we listened to "It's Raining Men." Men, men, as far as the eye can see.  Yesterday it was "Holding Out For A Hero." No quality men yet, but still hope that one will rear his head. In "The Pharaohs" we've got a man... but he's no hero. This song suggests there are no heroes.  Only men. And the man in this song isn't the greatest, from the sounds of it. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and visits every day, the easiest thing you can do is tell

Yesterday we listened to a fabulous number called "It's Raining Men." Maybe you're familiar? Today's song is similarly expressive, except that, instead of celebrating a bountiful harvest of eligible bachelors, the singer is bemoaning a dearth of them.  She's got hope, though--I'll give her that.  She just hasn't found a guy who meets her standards. And she's not going to betray those standards for any useless schlub. She needs a hero. But the REAL reason I chose "Holding Out for a Hero" today is that it appears on the Footloose soundtrack.  Somehow, I never got around to telling you about watching Footloose on New Year's Eve.  And you thought I told you everything! Well, I do.  I was just a tad delayed in relaying this tale. My partner and I actually went out for New Year's Eve.  For me, it was the first time going out since Y2K.  As we were getting ready, Footloose came on TV. I'd never seen it. My partner hadn't

When I searched yesterday's song of the day (Wings' "Let 'Em In") on YouTube, this tune showed up in my results. And am I ever glad it did!  Even though I know this song well (it is a gay anthem, after all) and I watched music videos incessantly in the 80s, I had never before seen this particular video. It is spectacular. This video might just be my favourite of all comedic music videos.  It's funny at every turn. The bad green screen, the skit to start it out, the trench coats, the visit to heaven, the heart-shaped bed... it's got everything you could possible want. (Plus, I just found out Paul Shaffer co-wrote It's Raining Men. I learn so much curating this blog!) Enjoy. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and visits every day, the easiest thing you can do is tell your friends about the site. Tell anyone you know--particularly people who are isolated and enjoy music. Readers of adult fiction can also bu

I sat down to write a chapter of the book I'm currently working on--Fortune's Diary, the 5th in my Lesbian Diaries series . Two hundred words in, I wrote "My mother was knocking at my door," and this song immediately popped into my head. So, of course, I had to take a break from writing to listen to it. Last night, I was telling my partner that writing feels like work. It is work--it's what I do for a living--but it FEELS like work.  I'm not complaining. I've had many jobs in my life, and there's not a single one I'd choose over writing, as a career, but I've been writing professionally for 14 years. That's two 7-year itches. In the same breath, I told my partner that maintaining my music site--the one you're visiting right now--doesn't feel like work at all.  It feels like play. Thanks for letting me play with you. (?) And thank you for coming here every day to play with me. (???) If you're wondering how you can sup

Today's song is a nice counterpart to yesterday's "Finally." They're both about finding true love. Finally. Strangely enough, that's not why I selected "I'm A Believer" today.  I selected it this song because my partner just finished cutting my hair for the first time.  I often cut his hair, so it's only fair. The thing I found particularly amusing was that I'd earlier asked him to braid my hair.  His response was, "I... don't think I know how to do that."  And yet, when I asked him to CUT my hair, he was like, "Sure!" Umm... you do realize a braid unravels and a haircut doesn't? Anyway, he did a great job. I'm very pleased. But I've been cutting my own hair for the past few years, so letting someone else do it is a huge relief. Once he'd finished cutting my hair, my partner said, "I feel just like Warren Beatty in SHAMPOO !" I'm not exactly a movie buff, but I have seen th

Music from the late 80s/early 90s seems to appeal to many of the visitors here on the blog. I couldn't be more pleased, because this was a formative time period for me, musically.  In other ways, too, but I find myself gravitating more and more to this music.  Every time a song (like this one) hits me square in the nostalgia centre, I look it up and it's from 1989, 1990, or 1991. Those were the years I spent taping my favourite Much Music videos onto videocassettes plastered with music note stickers, so it makes senses. I don't think the me I was thirty years ago would ever have envisioned life shaping up as it has done. I don't think the me I was three years ago would have. I've got to admit, being so strongly identified as queer and then falling hard for a straight man is a little... a little what?  I don't know if there's a word for it.  Part of me feels like I'm betraying my people for settling down with someone who's not trans or non-bin

Last month, rook&nomie put out a new album called " me&you ." I keep trying to listen to it, but I can't get past this track. I just keep listening to it over and over again. Maybe one day I'll listen to the rest of the album. But not today. Today I'm hooked on "azure paler than the sky." Do as I say, not as I do. Head on over to https://rookandnomie.bandcamp.com and stream the holy hell out of me&you . Buy now ! (I wish I could push my own books as hard as I push other people's music! But, alas, the critically low self-esteem gets in the way...) If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and visits every day, the easiest thing you can do is tell your friends about the site. Tell anyone you know--particularly people who are isolated and enjoy music. Readers of adult fiction can also buy my books or check them out from your local library. Supporting my  AudioErotica  endeavour on  Patreon  would also

