Flash and Moon

Those are their names. Really.

And I don’t think you have to ask who’s Flash and who’s Moon. This is their story, also kind of a song.

Once there was this woman who

grew very tall one day and couldn’t fit inside her home any more

And when she finally came to terms with her new size

she left her town to see the world

* * *

Once there was this man who

got into an accident and started to shrink small

And when he finally saw he wouldn’t get any tinier

he left his home to see the world

* * *

And both woman and man were glad

’cause no one had it better than they had

* * *

‘Cause then there was this woman who

met this little man who understood the way she felt

And when she fell in tall love

he fell in love with her too

They couldn’t quite explain it

it was as though they’ve always felt that way

There really wasn’t a “scene” that went with this collage when I created it. I saved this Sandra Bullock image three years ago when I was looking for good ones of her to modify to suit my gigantic thoughts. This one wasn’t the best, or the clearest, but at that time it made me smile to imagine myself in her place, irreverent and mischievous as I flash an entire city (I think I envisioned some nice undies for myself, though), in response to their passing legislation against the usual state of undress in giantesses.

Your Tiny People rules don’t apply to us, you see. Our nude is belong to us.

Anyway, I forgot all about it until 2007, when while sifting through my collages-for-my-blog material, I spotted it again. I still had no little story to go with it, but some things I had read online on a board… some giantess board, its name I can’t possibly remember… about some members protesting collages because male “junk” was visible.

There’s a part of me that understands, but there’s another part of me that thinks, “I don’t believe I’ve ever witnessed a female member protest the countless collages that involve female private parts, yet we do see some men protesting the visible male ones. What’s that about?” In the end, there are always going to be some people protesting something. Too much nudity, too little, not enough giantess action, too much intelligent dialogue, not beautiful enough, not girl-next-door enough, not enough points, too many threads, not enough- Ah, you get the point.

I’m more the type that keeps her trap shut and clicks on what she wants, or better yet, makes the sort of stuff she wants to click on while complaining about stuff on her blog.

Which brings me to this here collage. There’s that woman, you know her as the actress that she is, but for my collage she becomes an extension of me. She’s spirited, loving, possessive, thoughtful, often irreverent and definitely naughty. She prefers to expose her dirty thoughts to this one little guy that warms her heart, though. Not the whole town, or the world. Just that one Little Man that gets to look up and see all that she has to offer, the one that inspires her to grab that skirt hem and smile as she shows him the rest of his life.

Or the afternoon, at least. Little guys get tired so quickly. tsk tsk

Crash Test Dummies – Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm

He’s My Tiny

A repost from my old blog.

He wants to shrink too.

Lesley Gore performed songs that were hits before my time, but made their way into the soundtracks of ’80s movies I watched and liked. Four years ago, in December of 2004, I must have been watching Sixteen Candles or some other such movie when I thought of changing the lyrics of “It’s My Party” by Lesley Gore, into “He’s My Tiny”.

I love breaking into plagiarized song, especially when I modify lyrics to fit those very special, tall thoughts of concocting a shrinking formula (that’s what I refer to when I sing about “mixing ingredients”) and making a man very tiny and breaking the law and abducting him against his will and keeping him forever even though he had a different plan for his life.

Nobody knows where my Johnny has gone
I’m thinking of him all the time
Why was he gone from my hand
When he’s supposed to be mine

He’s my tiny, and he’ll shrink if I want to
Shrink if I want to, shrink if I want to
You would shrink too if I happened to you

Mixin’ ingredients, keep plottin’ all night
Leave me alone for a while
‘Til Johnny’s shrinking for me
I’ve got no reason to smile

He’s my tiny, and he’ll shrink if I want to
Shrink if I want to, shrink if I want to
You would shrink too if I happened to you

My darling Johnny might walk through the door
Like a king for his queen
Oh what a Christmas surprise
if I could make him my ring

He’s my tiny, and he’ll shrink if I want to
Shrink if I want to, shrink if I want to
You would shrink too if I happened to you

Lesley Gore – It’s My Party

Dollhouse Blues

I posted this at my old blog, and I wasn’t planning on allowing it to see the light of day again, but I received a request for a repost, so here it goes.

It’s cheesy, and it makes me feel like Elizabeth Shue in Adventures in Babysitting, except without the fake applause from a crowd that should have wielded tomatoes.

