4. Every time you type the phrase "saucer of milk," you computer meows.
Thanks, Dave.
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror this evening watching the puffy pale-bluish skin beneath my right eye twitch roughly twice a second. It was fascinating, like a tiny tree frog.
notes to self:
- Quit eating crap. You know better.
- You sit in front of a damn computer screen all day. Is it really necessary to continue this during your off hours?
- And how bout that social life, eh?
- You could use to get off your ass every once in a while, you know.
- Maybe you ought to ask yourself "If I disappear tomorrow, will anybody care?"
- You know the answer is yes; how bout doing something to earn that gift?
- Selfish bastard.
Another satisfied customer!
mkb says re American Beauty: well, thank god this isn't about that freaking movie AGAIN
This was my original submission for bol's homenode challenge. Unfortunately it was over twice the maximum length allowed:
Out of each of the glistening raindrops that fell like tiny cats from the starry ever-spinning night sky and touched down ever-so-softly on the gently-swaying trees before evaporating like so many dreams ascending to heaven on feathered wings of gilded platinum to touch the face of their goddess, none could ever truly encompass the ache of longing he felt after coming to the realization that her regrets were nothing if not gossamer feathers on the lone dove sent to lead humanity on the path to true enlightenment.
I have this idea. Well, it's a morphing of two ideas. Three at the most. If you read through it and tell me if you see anything nodeworthy I'll send you a haiku or something of similar value.
1. I love music. I'm a trained musician as well, so chances are if I'm not making music, I'm listening to it. And the combination of being trained to listen through the music and pay attention to what all the intruments are doing and the desire to listen to as much music as possible means I have volumes of music stored away in the places in my head where my schooling should have gone.
I first realized this during the long, hot, boring summer I worked in a factory because it payed somewhat better than minimum wage. A factory that bottled and packaged various noxious chemicals to be sold as cleaning supplies. A facory where if you were not a forman or a machine operator, you were performing repetitive tasks for which there was no piece of machinery to perform. Stuff like grabbing spray bottles off of the assembly line, checking that the labels had gone on right, and sticking it in a box. When the box is full, push it through the taping machine. Lather, rinse, repeat. And with eight hours of mindless activity a day, my brain found activities with which it could amuse itself, such as playing through entire song, hearing each of the parts in my head. Listening to Paul Desmond play his solo in "Take Five" or the twisted nursey rhyme in the third movement of Mahler's 1st, all in my memory. Radiohead's "Paranoid Android" was the best: Three guitars, three vocalists, bass, latin percussion and set drums. Thus my noisy mind whiled away the stifling months.
2. Farenheit 451. Books are banned and burned, so the book-lovers go underground, keeping the books they knew from disappearing forever by keeping them in their memories and telling the stories to others. Can you see where this is heading?
3. In the 1960s US reactionaries burned records by pop/rock groups because they were believed to be evil or immoral. From what I understand a much more extreme situation existed in Taliban-controlled Afganistan. Connecting these three points together leads me to the interesting conclusion that if I were ever subjected to an authoritarian government where music was outlawed, I would happily go underground to make sure the old musical compositions were not lost forever.
OK, so it's an odd thing to think about. Maybe a manifestation of my life's lack of any strong goals or beliefs. Sort of like the Talking Heads' "Life During Wartime". David Byrne