Sometimes I wonder what my neighbors think about me. And I pity them. Or I would if they weren't guilty of the same sins. I tend to be very quiet, and when I'm not? I'm very noisy. I have impromptu solo dance parties if something on the radio or playlist seems apropos (and given that my typical playlist can give a normal human whiplash, well, it seems apropos at odd moments). And despite being begged to not sing by certain acquaintances, watching James Bond films inspires my best imitation of Shirley Bassey in the shower. Making an omelet for dinner requires singing "Omelette" (you know, to the tune of Alouette-- Omelette/ Gentille omelette/ Omelette/ Je te mangerais/ Je te mangerais les oeufs... etc), even though I'm hoarse and phlegm-y and even flatter than usual. Because singing "Omelette" while making an omelet is just something I do. Even though my neighbor was standing outside my kitchen door listening to me sing "Omelette".
And now, while trying to write YET. ANOTHER. PAPER. that's due in about, oh, 14 hours, I've gone from Christmas carols to Rob Zombie to Big Bad Voodoo Daddy to Gnarls Biggie smashups to Jonathan Coulton to ANGRY!Smashing Pumpkins to Sam Spence/ NFL Films to the Clarks to Fatboy Slim to David Bowie to Tom Waits to Robbie Williams to Tom Jones remixed to Nick Cave to Eminem. At maximum volume. And I'm so very confused that the most recent Pearl Jam single sounds like the Foo Fighters, who are on hiatus despite releasing a greatest hits album, the latest single off which sounds like the Clarks, whose latest single sounds.. like the Clarks, actually, which is good because they're aural comfort food for native Pittsburghers of a certain age. And speaking of Foo Fighters, Dave Grohl is playing drums behind John Paul Jones and that whole thing is so bizarre to listen to. But I can't not.
Alright. Brain dumped. Back to writing. I forgot that Pink Floyd is excellent background music for working-- but I also forgot that Wish You Were Here still raises tears over heartbreak over a decade past.
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