Tyler Yoder's Blog, page 16

Music Monday: Cherry Pie

Not that vulgar one by Warrant, Gentle Reader. This is a song by Norwegian girl group Katzenjammer, and it always makes me cry. Even when it’s me playing it. What.

My Nanny, my mother’s mother, was also Norwegian, and shared a number of her recipes with me. When she got old, and unable to make family dinners any more, my mother and I stepped in and sort of took over. To Nanny, food was love. Her wooden recipe box is one of my treasured possessions.

Tagged: Family Stories That Are Completely True, Katzenjammer Cover, Music Monday, Things That Make Me Cry, Ukulele, Ukulele Covers

Poetic Interlude LXXIV

Gentle Reader, this poem was written by Ogden Nash, and it’s one of my favorites.

Ha! Original Sin!
Vanity, vanity, all is vanity
That’s any fun at all for humanity.
Food is vanity, so is drink,
And undergarments of gossamer pink,
P. G. Wodehouse and long vacations,
Going abroad, and rich relations,
The kind of engagements you want to keep,
A hundred honors, and twelve hour’s sleep.
Vanities all – oh Worra, worra!
Rooted in Sodom and Gomorrah.

Vanity, vanity, all is vanity
That’s any fun at all for humanity.
That is the gist of the prophet’s case,
From Bishop Cannon to Canon Chase. 
The prophet’s chant and the prophet’s chatter,
But somehow it never seems to matter,
For the world hangs on to its ancient sanity 
And orders another round of vanity. 
Then Hey! for Gomorrah! and Nonny! for Sodom!
Marie! The Chanel model for Modom!
Tagged: Ogden Nash, Poetic Interludes, Poetry

Post the Eighty-Seventh: Halloween Costumes

Gentle Reader, I’m perfectly aware of the date. It’s only the fifth of Septempber; why on earth would a rational person already be planning something nearly two months away?

To that I simply have to say that I started planning back in August and that I’ve already started construction of my Halloween gown. Hand-beading takes time, kids.

Furthermore, in the days of the F.P.A., we always imagined our Ideal Guest receiving their invitation or their save-the-date card, debating over what costume to make, purchase, construct, and spending months on their attire. There would be vague murmurs at all the best parties – Well, what are you wearing? – and thus, interest and intrigue would slowly build for absolute ages, until the day of the event, when people’s creativity and talent would wash over us all in a riotous frenzy of feathers, silk, and sequins. While this was never quite the case with our actual guests, I have always treated Halloween, the Costumer’s High Holy Day, with the reverence and respect described.

I have come up with many unique concepts over the years; the above was a dark interpretation of the Baron Munchausen; there is also my steampunk iteration of the White Knight from Through the Looking Glass:

You can’t quite tell in the photo; there are approximately twenty pouches on the various straps across my chest that serve for armor; there are baskets, a turkish coffee set, tools for masonry and woodwork, a number of blades of varying uses, and so on and so forth.

You can see that this is a serious business that I’m about; I cannot just be a cat, a gypsy, or a cowboy. These, however, are the sort of suggestions I’ve been getting. September is nearly halfway over, and I don’t yet have a back-up concept. A back-up is absolutely de rigeur as the Madame Du Pompadour gown I’m working on is elaborate and expensive, and even at this early date there may not be enough time. There was a moment when I almost decided on Dorothy Parker, but the Coco Chanel* fiasco two years ago turned me against that idea. A couple’s costume, with Miss K, going as gender-switched June and Ward Cleaver seemed promising†, but I know full well that she won’t want to go to half the functions I want to attend. I may be stumped, for the first time in years, even if I am a dead ringer for June.

 

For heaven’s sake, I cobbled my own boots for my Jareth costume. This shouldn’t be an issue. It is absolutely vital that I sort this out by Sunday, so that I have enough time to source materials and begin in earnest.

I’m sorry, Gentle Reader. I’m publicly brooding over the inconsequential. Do you have any suggestions? What are you wearing and doing on Halloween?

*********

*The fiasco is twofold: firstly, no photos nor film of my costume survive; secondly, no one knew who I was, so I eventually told people that I was a Maiden Aunt.

†Fuck Gender-Roles! Fight Heteronormativity! Etc. Great concept; it’s just that a double-costume’s not practical.

