Category Archives: Uncategorized

No Hurry

No Hurry
Shawna Jacques

ttto “No Hurry” by Michelle “Vixy” Dockrey

The alarm goes off at 7, and I make a grumbling sound
I get dressed up just enough to take my morning meeting rounds,
While the brewing of the kettle’s taking much too long for tea,
I count the days that I’ve worked from home, thanks to this quarantine.

No hurry, no hurry now
Watch TV for an hour or two
No hurry, no hurry now
You fill your time when it’s all you can do
No hurry, no hurry now
From Zoom to Zoom, what’s another Monday?
No hurry, no hurry now
Whenever it is, it’s far and away

I read on social media about some people at the store
How the lineup to get in is spaced six feet apart or more,
My planned year has some travel and I’m hoping it still will,
But it’s hard to social distance when you’re flying ‘cross the world.

No hurry, no hurry now
Watch TV for an hour or three
No hurry, no hurry now
You fill your time when it’s all that you need
No hurry, no hurry now
From Zoom to Zoom, what’s another Thursday?
No hurry, no hurry now
Whenever it is, it’s far and away

We put masks by the roadside so the neighbors can take some,
Gather bread flour and active yeast and bake a hecking ton,
Though most of us must stay at home, till the plague’s gone down again
Our essential workers have to go, so we’re doing what we can.

No hurry, no hurry now
Watch TV for an hour or four
No hurry, no hurry now
You fill your time when you really want more,
No hurry, no hurry now
From Zoom to Zoom, what’s another Wednesday?
No hurry, no hurry now
Whenever it is, it’s far and away

Doctors say it’s best this way, to the best of what they know
And I wonder now when it will be that we can leave our homes?
I want to go see all my friends, and not just their online face
But we can’t kick COVID in the butt if we move at such a pace

No hurry, no hurry now
Watch TV for an hour or five
No hurry, no hurry now
You fill your time so you know you’re alive
No hurry, no hurry now
From Zoom to Zoom, what even is today?
No hurry, no hurry now
Whenever it is, it’s far and away

QA Engineer Shanty

QA Engineer Shanty

ttto “Livejournal Shanty” by Brooke Abbey

filk by Shawna Jacques


And it’s way hey, me lads, crash the test app again,   G – C G
There might be a new fix from developers’ hands   C G D7 –
Yes it’s way hey, me boys, try a repro or two,   G – C G
and eight more new bugs found leaves us feeling blue.   C G D7 G

It’s a hard life a-workin’ the quality trail   Gm – Dm Gm
I’m testing all day and all night without fail   Gm – Cm Gm
If I didn’t, I know that we would be a wreck as    Gm – Cm Gm
We’d never discover the bugs ’till they frack us.  Cm Gm D7 Gm

And it’s way hey, me lads, crash the test app again,   G – C G
There might be a new fix from developers’ hands   C G D7 –
Yes it’s way hey, me boys, try a repro or two,   G – C G
and thirteen new bugs found leaves us feeling blue.   C G D7 G


And it’s upload the icons, change a naming scheme,    Gm – Dm Gm
Answer dev’s questions, HAUL AWAY at our screens,   Gm – Cm Gm
Write a legal disclaimer for your install page   Gm – Cm Gm
And revise the notations of bug fixes made.   Cm Gm D7 Gm

And it’s way hey, me lads, crash the test app again,   G – C G
There might be a new fix from developers’ hands   C G D7 –
Yes it’s way hey, me boys, try a repro or two,   G – C G
and twenty new bugs found leaves us feeling blue.   C G D7 G

And let’s bitch ’cause they changed the UI without telling     Gm – Dm Gm
The red line’s outdated, there’s so many misspellings   Gm – Cm Gm
I don’t ask for much, but I’d like to be told   Gm – Cm Gm
when the outsourced team’s outsourced team’s    Cm Gm
outsourced team’s outsourced team’s    Cm Gm
outsourced team’s outsourced team’s    Cm Gm
“updating” the code.    D7 Gm 


And it’s way hey, me lads, crash the test app again,   G – C G
There might be a new fix from developers’ hands   C G D7 –
Yes it’s way hey, me boys, try a repro or two,   G – C G
and forty new bugs found leaves us feeling blue.   C G D7 G.

I’m not scared that I will be blamed by my masters    Gm – Dm Gm
since they hired me I have prevented disasters   Gm – Cm Gm
but I’m still going to file all my emails away   Gm – Cm Gm
Another bug will come up just like today.   Cm Gm D7 Gm

And it’s way hey, me lads, crash the test app again,   G – C G
There might be a new fix from developers’ hands   C G D7 –
Yes it’s way hey, me boys, try a repro or two,   G – C G
and ten more new bugs found leaves us feeling blue.   C G D7 G
Yeah, one hundred more bugs found leaves me feeling blue.   C G D7 G

Nation Called Panem

by Shawna Jacques
written about Hunger Games (by Suzanne Collins),
ttto “City of Marrow” by S.J. Tucker,

which is written for a book called Orphan’s Tales: In the Cities of Coin and Spice,
by Catherynne M. Valente

Lyrics updated 03-06-2016

If you are not familiar with this book, it is a beautiful pair of books of stories within stories within stories. The story the original song is about is about a city that has fallen to ruin due to a monster comprised mostly of teeth and hunger. The city, which used to mint coins from metal, now mints coins from the bones of dead children, and they make other children work the machines. A boy and a girl stick in that wretched workforce decide to take matters into their own hands, and the boy literally feeds his own arm into the machine so they have coins for their escape. Then I read The Hunger Games, and this practically wrote itself.