I have so many associations with this song I don't even know where to begin. My sister tells me that, when we were kids, I insisted on renting Little Shop of Horrors for a sleepover we were having with my friend and her friend (who were also sisters, as luck would have it). I don't remember this at all, but my sister claims that her friend got so scared she had to call her mom to come pick her up. So I ruined the sleepover. My sister will never forgive me for this. I have extremely vague memories of playing the role of some variety of tropical flora in a summer camp production of Little Shop of Horrors . Wish I could tell you more, but this was a ridiculously long time ago. More recently, I do recall Suddenly Seymour coming on during an episode of The Goldbergs . Naturally, I started singing along--belting the tune, because it's one of my favourite numbers. Of course, an ex who was trying to wriggle back into my life chose that moment to slip a love letter through my

Last week, an interview about Black queer and trans representation popped up on my Twitter feed. That was my introduction to TRP.P and it got me thinking about how Twitter is where I found out about ALL the trans musicians I listen to regularly. We're talking about some of my favourite artists, some of the groups I feature most often on this site, the ones whose albums I listen to on the subway... ...the ones whose music I have never heard on the radio... Although this right here is a CBC performance, so maybe I'm just not tuned in to the right stations. Here's the interview I mentioned: Toronto-based @weareTRPP discuss why Black, queer, trans representation in R&B and hip hop matters pic.twitter.com/ua3afs5vJy — Xtra (@XtraMagazine) January 3, 2020 If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and visits every day, the easiest thing you can do is tell your friends about the site. Tell anyone you know--particularly people who are

Yesterday I talked about how I think of "partner" as a predominantly queer term, so today we listen to a giddily queer song from the band Partner. Always puts a smile on my face, this one. Reminds me of the girl in my Grade 9 gym class I would always try (and fail) not to sneak a peek at in the change room. She had the body of a pin-up. And she smoked! She was the first person I knew who was my age and smoked. Such a bad girl. So naughty. So crush-worthy. At lunch hour, she used to walk to the donut shop on the corner and buy lunch there. That's where the smokers ate. This was back when you could smoke in restaurants. (I have a sister 10 years my junior who doesn't believe me when I tell her you could still smoke in restaurants when I was in high school--and university.) I always brought my lunch to school, but sometimes I'd walk by that donut shop and see my gym class crush through the plate glass window.  I'd sigh and walk on by... If you'

I was listening to the radio just now and someone called in--which, as Kent Brockman once said, was strange because "this isn't a call-in show"--to make a song request. She wanted to send out a Happy Birthday song to her partner. The exchange was kind of funny, because when the radio host asked which song, she was like, "I don't know. You pick something." They eventually settled on this one. When the radio host asked for the girl's partner's name, so he could say who the song was going out to, I listened a little more closely. Because, see, when I hear the word "partner," I automatically assume this is a queer relationship. And it was. Her partner was a girl. I refer to my person as "my partner" and he's not a girl. And I don't know if that's confusing. And I don't even remember why I started referring to him that way. It might have even come from my mom. She always referred to Sweet as my partner, even tho

When I was scheduling yesterday's post, I mentioned to my partner that I'd never heard of Billy Joe Royal. He said, "Billy Joe Royal did the most popular cover of Down in the Boondocks. It was a Ry Cooder song, though." I looked it up, and turns out Down in the Boondocks was in fact written by Joe South... ... who also wrote... ...wait for it... ROSE GARDEN! There is no escape from the rose garden! We must remain here forever! Someone should write a book about this--a corn maze constructed of rose bushes, and every time you think you're out, you realize you're still at its centre and it's far more expansive than you'd ever imagined. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and visits every day, the easiest thing you can do is tell your friends about the site. Tell anyone you know--particularly people who are isolated and enjoy music. Readers of adult fiction can also buy my books or check them out from y

Haha! And you thought we were done with rose gardens. We are not!  When I looked into it, I discovered that the popular Lynn Anderson version we heard yesterday was in fact a cover of this baby from the 60s. I don't know about you, but that album cover reminds me of my childhood. I'm not sure if my father had this particular record, but he certainly had a lot that looked like it. Well, there we have it. We're done with rose gardens. Or are we...? Yes, we are. OR... ARE... WE...? If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and visits every day, the easiest thing you can do is tell your friends about the site. Tell anyone you know--particularly people who are isolated and enjoy music. Readers of adult fiction can also buy my books or check them out from your local library. Supporting my  AudioErotica  endeavour on  Patreon  would also help me hugely! I'm also an  Amazon Influencer,  so hopefully I can make a little pocket change

