Friday, July 13, 2012

Yonder 3

Remember Zounds?

Wait a minute, just hair me out....

Tee hee



Anyway, "Zounds" was a book we had when we were kids.

It taught you how to make all kinds of sound effects with just your mouth. The author was like a mouth sound effect genius or something.

I remember listening to the sample record it came with and thinking, "How can that be a person?? It sounds just like a saxophone....just like it...there's no way". 

The allure of the eerily accurate sound effect for a young boy cannot be overstated. 

It is the first of only a few plateaus on the mountainside stairway to perfection.

There was one sound in particular that I was determined to make my own: the mighty trumpet of the elephant.

The included diagram left nothing to the imagination: 
 I practiced that elephant trumpet day and night, honing its shape, its character.

In my mind was an entire back story for this elephant: his name was Kimu and he lived in the jungle.

Sometimes he ate stuff.

When no one was around, I let myself become Kimu; I shuffled around on my hands and knees, feeling the great weight of my body, the weird folds in my sun-parched skin, the flies mercilessly tormenting the vulnerable flaps of my colossal ass.

And each morning, when the sun would rise, Kimu would rear back his mighty head and give forth with an earth-shaking trumpet.

Man become elephant, become rooster-like in its sense of timing, become man again. 

Become a boy, on the floor, hoping no one was around to hear him practicing hilarious zounds.

So what happened?

What happened??

Icarus happened.

Napoleon happened.

God happened.

I don't understand....

Damn you, hair! Nothing in meaning, everything in sound. 

But I will tell you....

Easter brunch had arrived, and relatives had gathered.

Around the table, we all sat.

My proud of his....(sniff) of his son....
.....invited me to make a trumpet for the assembled family.

Kimu's moment of glory was here at last.

I pressed my lips together, faced the expectant gaze of aunts, uncles, and cousins, and let the jungle use me.

A sound like a suppressed fart circled lamely about the four corners of the room.

Faces froze, eyes hardened.

There was that dreadful deflation that occurs when people realize they will have to pretend they like something.

And Kimu?

Died in my throat, died in my heart under the pressure I brought crashing down upon myself.

I had a talent, Hair, and I let the deep void in my self-confidence swallow it.

I choked.

This blog is becoming a Zound; I keep letting my own doubt, my fear of failure, stifle my trumpet.

And because I am tired, because it is late, Gweenbrick hits 'publish' and comes home.



  1. WOOOOOOHOOOOOO. Epic, Gween.... Epic

  2. Sniff sniff. I also have lost my trumpet...but...'It's the internet - there's is always someone worse than me' has to become my mantra.
    So spot on Gween.

  3. My favorite imitation is to do Elmer Fudd trying to sing like Willie Nelson. I have performed this fearlessly in public to very smaLL audiences on at least three occassionnss. My loss of hair has been in sync with my brothers so that we now appear close to being triplets.

  4. "Colossal Ass" was easily my favourite moment here. I'm glad that your hair had a roll though and I thought that your hair was much gentler with you then your brain is.

  5. Your talent makes me cry into my juice/water mixture. I have yet to say that anywhere else.

  6. Gween can't go home yet!!!!

  7. Don't you dare let it die. I'll never forgive you. Just post something. Write and draw, or don't draw. Doesn't matter. What matters is that you keep this alive. You don't want to make me angry. Not a threat...yet.

  8. I don't think I've ever seen something so funny/touching at the same time.


  10. Welcome back, GB.... Welcome back. And leave the hair. Hair is a young man's folly. Also? It's probably pretty narly and full of fleas, ticks, and pine needles by now, since it's apparently been hanging around in the forest all these years.

  11. Next T-Shirt has to be the open-mouthed gape, fifteenth drawing in... Classic.

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  13. Oops, typed a type of typo there.

    Your blog is better than 99% of the internet.

    Abandoning it would be akin to leaving a talking kitten on the side of the motorway. A talking kitten wearing a rainbow cloak inset with usable crayons. And crapping A4 paper.

    Exactly like that.