Ghosts of Blues Past, pray forgive me.

People that are sick of the “g” being dropped from the end of words, especially by politicians, I beg your pardon. I wrote this song a long time before the presidential campaign sank its teeth into proper grammar.

To be sung while simultaneously laughing and crying. Guitar or blindness are not prerequisites.

There ain’t no deeper kinda hurtin’

Than the one a roamin’ man gives

Pants and shoes, ties and shirt in

A little bag that says he leaves

.

Can’t you hear me baby, booming ‘cross the floor?

Can’t you feel my heart, a thunder you can’t ignore?

Can’t you hear my weeping past the kitchen door?

‘Cause inside it feels like I won’t see you no more

.

The dollhouse in the bedroom lonely

The dollhouse in the backyard full

I see you ‘cross a few feet only

Distance cackling in a way called cruel

.

Why you lean and smile baby, rubbing salt on the wound?

Why you tell me you’re there just one summer afternoon?

Why you giggle and boss me around, tellin’ me to come over?

When gone is gone, be it worlds or backyard I must cover

.

‘Cause you belong on me, in me, with me

And you are mistaken if you think this is a plea

Come I will, and grab by hand my roamin’ man

My dollhouse blues gone red with the fire you fan

.

Bessie Smith – Empty Bed Blues

Stay Cool, Boy

I put this entry up on my old blog last summer, probably about a year ago, during one of those extra hot days. I find hot weather much more pleasant this year, and that’s one mental shift I don’t quite get. Years past I’ve bellyached incessantly about how hot it is, and how uncomfortable the heat makes me feel, and this year not only am I unable to muster any energy in the same direction, but I’m actually grateful for the warmth.

Something else I don’t get is why in the sphincter of hell I’m admitting I spent any time whatsoever thinking of the “songs” I’m posting below. Now they seem to trip and fall face first on the ridiculous. I’m not sorry I worked on the collage, though. It’s one of my favorites among my own, despite the seven levels of torture that was to work on that water.

Pool toys

About four or five years ago I grabbed a notebook and wrote made-up lyrics from West Side Story songs. I told myself a little story about my left shoe or foot being the West Side, and my right one the East Side.

The foundation of this idea was that for a small man, say a man only two inches in height, a foot of such gigantic size (two in my case) would be a multifaceted playground; each of geography so varied to his size, of proportions so monumental that they would begin to take life of their own, obviously on a primitive level, the one that spoke to early men and told them the sky was full of gods (“My stars, it’s full of gods!“), and the ocean full of monsters.

In addition to that, I had also just watched West Side Story again, and the songs were floating in my head nearly every day.

Anyway, each toe was a gang member I think, and the East Side gang called themselves The Lints. Somehow, in the middle of all this, my Little One and I developed a sort of bullying, bizarre love story where I was both the main interest, and the opponent. It’s best not to try to make much sense of it, but it was, as all of this, very entertaining for my mind.

I can’t find all the lyrics I invented, especially my favorite, One Hand, One Heart, but here are some I did find.

From the Jet Song:

Here comes [my name]:

Little world, step aside!

Better go underground

Better run, better hide!

I Feel Pretty:

“See that little man in that sandal there? (What sandal? where?)

Who can that wee tiny man be? (who? what? when? where?)

Such a little head, such a little smile, such a little face…”

Tonight:

The doc* is gonna have her way tonight

The doc is gonna have her way tonight

I’ll shrink him to 2 inches, unfair height!

but if he starts a rumble, I’ll stomp him right

And what I’m singing tonight, because of this hot weather, even though the lyrics don’t have a thing to do with that kind of temperature:

Cool:

Boy, boy, tiny boy,
Get cool, boy!
Wriggly small pet in my pocket,
Keep coolly cool, boy!

Don’t get hot,
‘Cause man, you’ve got
To keep a cool head
When I grow don’t let fear show,
When I lift you up and go to bed!

Boy, boy, little boy!
Stay loose, boy!
Breeze it, buzz it, easy does it.
Turn on the juice, boy!

Go man, go,
But not on my toe, no, schoolboy.
Just play it cool, boy,
Real cool!

Leonard Bernstein – West Side Story, The Dance at the Gym

*As in the female doc that invents a shrinking formula. Namely me.