Paulette's Rockridge CD Essay Contest
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| This is the Rockridge CD's cover art. |
Today, Paulette realized that her landmark opus, Rockridge, is still over 10 years old, and in an effort to celebrate this amount of time passing, she is holding an essay contest. Each contesting essayist must explain in 300 words or more how Paulette's Rockridge album changed their lives. The winner of the contest will get a 12" x 16" oil painting of Eddie's Liquor/Video painted by Paulette, and it will look much like, if not exactly like the painting shown below.
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| This may be the prize. |
The deadline for entries is May 31, 2015. Writing teams are allowed.
2nd place will receive an autographed Rockridge CD.
3rd place will receive an autographed Rockridge CD
Winners will be announced July 4, 2015 at 9:00 p.m.
Send your essays to paulette at pauletteinternational dot com.
Listen to the album HERE.
posted by paulette @ 3:54 PM
3 Comments:
My essay is ready. I'm sure I'll figure out how to submit it eventually. Please consider sharing the essays you get when the contest is over. I'm sure they will be a blast to read.
When I beheld Paulette's CD Rockridge I sighed, and said within myself, "Surely Paulette is a broomstick!" Nature sent her into the world strong and lusty, in a thriving condition, wearing her own hair on her head, the proper branches of this reasoning vegetable, till the axe of intemperance has lopped off her green boughs, and left her a withered trunk; she then flies to art, and puts on a periwig, valuing herself upon an unnatural bundle of hairs, all covered with powder, that never grew on herhead; but now should this our CD pretend to enter the scene, proud of those birchen spoils it never bore, and all covered with dust, through the sweepings of the finest lady's chamber, we should be apt to ridicule and despise its vanity. Partial judges that we are of our own excellencies, and other men's defaults!
When Listen to Paulette's music I SEE GOD. the sound of it makes me feel like I have an awful itch down below in an embarrassing unpublic place: I scratch and scratch but I can never get enough. The frogs sing throaty melodies and the birds flap their wings to the divine rhythm. Heaven descends out of the clouds dripping wet and insects buzz out of dark dank holes. I fell like I'm on the weirdest strongest drug and my brain fries in the pan along with breakfast. Colorful Clowns come out of my closet and sine my shoes. The sky opens and I see the universe as it is - one pile of enormous quivering happiness. The music reminds me of murder of ravens singing raucously from the trees. Would it be that the Masters on High open their gullets and spew forth such glory.
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