pink lemonade for a blue girl

Pink Lemonade for a Blue Girl 2

this is a pink song about feeling blue…

it’s a gentle track, with a hint of ASMR about it and, perhaps, an unexpected time signature change.

it’s a song about summer feels… a song about the sea, its melancholy and escape.

“Pink Lemonade for a Blue Girl” is the 3rd of 13 or so songs from my debut solo album, Year Zero.

this song is available to LISTEN TO / BUY on bandcamp

“Pink Lemonade for a Blue Girl” will also be available on all other digital platforms to download and/or stream… iTunes, Spotify, Napster, Deezer, GooglePlay, AppleMusic, TikTok, Soundcloud, YouTube etc etc etc…

(c)(p) written & performed by Miaow McDonald

engineered/co-produced by Robert Davidson, the ‘Aged Choir Boy’.

Miaow McDonald: Vocals, Guitars, Piano & Synth
Additional Musicians:
Robert Davidson: Drums, Tuned Percussion and odd field recordings
Joshua Jamieson aka CyberneticZ: Accordion



love is cutting each other’s hair with a samurai sword


images and words are, to me, inextricably linked.  words can paint as vivid a picture of a person, an animal, a beautiful vista or a situation as memorably as a timeless photograph or a painting.  words can also make memories.  images are memories, past and new.

for me, there is another voice. music. song. rhythm. harmony.

as writer, photographer and musician, i crave all three. i crave them.  for me, one does not exist without the other, or the other two.

i hear music in my lover’s heartbeat. i hear music in traffic and the cacophony of voices on a city’s subway.  i see stories unfold before me, when i look into the eyes of a tiger.  i see my lifestory in the eye of a wild horse. i can taste colour. i can smell the rain before it falls.  perhaps i walk to a different drum beat than most. i find beauty in the mundane – words, scribbled on an abandoned piece of paper in the gutter;  scarecrows;  a dead moth in a broken lightbulb;  a dead deer lying burst open at the side of the road; fallen spirals of orange peel.

for me, image (both moving and still) does not exist in isolation.  there is a soundtrack, there is music, there are voices and rhythms, and colour, in everything around me.  words do not just hang in the air, like clouds.  they move. they hit. they often resound and reverberate, resonating deep inside.  words, too, have colour and form and their own unique fragrance.   music is in everything. it is our oldest form of communication.  there is rhythm in life – its seasons, our lives, and the patterns and archetypes we define ourselves by.

for me, this trinity, is all that i am.

twice, we have travelled around the sun twice…



love is a strange entity.  its power and grace can overwhelm and overturn.  it can even bring a country to its knees. it is something we all succumb to. it is consuming and transporting and, if done right, it never leaves you.  it tugs at you, it keeps you awake at night. it overrides your need for food and water. it is addictive.  it is the most powerful entity in the universe.  and when you meet someone that seems to be a reflection of you and all you aspire to be, someone who hijacks your thoughts on awakening and your hypnagogic dreamstate, then the world around you can become a very strange and beautiful place. a better place, but a wondrous and strange place – almost a surreality.

one day, a bird fell from the sky and landed on my lap.  it was a sign.  a sign that my life was about to change.  and it did.

Robert and i found each other in a storm.  love, born in a storm.  and we have clung to each other ever since, knowing that we have something powerful, something unique and something that many have envied.  the beginning wasn’t easy.  people we thought were friends preyed upon us, like a shiver of sharks;  each with their own agenda, waiting for a weakness to appear – even trying to divide and conquer.

but we are stronger than that, because we have loved before…

i sought counsel from a tiger.  he told me not to be afraid, just as i was not afraid of him; as he, this 800lb cat, took meat from my hands with all the tenderness of small child.

and so, we embarked on this journey.  we have travelled twice around the sun and have come to learn that all we have and all that we are are the most important things in life.

