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Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Philosophy, Lesbian Artists and Cannibal Movies: Something For Everyone

I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned before how my big sister Z very much encouraged me to write when I was younger. She read a poem I wrote at school and she suggested I get a notebook and write poems in it. So I did. The very first poem to go in it was short and sweet and quite philosophical for a ten year old. It was called Why?

Why I am?
I do not know,
Why I am me?
Why is it so?

And the thing is, I had really thought about this. I wanted to know why I was me, Hannah Bobo, and not somebody else. I didn't ponder it in a green-eyed way. I had no desire to be anyone else but I wanted to know why I existed and why I looked the way I looked and behaved the way I behaved. It was the start of my quest to figuring life out and it's probably why I reacted so badly to puberty, because I'd just started asking the important questions at an age where my body, and whole life, was about to change dramatically and I hadn't figured out the answer of who I was and why I was me before puberty hit and I started acting all moody and nonchalant.

I did some other writing that I probably threw away because it embrassed me but I wrote another one when I was 12 or 13 inspired by a picture my friend drew of me. I've turned it into a song now that's a bitch to play but I can already hear a nice trombone or clarinet melody to go with it. It's called Eily Was An Artist.

Eily was an artist,
She drew a picture of me,
There was something wrong with it,
She made me far too pretty.

She took me to her bedroom,
Where we stayed for most the night,
She said she'd like to hold me,
Just to get the feeling right.

Eily held me tight,
Then she beagan to draw me,
She looked into my eyes,
And she told me I was pretty.

Eily was an artist,
She drew a picture of me,
She liked to draw with her hands,
And tell me I was pretty.

I remember showing it to mum and she might have told me it was good had she not been slightly worried about the content. But my innocence was long gone when, at the tender age of 10, I walked in to find Nellybert watching The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover just at the scene where some dude's being forced to eat a dead man's cock. It is really no wonder I enjoy a good cannibal movie.


Rob Z Tobor said...

I do like to write a bit of poetry although mine is always silly and a bit dodgy in terms of actually being poetry. . . I even wrote Poetry for Fairy Tales today only about an hour ago on my blog.

It is excellent you are turning your own words into songs. . .today a trombone tomorrow the world.

I have not watched the film you mention. . . . I might just leave watching it now, not that I was planning too.

hootchinhannah said...

I read your Poetry for Fairy Tales and it was not silly at all. Ok, it was a little bit silly but it was good silly. There are many more weird and wonderful films I could decommend to you but that's one I'll never forget!

Jakes said...

Lovely tune. That's the first time I have seen all of the words. Very nice. x