A Friendly Musical Visit Every Day

I figured I should bring you a spooky song for Halloween, but instead I'm just bringing you a song called Spooky. Enjoy! If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) 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 . I also recommend subscribing to my newsletter. I generally e-mail subscribers with a weekly update, and I would LOVE to have you on the list.  Click here to sign up:  http://eepurl.com/R4b11 See you soon! Giselle

I've got a thousand errands to run. Instead, I'm lying on the couch watching ghost shows. The homeowner on the one that's currently on is named Shelly Ann, which made me think of this song. I have enough trouble leaving the house. That's always a problem for me. But the other day I learned that, while we were out of town, a pedestrian was struck and killed by a vehicle right on my street. We went for a walk the other night and came across bouquets of flowers tied to a pole. I looked at my partner and said, "Someone must have died here." When we got home, I did a quick search. The incident was just so horrible, and really hit home for me. Since then, I haven't left my apartment. Anxiety has been an issue for years, but now I have this excuse: someone died, through no fault of their own, 200 feet from my front door. I don't what it'll take to get me out of here. I am so sad and scared. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringi

Remember fifteen years ago, when a compilation album named after this song was the hottest thing on the indie scene? I always equate that album with the Sufjan Stevens song "You Are the Blood," but that has already been our song of the day. I had a rough night, last night. Couldn't sleep. The other day I watched a video about how sleeping position can contribute to neck pain, so I was trying to sleep better. I sleep on my stomach (my partner does, too--on his own stomach, that is. He doesn't sleep on mine) and that is just the worst way to sleep, according to the professionals. But my pillow was too hard and I couldn't get comfortable and I kept moving to the couch, then back to bed. I might have gotten 3 hours of sleep. I was still lying uncomfortably in bed when my partner left for a dental appointment. By the time I rolled out, it was 8:30 in the morning and dark as the night. Rain and fog. No light coming in. Pain in my head, pain in my neck. Very dizzy.

A couple weeks ago, I fell down a pretty deep Sesame Street rabbit hole. That's when I discovered that Sesame Street made a disco album with Robin Gibb.  This song is from that album. It caught hold of me because that day I'd been thinking about a family friend who died a couple years ago. I mentioned him in a previous post. What I didn't mention about him is that he was a hoarder. Like, big-time hoarder. He took great pride in his garden, but if you looked at it as an outsider, you would think: it's full of junk. That's all junk. Every room in his house was piled floor to ceiling with boxes of things. The hallways each had a narrow route you could squeeze through, but they were also piled high with stuff. Because their house presented so many dangers, their daughter-in-law would not allow their grandchildren to visit. This was heartbreaking for the hoarder, but even more so for his wife, because the hoard was not hers. In a previous post, I told you about th

You probably heard that Richard Roundtree, the actor who played Shaft, died the other day. I've lost track of how many times I've listened to Isaac Hayes' theme from the film since I heard the news. Hard to believe Isaac Hayes himself died fifteen years ago. Where does the time go? If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) 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 . I also recommend subscribing to my newsletter. I generally e-mail subscribers with a weekly update, and I would LOVE to have you on the list.  Click here to sign up:  http://eepurl.com/R4b11 See you soon! Giselle

Last night I dreamed that my partner and I were consulting with a pharmacist. She was suggesting different board games and puzzles for us, and then she asked my partner what his favourite song was. He said, "It's that song Hey, Stupid!" The pharmacist was like hmmmm not sure I know that tune. So I asked him, "Do you mean Bennie and the Jets?" And he was like yeah, that's the one. In the dream, I just got the sense that he was mishearing those first lyrics "Hey, kids" as "Hey, stupid." Now... none of this is based in real life. Bennie and the Jets is not my partner's favourite song. It's definitely a song known for its mondegreens ("She's got electric boobs--her mom has, too") but I've never known anyone to refer to this tune as "Hey, Stupid!" It's nice to bring you a lighthearted post, I must say. My physical and mental health are getting worse by the day, and the more pain I feel in my body

I have written hundreds of short stories in my years as a writer. Today I was putting together a collection of paranormal shorts for Halloween. One of them features a queer cupid. Naturally, this song popped into my head. As I listened to it just now, it occured to me that these are the kinds of songs I should be listening to when I'm deeply and desperately depressed: songs that are nostalgic for me, because I listened to them as a child, and songs that are upbeat and make me happily sing along instead of sinking down deeper into despair. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) 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 . I also recommend su