Tagged: Costuming Is Super Important Y'All, Fuck Gender Roles, Halloweekend, Halloween, Halloween costume, This Gown Is Gonna Be Ridiculous, Upcycled Posts

Post the Whatever: Not A Real Post

Hey, Gentle Reader. I’m only here for a brief moment; last month was action packed, and this month promises to be the same. What this means for you? I need a whole day all to myself to get caught up on future posts. What this means for me? Stress.

However.

I have a new coworker and he looks exactly like this:

So that’s a thing.

I love you and miss you and will try to have everything sorted out by Friday. Cheers, Reader.

Tagged: Apologies, Celebrity Crush, Chris Evans, Not a Real Post, Updates

Music Monday: Please Don’t Talk About Me When I’m Gone/Five Foot Two

A medley! Quelle chance! This is the video in which I notice the buzzing issue that’s been plaguing the new series of ukulele videos, and I will hopefully solve that issue before next week. Not that the vocals matter even a jot – but it doesn’t allow the playing to shine, either. I wish I’d noticed before now.

At any rate, your video, Gentle Reader.

Tagged: Five Foot Two, Has Anybody See My Girl, I don't actually like girls y'all, Maid Headdresses, No Seriously Don't Talk About Me. Asshole., Please Don't Talk About Me When I'm Gone, The Roaring Twenties, Video Issues

Poetic Interlude LXXIII

On Gossip

When repenting my crimes, my life, and my sinning,

I’m often surprised by other’s distress:

Vomiting vengeance, vehemence, and vigour,

Though they’ve never lived it, I’m sure they know best.

So I’ll keep to my loves, my pleasures and glories,

Disreputable, yes. What stories they give!

Let the naysayers keep their prim picket-fences -

No matter the ending, at least I’ll have lived!

Aspartame

A smoky place where we can go:

In false dark voice both sweet and low,

The hostess sits, and prompts decay,

and burns the trifling hours away.

With smile as light and wide as sin,

A heart as pure as saccharin -

Though you’ve just met, she clings you close:

She’s more sincere than sucralose;

Coffee, gossip unrestrained

(with vitriol and aspartame).

And as the noiseless months slip by,

You’ll smoke until your veins run dry,

Then you’ll get your allotted dose -

(Though all are Equal, she’s the most)

You’ll take your turn to feel her hate,

She’ll spare neither beat nor cane,

The woman built from aspartame.

 

©2013 by Tyler J. Yoder. All rights reserved

Tagged: False Friends, Gossip, Poetic Interludes, Poetry, Tyler J. Yoder

Post the Eighty-Sixth: Songs About Gin

You know, Gentle Reader – with the last dregs of summer firmly in sight, let’s head out to the veranda for a crisp, refreshing Gin and Tonic. I’ve never been overly fond of the sun, given my delicate skin – but when it’s setting, and the heat of the day is largely over – I do largely enjoy it. Admire the sparkle of sun on the glass! The clink of the ice as you modestly tipple! Yes, a sunny afternoon slipping away into evening is an excellent time for gin.

What!?! You say you don’t like gin? Philistine!

Well, if you won’t drink the fictitious gin, will you at least listen to it?

I’ve loved this first number since I accidentally downloaded it while searching for songs for our steampunk soirée, the Victorian Technological Exposition. It’s by a group called the Victorian English Gentleman’s Club, and the song itself is called Ban the Gin.

This next song I’ve only known, and loved, for around six months, when Auntie Trin introduced me to The Tiger Lillies. They’re obviously right up my alley. This song is titled, simply, Gin.

Who doesn’t love the Magnetic Fields? You better had, or else I don’t know what’s to be done with you. This number is not one of my favorites of theirs, but it is entirely about gin. Or love. One of those. Love is Like A Bottle Of Gin, anyway.

To finish, why not a song by that charming Kiwi chanteuse Gin Wigmore? I’ve adored her since 2008, but hadn’t really paid much attention to what’s she’s done since then, until I saw this video – which, like a nice G&T, made me perk right up. This song is called Man Like That.

And I think I’ll leave you here, Gentle Reader. I hope you’ve left with a better appreciation of Gin!

Tagged: Alcoholic Beverages, Alcoholic Songs, Ban The Gin, Best Songs About Gin, Gin, Gin Wigmore, Love Is Like A Bottle Of Gin, Man Like That, Music, Songs About Gin, The Magnetic Fields, The Tiger Lillies, The Victorian English Gentleman's Club

Post the Eighty-Fifth: An Open Letter

As I swiftly approach my thirtieth birthday, I grow a little concerned, Gentle Reader. What beauty I possess is starting to feel the first flush of frost, and my prospects to improve my situation are a little bleak. In short, I feel afraid.

