Tuesday, September 21, 2010

About Climbing That Seemingly Insurmountable Mountain: RhondaOne, Lark ...

The Gospel According to Super Ant

Shall I forge my own way, regardless of life's insecurities
and subtle pressures that others bring to bear?
Will I be strong enough to meet their disapproval—
A Cancer in the Unmet Dreams of Others.
And more, do I press onward when there is no guarantee of outcome?
I cannot be 100%, but I know one thing—I'm not afraid of failure.
My fear is one of not trying.
I may be many things but I shall not end up a coulda/woulda/shoulda.
Brave words ... I hear people say
but will it be enough that I tried, gave it my best
and still fell short of the mark, at the end of my days?
If I don't try, I'll never know.
The journey of a lifetime begins with the first step, some folk say.
And I say that, too.
For I am an Ant—Super Ant, out to climb “my Everest.”
Don't look at the big picture;
just take it easy, little by little, one foot in front of another
and things will fall ... and I'll watch that mountain melt away.

Excerpt from "Artie Q's Guide To Moving in LA"
Click the graphic, below for the book in iTunes

by Robin Thomas Quinn
© 2005

Friday, August 27, 2010

When the adult child returns home to care for the (now childlike) aged parent ...


Whew—what a roller coaster! Now, that should be the next ride @ Six Flags Magic Mountain. (If someone could only work out how to present it visually/actually, of course.)

For those of you who know me, this subject matter (within a song) will probably come as no surprise. I have returned to Britain to be of support to elderly parents. Dad is doing great for his age, but Mother is doing less well. As I write about everything in my life (someone said recently that the way I write lyrics makes them feel like I am undressing in public—Hah. Too Funny!), this topic has consumed me of late. And, I am a bit of an extremist ... ;)

So, I have been looking for the right piece of music to come along. Mister M/Mindmovie/The FutureDude/Mr. Ambassador posted a track the other week, that just screamed THIS ONE/ME/I HAVE ARRIVED! from 17 blocks away. As soon as I heard it I knew I had the vehicle to express my feelings on the subject, and somehow I managed to twist his arm. (Thank you very much, Achim for being so gracious/generous.)

Originally I wrote it very specifically about my mother, but then it took a more generic turn, from the carer's point of view, and, I think, communicates much better.

So without any further Ta-Da's, for all you carers out there (and I would love to hear your stories), I give you Just One More Moment

It's so unfair this getting old
Mum 'n Dad are childlike to you, now
They have been waiting for the one to set them free
And you are home, now, rest easy

The time we give the ones we love
We always want just one more time

One more moment in time/Just give me one more moment in time

Ever held the hand of one who's leaving?
You can feel the life blood slip away

You've thought about this moment for a long long time
And what you'd do, what would you do
Do your best, I'd guess—you'll never know now, until it happens to you

So many miles you've come to hold a hand
You would like to help them on their way
Now it seems you may be home, but they are going home
It's time to let them slip away now
It's that time; you've got to let them go

Just One More Moment
Music: Mindmovie
Vocals: Artie Q

For those of you who have expressed concern for me: don't worry, my friends. I fall apart; I put myself back together, again. :) Ma & Pa Say hi!

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Let's Not Be Beastly To The Alien Humanoid Coneheads, please!

Greetings From Another Planet ... and when I find out where that is, I'll let ya know!

Firstly, something I should get straight, here: I am not Artie Q. No, I am his alien conehead step brother. Artie has kindly allowed me to use this forum for this posting. OK, to business ...

Ain't there always some group that feels victimized, eh? ;) Initially, it was the chickens who, certainly after all this time feel that only under pain of death would they be foolish enough to "cross the road." (In chicken folklore many great poultry thinkers ponder how the stereotype of all those unfounded "Why did the chicken cross the road" jokes came about. I mean, are chickens usually found on busy streets ...? Hell No! They're either in a hutch or yard, so the likliehood of one lone winged type cogitating/complete with thought bubble about to ... cross the I-405 ... extremely unlikely, no?)