I am in so much pain I don't know how I'm even alive. My head hurts. My neck hurts. I would rather not be conscious, but here we are. We are in pain. You know how medical professionals ask you what your pain level is at and you're supposed to answer on a scale from zero to ten? When my partner took me to the emergency room last month, the hospital had a poster that sort of explained what those pain levels meant.  For ten, it said "Life is Pain." And, like, yeah. That's my life. Life is pain. I am never not in pain. It's not always a ten (in fact, it's rarely a ten--often it's hovering between six and eight), but pain is always present in a way that does not allow me to lead an anywhere close to normal life. Right now, I'm lying on a bed.  I'm almost always lying down. And I'm in severe pain. Chronic pain didn't enter my life until I was in my late 30s. Before that, I'd spent my entire adult life living with chronic mental h

I can't remember why it came up in conversation, but my partner asked me if I'd ever read The Lottery by Shirley Jackson . I hadn't. But I had just listened to a podcast where a fellow queer author talked about S hirley Jackson's "We Have Always Lived in the Castle" as her comfort book. It seemed a little coincidental, hearing two random mentions of Shirley Jackson in a matter of days, so I got this book out of the library. I just started reading it. It's sitting on the coffee table right now. Thing is, every time I look at the cover and see "Jackson," this song pops into my brain. Let me say, there are other Outkast songs I would MUCH rather have in my head, but this is the one I'm stuck with.  Sorry. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) or check them out from your local library.  Supporting my  AudioErotica  endeavou

The other day, I mentioned a dream I had that characterized marriage as being locked in a dull, dark room. Well, the next night I dreamed that I showed up at my aunt's cottage (my aunt doesn't have a cottage) with my wedding dress (I don't have a wedding dress). Clearly, marriage is bubbling around in my unconscious mind. I never wanted to get married, when I was young. Now... I'm not sure I have particularly strong feelings either way. If I lean toward wanting marriage in my life, it's more for practical (legal, financial, etc) reasons, at this point. My partner and I were both self-sufficient adults when we joined forces. I don't feel like we ever really "built" a life together. I still have my own home. He has his. His is better. We spent the summer at my place while he underwent daily cancer treatments in the city. I've never taken care of anyone as intensively as I've taken care of him, except when my siblings were young. We've kn

Sometimes I take walks alone in the evening. I like to walk after dark. Well, lucky for me, it's already dark by 7 p.m. these days, so I can listen to the 70s at 7 on my phone--that's a radio program where they play music from the 70s at 7 o'clock. Just thought I'd clarify. They play this song often, and I'm never mad to hear it. I've always loved this song, which I probably told you the first time it was our song of the day. This cover from BoJack Horseman is both evocative and lovely. I always tell my partner BoJack Horseman was the best show I'd never want him to watch, because he would get way too deep into the itchy existential angst it creates. I don't think I ever watched the final season, but I remember that as it came out season by season, I would always rewatch every episode that had been aired up to that point in preparation of the next chapter in these characters' journeys.  It was depressing as hell, but so was my life. If you'r

It's pretty unusual for my dreams to have a soundtrack, but last night's did. My dream was supposed to be some kind of TV show. I don't know whether it was a crime drama or what, but there was this couple and toward the end of the dream, some hucksters were encouraging them to enter this room. All the cool kids were doing it, that sort of thing. Go in the room. Just go in the room. When we, the viewers, saw inside the room, it was a dull, dark place. Other people were in there. Other couples, I'm guessing. They weren't being tortured or anything. That's what I'd imagined I was about to see: something really horrific. But it wasn't horrific. It was just quiet and boring. Sorry to provide way too much insight into my decimated psyche, but I think this dream was supposed to be about marriage. The narrator (my dreams don't usually have narrators, but this one did, being a TV show and all) kept mentioning engagement rings and proposals. Anyway, I wok

I know I'm having a difficult day when I find myself watching YouTube videos about Complex PTSD, which is a form of PTSD I have in spades. If you ever want to borrow some PTSD, I've got more than enough and I'm happy to share. Unfortunately, when I share my PTSD with other people, it's more like sharing my PTSD "at" other people, and basically what I'm saying is that it's an altercation. My life can get ugly, and I can feel ugly, and that's why I hide myself away most of the time. On days when I don't leave the house, it's either because of chronic illness, or it's because I'm afraid of how I might interact with other people out there in the world. Sometimes I hate the world.  Other times, I hate myself so much that I don't want to subject the world to... well, to ME. One of the YouTube people I was listening to today mentioned this song I'd never heard of by this band I'd never heard of. I immediately looked it up.