“nurture & protect”

we are both musicians, writers and visual artists. that was the arena in which we first came to know one another and acknowledged a mutual respect. but it was music that brought us to this point, this journey, this pilgrimage.

and we are but Pilgrims; seeking truth, love and spiritual nourishment in this life.  a life together.

through this journey, our lives have been inextricably fused with music, images and words.  and the journey journeys on as we make soup at 4am;  make love in public libraries;  make travel plans to visit volcanic islands and to fall sleep on desolate beaches; make memories – old and yet to savour, like paprika tea.   we forge songs.  we laugh. we laugh a lot.   we share the same need to be connected, to be connected with nature… the universe, with our selves to ourselves, and to each other.

we have cut each other’s hair with a samurai sword and we have stared into deepest space, with our backs to the sun, and marvelled at our universe, knowing that we have loved before…

T H I S    I S    O U R    S O N G S ……

WILDERNESS (parts 1 & 2, part 3 available later this year, with accompanying film) – FEEL FREE TO TAKE FOR FREE… OR LEAVE A LITTLE GIFT!

PART ONE:  a lone wolf, wild horses, a familiar fox and a room full of 100 butterflies… (click and listen…)

ep art1

PART TWO:  seeking counsel from a tiger, a playful wolverine,  charming bees, humming bird kisses and a shiver of sharks… (click and listen…)

wilderness part 2 COVER

PART THREE:  coming later this year, with accompanying film….

ALL songs inspired (mostly) by my poetry and prose (all of which can be found in my ‘older posts’)

ALL SONGS & MUSIC  (C)(P) Pilgrims UK, Robert Davidson & Kat McDonald










a cracked rib. a thorn in my side. [fuck!] seering pain. seeing stars. [don’t move, Kathryn… just close your eyes and breathe…]

i yearn for sleep. a sleep unbroken. the legs feel like sand, heavy; but head and hands are light as air.  the mind, coiled like a cobra in a basket. waiting. the imagination, untethered like a cloud, drifts eagerly above and beyond. the body, grounded, upon a bed of cotton and fur* but it may as well be a bed of nails. i cannot recall my last seven hour sleep. it has been weeks of dotted hours. the air i breathe is lilac to the touch.

prescription painkillers and a scribe are all i have in sight. they are all the entertainment i have tonight. this pain. driving me mad. but the visions are nice. my write hand, seemingly in zero-gravity, struggles to stay down upon the page. inside, i rage. i am invalid. the worst kind of invalid. i will bite. it is going to be the longest night. [you think this is trite, don’t you? fuck you!]

oranges illuminate the world outside. so pretty. the gentle hum of traffic in the distance is a not altogether unpleasant accompaniment to my own breathing. all is still.

i look up at Sirius with his head bowed; pining the death of his master, his starman.  [after all, all that is left are dying stars to illuminate this life… now that our brightest is gone]

“are you lonely?” i yell.

his voice is thin and white; but i hear him through my skin.

(c) Kat McDonald 2016

image: NASA, of course.

*faux, naturally…


they are just words…


mother  never   chant  dream     crush sweet        recall   water   drive   peach         friend   honey   light                 music   please

   drunk   smell              forest      breast    through   those     shine   spring                smooth   could

 storm   purple   frantic  watch    smear   finger   summer     did

 her      all   fast   mad his   raw   sun     rip   sit                        time

head   from   the     rain   meat                                              lake    have   mist              suit   want    skin  from   lust                cool    sing   play      less   bare     milk

wind   shot

pant   feet      fluff   some   rust   lazy                 hair

 ship   away   need   beat   lick   ache   with  want  stop   butt said   enormous   petal  the   you

 language   when  the our

gorgeous    swim              the  and           repulsive    soar  wax   you    luscious   moan     him  you   whisper   about    was       ask   goddess   above                            why  say   delirious     blue               who   and bitter     blood               sordid   woman   pound heave    garden         picture  puppy    spray                 trudge    beneath    fiddle

  drool              though  languid    moon    sweat                             scream   shadow   lather   juice    beauty   worship   death    mean  tongue   sausage               hot             TV   day    cry   run   sea    use   lie   arm   have                pink   like     the   blow                  over  here   like live

show    rock  pole    like   life          balance   pool   black  will  urge   their   girl   there   tiny   were  men   can           these  boil                      must  love  what             with  how

 rose   you              gown   has  but                they  together

boy  red    man  symphony    sky  sleep    but  elaborate        eat              and   dress  apparatus   bed   and  still     thousand   sad   put  after              diamond   one  not  ugly