NOW, it's that other vociferous vocal lobbying body: Alien Humanoid Coneheads. I kid ye not! Not only do many Aliens feel they're unfairly the butt of Earth's stereotypical "humorous" stingers, but the Alien Humanoid Coneheads (AHC) have taken their greivances to a higher sensitive plane. It seems a wave of Earthling dignitaries who on a relations-improving visit to our planet, after a couple of alcoholic alien beverages thought to get "jiggy" with some of our more attractive females; hence we have a group of disenfranchised human-oid/alien conehead offsprings, like myself, who are neither fish nor fowl! (Neither alien or human.) The aliens don't like us and the humans make fun of us—What's up with that! So, we shall take the matter to the consciousness of all ... we shall be recognized! We shall not stop until we declare to the world(s), We are not victims!

"I'd like to thank the Acedemy, my agent, the mother ship I came to town in ... blah, blah, blah" Artie Alien.

Visit my page Artie Alien @ Myspace

 Click the image to listen & view:

Artie Alien

Monday, July 5, 2010

The Birthing. (Lyrics)

The Birthing

Music: Mindmovie
Lyrics: Artie Q/Robin Thomas Quinn
c 2008

Listen to The Birthing here: Artie Q @ SoundClick

There is a school of thinking that life's early traumas are too awesome for the undeveloped mind to cope with, so they are repressed and this unfelt repression forms the core that drives all early life & adult act outs ... interesting. What say you, BloggerPeeps? I'd love to know ...

I have wanted to pen a song along these lines for quite a while and it wasn't until the amazing Mindmovie came along with a track that so perfectly gave me the platform to spout—Hah! I just had to do it. Here is Mindmovie's Myspace page; he's a friggin whizz kid!

The Birthing. Lyrics:

As a tiny speck of life, he had a big decision to make. Should he go forward or back? Up or down? Left or right?
The determination, however, was made for him. A massive jolt to big mamma’s system sent him flying through a maze of underwater caverns. Murky tunnels beckoned him but he just went with the flow. Somehow he made it to shore and shimmied aboard a big white rock.
I’m so tired, I seem to have been swimming forever; if I can just lay here awhile and catch my breath, I’ll be better able to carry on.
So he lay his head down and the moment it hit that outer shell—
Wohhhh, he found himself falling down, down, tumbling towards the bottom ... bottom of what, though?
Wait a minute, I’m not falling, I’m floating.
He was inside what seemed to be a big translucent egg looking out at the scene he’d left some moments ago.
Is this a dream?


A storm was brewing outside, but he was nice and secure in his refuge. He waited and watched and conditions got worse. He didn’t want to leave but the membrane was getting thinner. Finally, the tide rose and carried him out into the ocean and the little balloon burst its skin in the angry waters, and he was back where he started.
Should I go forward? ... I think I’ll stay here.
He looked around for shelter. There was none. It was all the same—an underworld of wet shapeless form. There were bright lights and shrieks up ahead, and the big storm behind would certainly dash him against the rocks.
What to do, where to go? Best to wait ... surely, always best to wait?
The noise suddenly got very loud. Terrifying screams bore down on him as if Armageddon was right around the corner.


Though his innate sense was to stay perfectly still; like a man trapped inside a burning building who instinctively feels there is no choice but to jump, he turned and fled. Faster and faster he ran.
RAN, I’m running now—I’ve got legs. LEGS!
The snapping at his heals seemed to be gaining. The noise was deafening and the lights so raw, he could feel their heat.
I don’t want to die, if I could just find my egg. I could hide and make no sound and nothing would find me, nothing would hurt me. I‘m drowning in water, WATER? But I’m breathing. How? Nooo, they’ve got me. Big clamp ... on my leg pulling me. WAAAHHH, Nooooooooo—I Don’t Want To Dieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Some die at birth. Most live. Which is it to be for you? CHOOSE.
Blinded by a light in a sterile white room, he was upside down and drowning in fluid, till a hefty slap kick started the baby’s engine into drive. He formed new sounds and gulped first breaths: He had chosen LIFE!


Again, listen to The Birthing here: Artie Q @ SoundClick