It was with this in mind that I went to jot down any skills I might have, and two things became perfectly clear.

I am a rather frail, delicate creature
I am clearly only suited to be a Victorian governess, or the spouse of a wealthy man.

My Resume

With this brave new direction in mind, began the following open letter to the Darcys and Rochesters of the world. And I have no qualms about madwomen locked up in the attic, either, fellas. If you know of anyone whose interest would be piqued by the following missive, Gentle Reader, please send it their way.

Stephen Fry, for example.

Elegant Older Femme Seeks Security

Gentlemen, 

While I am possessed of many skills that I feel benefit the world at large, my circumstances are such that they are not enough to bodily sustain me. However, I am certain that my talents are both diverting and useful, and I would be delighted to put them to good use. Therefore, I am seeking a position as a companion, a spouse, a governess, or an amanuensis, or some combination of those roles. 

I speak a little light French, I play both ukulele and piano, and given the budget, I decorate charmingly. I arrange flowers. I sketch, and I paint. I sew or alter all of my own clothes, and I’ve been known to keep an eye on developing trends in both men’s and women’s fashions, which would come in handy if you were to revamp your wardrobe. I am exceedingly familiar with matters of deportment, etiquette, and poetry, and moderately competent at composition, literature, history, and mathematics. Should you have a child in need of aid in any of these subjects, I’m available to move in immediately. 

As a burgeoning writer, I’m a quick typist, and am used to correcting mistakes on the fly, as well as visions and revisions that a minute will reverse. I take direction well, am generally genial and demure, and would be thrilled to be in a creative environment where I could take dictation and endure other secretarial tasks.

I enjoy hosting lavish balls, as well as more intimate cocktail soirées, dinner parties, and musicales. If you’re the sort of businessman who needs to entertain clients, I would be a perfect helpmate. Not only do I enjoy the duties of hosting, I cook; French, Indian, Thai, Moroccan – my tastes are drawn from all over the world.  I can also declaim charmingly, should such a thing be required. I have also been known to keep track of and interact in three simultaneous conversations at once. Furthermore, my cocktails are legendary.

If any of this appeals, gentlemen, I can be immediately at your service – or, failing that, I would be ready to wed within a few months. No pre-nups.

Yours,

Tyler

Tagged: Am I Serious? Resume, CV, Governess, Important Life Skills, Marry Me, Patronage, Samantha Stevens

Music Monday: Puttin’ On The Ritz

This is my go-to Karaoke song, Gentle Reader – but for some reason, when I come to play it myself, I can’t hit a single note with my voice. Perhaps it’s because I’m sober, and outside the Bar. Who can say?

Tagged: Fred Astaire, Music Monday, Puttin' On The Ritz, Tyler J. Yoder, Ukulele Covers

Poetic Interlude LXXII

A Letter
Dear Dr. and Mrs. Wiggenbottom,

Thank you so much for the Party!

I hope all your guests had their fun -

I know that young Julie DuBois did,

When she bedded your under-aged son.

The décor was perfectly charming,

Or it was until Randy arrived

(With his bevy of busty young beauties

That he pays to appear by his side.)

I’m sorry that I broke your glasses,

And that vase that your aunt sent from France,

And I’m sure Jim and I were such asses

When we tried to make Eleanor dance.

I know that your neighbours are vicious,

And threatened to call in the cops,

(It was Sue who burned holes in the carpet;

What can you expect from a sot?)

Now you musn’t mind all the mess, dears,

Or the stranger passed out on the trunk.

Thanks for letting me sleep it off here, dears.

Kisses and Love! Signed,
The Drunks
 
 
Morning
I woke hungover, half past one

The sky, a lovely grey

I grinned into my cigarette

And rose to greet the day -

For I was young, and newly poor

I suffered for my art;

Like every poet ever born,

I had a broken heart.

And all my friends were gathered round,

With coffee, and despair,

Perhaps a touch of lunacy-

The greying of our hair.

And I set out, with paper, pen,

To nail the world down,

And transmute my troubled life

To pleasant, written, sound.
 

©2013 by Tyler J. Yoder. All rights reserved

Tagged: Despair, Fabulous Parties, Hangovers, Poetic Interludes, Poetry, The Drunks, Tyler J. Yoder