Quont's Questions: What is your favorite song?

Quont's Question 20: What is your favorite song?

My favorite song is "Changes" by Phil Ochs. If you're unfamiliar with it, there is a short video clip of Phil below, though not the entire song unfortunately.

If you want to hear the entire song, go here. The young man plays it fairly well, though he is not the singer Phil was.

Phil took his own life in 1976, a victim of depression and alcoholism. During his career, which spanned the '60s and early '70s, he wrote some of the most poignant and evocative songs ever to arise from the peace-and-protest folk scene. I miss him.

I am a(n)...

This is in response to my sister Lucia's first art-blogging prompt, entitled "I am a(n)...". Some people will already have seen this image, I know, but I don't think I can improve on it (and secretly am rather proud of the way it turned out).



If you care to see the full-sized version of this image, simply click the pic to the right and a new browser window will open. Have a great day, and keep on fooling around.



Canu

Quont's Question 18: Inspired

The times when I'm extremely tired
Are often when I'm most inspired.
Exhaustion seems to work for me;
That, and coffee or strong tea.

I get each night, I do confess,
Four hours' sleep, no more, no less.
I sit until the hours wee,
Bathed in the light of my P-C.

Ideas do come and ideas go.
They flicker, flit, and sometimes glow.
I grasp them as I sit enrapt,
And clasp the few that I have trapped.

Sooner or later one will shine,
Declare itself devoutly mine,
And show the path to move along
To write a story or a song.

By gleaming moon or shimmering star,
These my Muses were and are.

A Ticklish Situation

This question leaves me in a pickle.
Do you think I'd be fun to tickle?
Ticklish is as ticklish does.
I sometimes wasn't, sometimes was.
Much depends upon my mood.
At times it makes me come unglued.
Other times I'll calmly sit
And tell you that you're full of it.
"Full of what?" you ask. Who knows?
Perhaps what fed this lovely rose.
Tickle the rose and sure as you're born
Your fingertips will find the thorn.

By the way, my uncle Quont's Castrati are very, very ticklish. If you don't believe me, try it yourself. They'd love for someone to stop by and give them some test tickles.