I've had a lot of bad pain days recently, and the depression sets in pretty fast. I start thinking about death, and I try to keep it to myself, because if I think about death aloud, my partner tends to spiral with me. It doesn't take much to get him mentally swirling toward the drain. I guess that's why I'm telling you this stuff instead of telling him. I've been thinking of a family friend who died a couple years ago. He died in that "perfect" way: he died in his sleep. He wasn't sick or anything. One night he just went to bed and he didn't wake up. But you know who did wake up? His wife, who was sleeping beside him. She woke up next to a man who wouldn't wake up. I really can't imagine. Dying in your sleep might be the perfect way of dying for the person who actually dies, but for the person who doesn't? It sounds both sad and terrifying. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the

I don't always understand why YouTube pitches me the videos it does. After I'd watched the Kathleen Edwards track we featured yesterday, YouTube decided that I would definitely want to watch Sha Na Na. At first, I didn't think I could get on board. And then I spent the next hour watching Sha Na Na videos. So maybe YouTube knows me better than I know myself. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) 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 . I also recommend subscribing to my newsletter. I generally e-mail subscribers with a weekly update, and I would LOVE to have you on the list.  Click here to sign up:  http://eepurl.com/R4b11 See

Yesterday I mentioned that I was trying to remember which song mentioned Marty McSorley. It's this song. This is the song. Maybe there are others, but this is the song I was thinking of. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) 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 . I also recommend subscribing to my newsletter. I generally e-mail subscribers with a weekly update, and I would LOVE to have you on the list.  Click here to sign up:  http://eepurl.com/R4b11 See you soon! Giselle

Yesterday I mentioned that my partner named a teddy bear after a hockey player. That hockey player was Auston Matthews. But it reminded me that my uncle once named a dog after Marty McSorley. (I've had to look up how to spell every name in this post. I am NOT well-versed in hockey player names.) Anyway, my partner and I were talking about this dog the other day, and I said to him, "There used to be a song that mentioned Marty McSorley." I thought it might be this one. It's not. I'll bring you the one I was thinking of tomorrow, but for now... there's this. (It's been probably a decade since I last heard this track, and I still love it.) If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) 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,

My partner is a grown-up person who happens to like teddy bears. When the process of diagnosing his cancer began, I bought him teddy bears for everything. Biopsy? You get a little teddy bear. Surgery? You get an even bigger teddy bear.  I kept giving him teddy bears until he told me we had enough teddy bears. The best bear I bought him happened to be on the clearance shelf at a bookstore. The bear had a brother, so I bought them both. One sleeps with us on our bed. He is the best bear. He is the perfect size to cuddle. My partner likes to name his bears, and he named this one after a hockey player. We don't fight over him, exactly, but somehow I always end up hugging him in my sleep. My partner hugs a bear I knitted, back when I was a more talented knitter than I am today. I can hear you asking: "What happened to the bear's brother?" Get ready to shed a tear, because I gave him to our granddaughter this summer, the first time we met. Because my stepdaughter and he

When I was a teenager, I bought myself two classical music CDs: one was an album of Debussy piano music, which I still own, and which I have never been able to find online. I don't think the album was ever digitized. The other was a CD of assorted pieces by Ravel. I'm not sure why I was always so drawn to French Impressionist music in my youth, but it's a love that's stayed with me through the years. Le Tombeau de Couperin was included on the CD I owned, but not in its entirety. I think maybe one or two movements were on there, but I've always been terrible at remembering names of movements. I know which one is most familiar to me, but I can't tell you what it's called. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) or check them out from your local library.  Supporting my  AudioErotica  endeavour on  Patreon  would also help me hugely. I'