(oooo intro)

You’d never know that Panem was
a different place, up until the war
her city’s heart lost its way
so long, so long
gone is the country, the people, the land
now hunger is all that’s in store
above and below she has rotted away,
so long, so long

the districts had called
for Capitol fall,
but now no more than twelve you will find
broken shattered walls
no one there at all
gone to ashes and wasteland and lost time

bakers’ sons and coal miners’ daughters
must take their own lives to hand
I have been through the games of hunger,
and I have come out again.

(so) Fear for the lives they’re wasting
their Reaper may come for you
there’s only one victor, so try to win
they’re counting on you to pull through
or the Hunger Games may take them, too.

(ohhh, oh, I volunteer
ohhh, oh, I volunteer)

Truly, we’ve lost our great nation
that hunger has all but devoured
I look to my mother but I’m all alone
no one looks after the kids now

(ohhh, oh, I volunteer
ohhh, oh, I volunteer)

There can be no hope for our nation
while President Snow is in power
The odds aren’t in favor
Of me or of you

there’s only the Games now,
there’s only the blame now…

Fear for the lives they’re wasting
their Reaper may come for you
there’s only one victor, so try to win
they’re counting on you to pull through, oh…

Fear for the lives they’re wasting
their Reaper may come for you
there’s only one victor, so try to win
they’re counting on you to pull through
or the Hunger Games may take them, too.

bakers’ sons and coal miners’ daughters
must take their own lives to hand
fear now the Games of Hunger
you may not come out again.
I have been through the Games of Hunger
and I have come out again.

Fear for the lives they’re wasting
their Reaper may come for you
there’s only one victor, so try to win
they’re counting on you to pull through
the Hunger Games must someday end, too.

(mockingjay whistle tune)

Poem of the Week #4: Every Day You Play (Pablo Neruda)

Crafty Odysseus

Tis the week of Valentine’s Day. I should respond to it with the traditional dose of bile, but my heart isn’t in it. Almost everything about Valentine’s day is shite: the pressure applied to couples, the loneliness and inadequacy foisted on to the singles, the rampant commercialisation, and above all the rose tinted and sickly portrait of love that the day has come to promote and represent. Still, an entire day (and a saint) dedicated to erotic love can’t be all bad.

Poem of the week is therefore ‘Every Day You Play’ by that Nobel winning Chilean love guru Pablo Neruda, notable for including possibly the sexiest final line of a poem ever written…

Every Day You Play (Pablo Neruda)

Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water.
You are more than this white head that I hold…

View original post 303 more words

Warm (Work in progress)

This piece is NSFW.

Read the rest of this entry

The Hermes and Hekate Road Show, Episode 1

On all my social media outlets…

The Hermes and Hekate Road Show, Episode 1

This is awesome. It is even more awesome, in my view, because the folks playing Hermes and Hekate are my defining priest and priestess for those roles from Spring Mysteries in years past.

Steer wisely.
Something about cycles.

These are pieces of advice from those deities via that priest and priestess, dispensed to me over the last 6 years. They are also statements that relate to the content of this podcast.

Check it out, y’all.

Sometimes A Wild God

Sometimes A Wild God, by Tom Hirons, is an amazing poem.

Poemlet that popped into my head this morning…

Mirror, mirror,
made of stone,
polished antler,
brass, and bone,
Tell me truly:
on my own?
Seated, silent
lifeless throne.

Someone Else’s Words: The Sincerity of a Child

Here’s a light for you
You can put all of your secrets in
And they will never come out again.

 

My little 6 year old housemate just said this to me. ❤

Character: The Atacarthian Manticore

In her den, the Manticore snarls and rages. She hates everything, even while loving it so tightly that the broken edges cut her. She would destroy it all until every creature around her suffers as soul deep as she does, bleeding her love out on the foundations which are all that remain of her home; even they are nearly gone. The great City Atacarthia has been destroyed, desecrated by a new queen, her consort, and the Order in power which deems that nothing that the City was previously is good enough for it. They raised her hopes at first with talk of cooperation and slow but needed improvements, then razed it level, only to raise up their own pathetic mockery of the beauty and ancient pride with which the City once held up Her head. The Manticore would love nothing more than to see it burn.

Do not approach that cavern, child. The Manticore is no less deadly for her sobs and screeching than she was at the height of her prosperity. Manticores still sting, roar, sing, and kill as their fathers teach them, and New Atacarthia would do well to remember that.