This "Rose Garden" rabbit hole we've fallen down is spanning days. After Shad's Rose Garden yesterday, we now visit the Grand Ol' Opry to hear the country music version that started it all. I think. I'm not totally sure. Maybe there were rose garden songs before this one. Dare I investigate? How many days of my life will be spent tracking down rose garden songs on YouTube? Only time will tell... If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and visits every day, the easiest thing you can do is tell your friends about the site. Tell anyone you know--particularly people who are isolated and enjoy music. Readers of adult fiction can also buy my books or check them out from your local library. Supporting my  AudioErotica  endeavour on  Patreon  would also help me hugely! I'm also an  Amazon Influencer,  so hopefully I can make a little pocket change when you buy stuff by clicking through  my affiliate links . But you do

Every time I hear yesterday's track (Wash Your Face In My Sink), I immediately look up this Shad video. You can probably guess why: Wash Your Face contains the lyrics "I didn't promise you a rose garden." I love this song. I love this video. I wish I had something more interesting to say about it, but I don't. Let's just listen and watch and enjoy. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and visits every day, the easiest thing you can do is tell your friends about the site. Tell anyone you know--particularly people who are isolated and enjoy music. Readers of adult fiction can also buy my books or check them out from your local library. Supporting my  AudioErotica  endeavour on  Patreon  would also help me hugely! I'm also an  Amazon Influencer,  so hopefully I can make a little pocket change when you buy stuff by clicking through  my affiliate links . But you don't HAVE to do any of that. I'm very happy t

I know we just listened to a Dream Warriors track, but this one puts a smile on my face every time I hear it. I have no trivia to share regarding the song. I just like it is all. Fair warning, though: there's a lyric that will send us down a week-long rabbit hole. Which lyric will that be? I suspect you might be able to guess, but be sure to visit again tomorrow to find out for sure. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and visits every day, the easiest thing you can do is tell your friends about the site. Tell anyone you know--particularly people who are isolated and enjoy music. Readers of adult fiction can also buy my books or check them out from your local library. Supporting my  AudioErotica  endeavour on  Patreon  would also help me hugely! I'm also an  Amazon Influencer,  so hopefully I can make a little pocket change when you buy stuff by clicking through  my affiliate links . But you don't HAVE to do any of that. I'm

You're going to tell me this is the wrong time of year for Danse Macabre, aren't you? It's a Halloween song. Not a song for the New Year. But Danse Macabre has been dancing through my brain since my partner drove me out to the bench where my family has arranged for a plaque in memory of my grandmother.  The bench looks out over a cliff, which looks out over the lake. The day we went to see it, there were waves on that water like I'd never seen. The setting wasn't dark and stormy, as you might imagine.  The sun was shining. The birds were chirping. There wasn't even a breeze that I could make out. Only these waves, these huge waves crashing to shore.  They put me in mind of this piece by Camille Saint-Saëns--of the roar of life and the roar of death and the possibility of peaceful eternity. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and visits every day, the easiest thing you can do is tell your friends about the site. Tell an

A grocery flyer came through my mail slot today. Across the top, it said: BACK TO ROUTINE. As soon as I read that, this song jumped into my head. I've been listening to it ever since. Over the holidays, visitors to this site dropped drastically. It worried me, I must admit. But the moment this BACK TO ROUTINE grocery flyer entered my apartment, visitors magically returned to the blog. What a relief. I guess we're all settling back into our usual routines--whether that means buying bananas or paying daily visits to a certain music blog. If you've been away, I'm pleased to welcome you back.  Thanks for coming. I genuinely enjoy producing these little posts for you each and every day.  I hope you'll continue to return all year long. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and visits every day, the easiest thing you can do is tell your friends about the site. Tell anyone you know--particularly people who are isolated and enjoy

I could have sworn I'd posted this track before, but it didn't come up when I ran a search so frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! (as my partner would say--yes, he is a grown-up Martin Prince), we get to listen to it now. If you're not familiar with this jazz rap 90s tune from Toronto hip hop duo Dream Warriors, you're likely to recognize the sample that runs throughout from Austin Powers. If you're not familiar with it from Austin Powers, you might remember it as the theme song from the Canadian game show Definition , which ran from 1974 until 1989--and was filmed in my hometown of Scarborough, Ontario. In fact, it's a Quincy Jones number called Soul Bossa Nova. Enjoy My Definition of a Boombastic Jazz Style. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and visits every day, the easiest thing you can do is tell your friends about the site. Tell anyone you know--particularly people who are isolated and enjoy music. Readers of adult

I'm sure you're sick of New Years posts already (and it's not even noon, my time), so instead of discussing anything New Yearsy, I'm going to tell you about a great shopping hack I figured out at my local supermarket. Okay, I guess this isn't a hack.  It's just something I stumbled upon. But it made me very happy. See, I love salmon, but salmon is expensive. One time I went over to the fish counter at my supermarket to see if they had any clearance priced at 50% off.  They didn't, but what they did have were salmon... collars?  I think that's what they're called.  I think I saw that on a cooking show once.  Thing is, they're not coded that way at the store.  They're coded (and priced) as... FISH HEADS. There are never any actual fish heads in the pack--just those deliciously fatty pieces of salmon that fry up so good you could eat them all night long. And I can afford them because they're priced as... I'm also going to t