I was taking out the recycling at my apartment the other night. I take the stairs whenever I'm able to, which leads me through the first floor of my building and past a bunch of different suites.  The one in the corner was blaring Amazing Grace. Not this version. I've never been fond of this tune (for trauma-related reasons--I won't get into it), but hearing it played as loudly as it was being played made me very, very glad that my apartment doesn't touch that person's apartment. One my way back up, after dumping my recycling, the volume from that unit was equally loud, but this time it wasn't Amazing Grace. This time it was a life insurance commercial. And this time it made me very glad I don't live in an old age home (yet...) because loud TV sort of goes with the territory, there. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) or check them ou

It was Thanksgiving here in Canada, this past weekend. Even though my partner and I never have company for Thanksgiving dinner, it still means a lot of cooking for me. It's a big meal. This year was tough because apparently my partner had emailed a friend a couple months ago saying he figured he'd have his tastebuds back in time for Thanksgiving. (If you're new around here, he lost his sense of taste during cancer treatment this summer.) Well, my partner doesn't have his tastebuds back. What's worse is that he'd been feeling better over the past few weeks, and this weekend the extreme fatigue and pain he experienced during and after radiation came back full force. His oncologist said to expect this--that recovery was not linear, and that he could start feeling better and then suddenly feel worse again--but the setback has made him angry, irritable, depressed, and a whole lot more.  As I write this, it's storming outside. It's been grey all day, and ve

My partner got up from the couch and said he was going upstairs. He asked if he should turn off the TV and I said sure, because I would be following him upstairs. Naturally, I sang this song at him as I followed. When we arrived upstairs, he turned to me and said, "My mother once heard that song and warned me that if anyone ever said those words to me, I should run." I was like haha, too late, you're stuck with me now. Additionally, I recall seeing Sister Act in a theatre in Florida. Not a very vibrant memory (a multiplex in Florida is much like a multiplex anywhere else), but there you have it. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) 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 bu

Last week I told you about my partner suggesting I read Lorna Doone, and me not reading Lorna Doone because it was 600 pages long. Well, he had another "children's book" on his shelf, and it's one I've noticed before. With a name like " Moonfleet " I naturally assumed it was sci-fi. Turns out it's a "dashing tale of eighteenth-century Dorset smugglers" and I'm actually in love with it. One scene in this book mentions sealing wax, which is how we landed on this song. This song also mentions sealing wax. But, because I was a child when I learned it, and because I learned it by ear and didn't see the lyrics written down, I assumed they were saying "ceiling wax."  I didn't know what ceiling wax was, but I figured it was something you used to fix cracks in your ceiling. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults o

I needed new pyjamas, so, naturally, I went to the supermarket. They sell clothes for cheap. I am nothing if not cheap. Whenever people buy me pyjamas (and by "people" I mean my mother, because she is the only person who buys me pyjamas), they buy me flannel pyjamas. As a permimenopausal person, let me tell you, flannel does not work. Even when I sleep naked, I wake up drenched in sweat. So I needed to find something I could sleep in that wasn't hot, and what I found (at the supermarket) were these adorable soft fluttery little shorts. And they were made of a printed fabric. And that print was of sea flora, tridents, and purple Ursula heads.  Ursula, from The Little Mermaid. Since I loved Disney villains as a kid AND they were on the clearance rack, I bought them and paired them with a tank top I got for $3. The reason we're listening to Divine is that, in case you weren't aware, the character of Ursula in The Little Mermaid was modelled on Divine. Now I

We were in the car driving from the small town where my partner lives to the city where I live when this piece came on the radio. Later in the week, we were driving from city to small town and... this piece came on the radio. Deja vu. The host on the classical station mentioned that most people know it as the Masterpiece Theatre Theme, and spoke with nostalgia about his father watching Masterpiece Theatre when he was a kid. I laughed because ain't no one in my family be watching Masterpiece Theatre when I was growing up! Our house wasn't fancy like that. We kids did watch PBS frequently, though, because that's where Sesame Street was aired. I didn't know Masterpiece Theatre, but I sure knew Monsterpiece Theatre with its eternally eloquent host, Alistair Cookie. As my partner and I were getting ready to watch the remake of Upstairs, Downstairs on DVD last night, I remembered that Sesame Street did its own version of Upstairs, Downstairs . It involved... a lot of

