What became of the monk?
What with all this time we've been spending in the car, we've been listening to a lot of CDs. Stories, poetry and music, mostly aimed at soothing the backseat passengers. One of these CDs is Laurie Berkner (who I had never heard of but who is apparently pretty popular). Her songs are, you know, catchy and cute. They're not TMBG by a loooong way. Mostly, they're just chirpy and innocuous. Except there's one that I find deeply confusing. Or rather -- I hope I'm confused. It doesn't help at all that I heard Animal Fair as Oedipal Fair. But seriously. You can see why.
This is the song Animal Fair.
I went to the Animal Fair.
The birds and the bees were there.*
The big baboon by the light of the moon was combing its auburn hair.
The monkeys jumped and jumped
And sat on the elephant's trunk
The elephant sneezed (aaah aaaaah AAAAAH CHOO!)
And fell on his knees
And what became of the monk the monk and what became of the monk the monk and what became of the monk.
And what, really, did become of the monk?
Children's music is odd. Time to play some more James Brown.
*I just listened to this song in the car again, and I'm now pretty sure that it's the birds and the beasts, not the bees. What this means, of course, is that I not only thought she was singing a song called Oedipal Fair, which was therefore about sublimated sexuality in children, I also heard birds and bees when she in fact was singing birds and beasts. So clearly, it is my brain that needs a thorough vacuuming with industrial strength Clean-O-Vac, not the nice singer's brain, since she apparently is so good as to even clear up mild references to alcohol and death.
I would love there to be a song called Oedipal Fair, though.
In an attempt not to blog every.single.day about my current obsession, I'm adding a temporary blog fixture for November: a NaNoWriMo thought for the day. It won't BE the post -- it will just lurk balefully (or cheerfully) at the bottom of the page and let you know how that whole piece of lunacy is going.
NaNoWriMo thought for the day: Yesterday, with one thing and another, I didn't get to work until 7:00 at night, what is normally my turnoffthedamnovenbecauseIamDONE! moment of the day. Exhausted and almost tearful, I started writing. Writing stuff so bad that my very loud internal editor was screaming in frustration, but writing. A thousand words. And until that moment, I hadn't realized how important this project is to me. Until I watched myself leap over my exhaustion hurdle to sit down and write, I didn't know. This is important. And until yesterday night, I didn't actually think I was going to cross the finish line. Now I think I might.
This is the song Animal Fair.
I went to the Animal Fair.
The birds and the bees were there.*
The big baboon by the light of the moon was combing its auburn hair.
The monkeys jumped and jumped
And sat on the elephant's trunk
The elephant sneezed (aaah aaaaah AAAAAH CHOO!)
And fell on his knees
And what became of the monk the monk and what became of the monk the monk and what became of the monk.
And what, really, did become of the monk?
Children's music is odd. Time to play some more James Brown.
*I just listened to this song in the car again, and I'm now pretty sure that it's the birds and the beasts, not the bees. What this means, of course, is that I not only thought she was singing a song called Oedipal Fair, which was therefore about sublimated sexuality in children, I also heard birds and bees when she in fact was singing birds and beasts. So clearly, it is my brain that needs a thorough vacuuming with industrial strength Clean-O-Vac, not the nice singer's brain, since she apparently is so good as to even clear up mild references to alcohol and death.
I would love there to be a song called Oedipal Fair, though.
***********************************
In an attempt not to blog every.single.day about my current obsession, I'm adding a temporary blog fixture for November: a NaNoWriMo thought for the day. It won't BE the post -- it will just lurk balefully (or cheerfully) at the bottom of the page and let you know how that whole piece of lunacy is going.
NaNoWriMo thought for the day: Yesterday, with one thing and another, I didn't get to work until 7:00 at night, what is normally my turnoffthedamnovenbecauseIamDONE! moment of the day. Exhausted and almost tearful, I started writing. Writing stuff so bad that my very loud internal editor was screaming in frustration, but writing. A thousand words. And until that moment, I hadn't realized how important this project is to me. Until I watched myself leap over my exhaustion hurdle to sit down and write, I didn't know. This is important. And until yesterday night, I didn't actually think I was going to cross the finish line. Now I think I might.
posted by Francesca Amendolia at 11:32
12 Comments:
The traditional lyrics should make it clear:
The monkey he got drunk,
And sat on the elephant's trunk,
The elephant sneezed,
and fell on its knees,
And that was the end of the monk!
Naaaa...
the monkey fell off his bunk,
and slid down the elephant's trunk.
and the baboon was combing its golden hair too.
I am enthusiastically cheering you on as you write for the finish line. To me, the NaNoWriMo is as awe inspiring as running a marathon. I would not be able to find the start line, never mind run for the finish! Go team Stuntmother, go!
We like Laurie Berkner is this house too! I never heard that song though. I am behind, as usual.
I'll be rooting for you too. It's only been one day and look how far you have come!
Dang -- another example of trying to prettify things up for our kids. I was singing this song in 1963, when the lyrics were, defintely, the version reported by the first anonymous, "the monkey he got drunk," etc. And I taught it "the right way" to my own kids. I suppose this makes me a horrible mother in some way, and it is true that the best watercolor my daughter ever did was a still life of wine bottles (completed when she was 7). But even though I have now firmly established the fact that I am, fundamentally, an incompetent mama, I'll still defend the right to sing the original version of songs, regardless of whether they butt up aginast the myth of the perfect childhood.
good luck with your nanowriting, it's a great feeling when you hit the stride and know you want to keep moving forward!
You've gotta gag that internal editor - and I know how difficult that can be. Here is what you are going for (just to remind you): In the way that we take 50 pictures of our kids during one afternoon at the park, just to (hopefully) capture one of two perfect likenesses of them enjoying themselves and looking as adorable as we know them to be - you are writing hundreds of sentences, and every now and then, some of them will be effing brilliant. I've read enough of your writing - I'm certain you will do this. (And if all else fails, kill off a main character.)
;-)
Ok, first the animal fair song.. I learnt it as the second anonymous. But, it wasn't what became of the monk, but what became of the monkey (which I always assumed meant did he get squashed to death or not? - I had such morbid thoughts matched with a desire for a happy ending as a child!). However, I think that there is scope for a much better oedipal fair song... or maybe that would work better as an idea for a short story? (probably adults only!)
Secondly, I am SO proud of you for committing to writing. Really. Just don't kill yourself over this!
I think Oedipal Fair would be worth a listen, definitely. And if you have a functioning prototype for the brain Clean-o-Vac thing, I've got a sister who works in patent law. I think you could make a fortune!
Hang in there with the NaNo thing--I really admire your willingness to make a committment to it when your kids are still so young and all-consuming! :)
You are so brave to both writing projects! I couldn't even commit to blogging every day.
And what's up with changing kids song lyrics? I grew up Roger Miller and Ray Stevens and I am only a part-time drunk. My kids will sing about drunkenness and they will love it, damn it! Chug a lug, chug a lug... Hehe.
You will go to a special place in the afterlife just for playing kids' music in the car. I merely rely on quick reflexes to turn down the volume when the lyrics contain F words.
Love your blog, Stuntmother!
go Custancia, go!!!! You know it makes sense!!!
(the second anonymous)
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