Tonight is the dreaded Shrove Tuesday Talent Show at my church, where I will be performing a song. As in, singing it. Plus playing it on my guitar. Which equals INEVITABLE FAIL.
I haven’t sang in front of people since I hit that awkward age where not really being able to carry a tune became not so cute. And I’ve NEVER played guitar in front of people. People who actually wanted to hear it, anyway.
I still haven’t decided what I’ll be performing. The program (which was inserted into the church bulletin on Sunday morning) says, “[Cautionary Girl]-Song.” I like that. Keeps ’em on their toes and allows me to wait until I actually begin playing the damn song to decide.
But it’ll probably be one of these, only with worse guitar playing and worse singing:
I’m leaning towards “Gatekeeper” because, well, God is the Gatekeeper, isn’t he? And also because Lent is all about new seasons. That last bit of hellish home stretch until spring and Easter and rebirth and resurrection and alleluia. D.H. Lawrence wrote that humans are inextricably tied to seasons, and that the church recognized this and therefore appropriated the seasons to its calendar to keep us all in perpetual harmony with the universe. I like that.
In other news, I think I’m giving up cussing for Lent. Not FOREVER, mind you. Just for 40 agonizing days. I’ll be spending every second until the priest puts the ashes on my forehead tomorrow thinking up as many hilarious euphemisms as I can.
When I told someone I was planning on giving up cussing for Lent, he said that really should include euphemisms as well, and I said FUCK NO. In the true spirit of Mardi Gras.