I mentioned in an earlier post that a big reason I came back to blogging here (after a nearly two-year hiatus) is that there's nowhere else I'm writing my life, these days. That's not to say I haven't been writing. This year I produced a trilogy called The Boss and the Nanny, but those books are for entertainment purposes only. They don't reflect my life or my experiences. My own chronic illness and my partner's cancer are a lot to deal with, and I deal with life by writing. Right here! The last book I wrote that was in any way about me was Delta's Diary , from my Lesbian Diaries series, and that came out last year. I haven't written a "me" book since. Delta's Diary was the first book where I consciously dealt with PTSD on the page. Not to brag, but I actually have two different kinds of PTSD. I know you're impressed. Who wouldn't be? You could probably say all my books are a reflection of PTSD in one way or another, because

 I spent this morning with my head in a bucket. There's a migraine medication my doctor prescribed for me. These pills are extremely expensive, so I don't take them very often. I only had one left, and I couldn't remember if I had side effects from them. Turns out I do.  This morning, rather than staying in bed with a migraine, I stayed in bed feeling like I was going to puke, shaking uncontrollably, feeling horribly dizzy even though I was lying down. Imagine paying money to feel like that. Eventually, I fell asleep. When I woke up (with my head in a bucket), I was parched.  It's noon as I'm writing this. I'm still in bed. Yesterday my mother said to me, "It's like you don't even WANT to get better!" I was livid.  First off, I'm living with chronic illness. You don't just "get better" from that. There ain't no cure for love, and there ain't no cure for what I've got. Secondly, I have seen my family doctor 4 times

It's funny--I've had this song in my head on and off for... months. Before we went on hiatus, I'd been featuring trans opera singers here on the music blog. Well, Avery Jean Brennan came to my attention through a piece of mail I received from the Canadian Opera Company. I love this video they created--especially the post-it notes. Does that ever hit home. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) 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 . I also recommend subscribing to my newsletter. I generally e-mail subscribers with a weekly update, and I would LOVE to have you on the list.  Click here to sign up:  http://eepurl.com/R4b11 See you soon

This piece came on the radio the other night while I was doing the dishes, and I said to my partner, "This is one of my favourite songs!"  We both laughed because a) I had no idea what it was called or who it was composed by and b) it's not a song.  My partner was able to easily find out everything about it, since we were streaming the radio through his computer, but it still isn't a song. The funny thing about this lil music blog of mine is that our songs of the day are hardly ever classical pieces, even though the vast majority of the time I spend listening to music, I'm listening to classical pieces. My partner and I put on our classical station while we're making dinner, we listen to it while we eat, we have it on in the background while we enjoy our postprandial crossword and while we do the dishes. Last night, that was three hours of classical, and that's pretty typical. I used to listen to music while I worked, but I don't anymore. I find it

My partner and I have been watching a lot of major league baseball lately. This song gets played a lot when they're cutting to commercials. Years ago, my mother used to get free tickets to Jays games from her boss. He had season's tickets, but he often couldn't use them, so he'd give them away at the last minute. My mother would phone me, because I could be expected to be available on short notice, but I wasn't enthusiastic about going. I have fond childhood memories of going to Jays games back when they were played at Exhibition Stadium, but as an adult, I found baseball super boring. I will admit that my mother would sometimes bribe me with candy. Even though I was a full-grown adult at the time, the candy bribes worked.  For a while.  Then I started to find the games so boring, even candy wouldn't cut it. Now? I don't find baseball boring anymore. Not sure why. I only started watching games because my partner was watching them, and I just wanted to cu

I'm sitting alone in my partner's house, and I'm reminded why I don't usually sit alone in my partner's house. (I usually sit outside.) The clock. It's a sentimental item, for him. His parents received it as a wedding present, so it's old. And it ticks. And it tocks. When there's no one else in the house, it's all I hear: tick, tock, tick, tock. Ticking the hours of my life away. It is the most depressing noise. Not just depressing, but existentially depressing. It might as well be reminding me: you're going to die. The other day, my partner told me that he would like to give the clock to his son. As a gift. He's just not sure about packing it and shipping it overseas. It might get damaged in the process. I don't always want to see things go from this house, but the clock I can live without. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most a