Astro-Zombies

I gotta post something to bump my last post, since it has a song in my head that I’d rather not be experiencing right now.  Different people have different “palate cleansing” songs.  My bf’s mom uses Ode to Joy.  I’ve found Astro-Zombies by The Misfits is pretty good for me, but not 100% effective.  I think the more familiar I am with the earworm du jour, the easier it is to come right back.  This most recent one I haven’t heard in literal decades, but back when it was new?  Probably listened to it dozens of times.

What do you use to help dislodge and unwelcome song from your brainpiece?

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“You Can’t Hear Me Knocking” Sucks

You know that song by the Stones where on the chorus it sounds like Mick is shouting “Gimme nummy-nummies!”  I always forget the majority of that song’s runtime sounds like worse Santana.  Like instrumentally a very generic Santana song, but with half the guitar presence.  Strange call, guys.  I guess sometimes you don’t have an idea for where to go with your song and got an LP to fill.  “You Can’t Hear Me Knocking” sucks.

Lately the first five hours or so of my Fridays are spent drifting in and out of consciousness listening to music and recovering from general sleep deprivation and stress.  Not a bad time but easy to feel guilty about it, heh.  Happy Friday binches!

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The Moment Passed

I was perusing an artifact from about thirteen, fourteen years ago?  A strange work of art made in collaboration with another guy while we were working a job that gave us time to do things with our hands.  There’s a kind of intensity to it that boggles my mind – so much work went into this thing, so much creativity.  Makes me wonder – was that it?  The apex of my life, from which all else is downhill?  If so, that was a rather shameful waste of an entire human existence.  It is fundamentally not good.

Well, another year is dawning soon, and with that another opportunity to prove to myself that I can still make good stuff happen.  2022, Hell save us.

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Do Foolery

There was a video game called Monster Rancher once upon a time.  You trained monsters to fight, because cockfighting is for kids.  Sometimes a monster would lose its focus in a fight, and instead of a cool move, it would “do foolery.”  The tongue monster lolled its tongue around, the jelly monster turned into a question mark.

I’m tired of heavy subjects at the moment, and got no time for anything substantial anyhow, so allow me, for the moment, to do foolery.

what IS IT to poast or not to poste? can’t do. who talk is. I wansdgtrodk wto get me thru this smi-charmed kindalife babay babaywc;okvk nodlisnen when u say goodbyeeeeeee.  -Dpoijcfwoivjfeasx etedwsqk I’m mdwofijo  oof ouch owie bnsoaijc bleeeeeeah sdvcpok p gentlemen we have liftoff dw0owhy my titty hurt oisxiajpio io imma keep is xapok xs imma imma tank a nap.  Cool.

it’s your turn. sleepwalk thru my comments. express your inner nyquil. do foolery.

-o-

Lyrics Associations

Some people do Duolingo lessons both ways – in my case from English to German and German to English, alternately.  When signing into or out of Duolingo in German user interface, I found myself practicing words like “abmelden.”  Then when I switch to back to English UI, I found myself paying more attention to the phrases “sign in” and “log out” then I normally would.  Maybe it also has something to do with the fact I often go for a walk right after Duo, so I end up stating that as my intention out loud – “OK… I’m logging out.”

Anyway, the phrase “log out” and similar combos of one syllable words and “out” always make me think of the use of “black out” in Bauhaus’s “Lilies and Remains.”  While your boy David J is fleeing from ghost-ridden Peter Murphy, he hides in a locker – number 13 – and “barely concealed but hopeful, BLACK OUT.  BLACK OUT.”

So as I’m finishing my Duolingo at night, barely concealed but hopeful, I LOG OUT.  LOG OUT.

This is all not terribly interesting, but people don’t talk about these experiences in media very often and I wonder how universal they are – or are not.  Does practically everybody do this, at least sometimes in some ways, or is it only those on a grade toward Tourette’s or OCD or something?  Feel like some of my bloggy comrades may have something to say about that.

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EDIT TO ADD:  The God Emperor of Doing this Intentionally to Make Their Song Immortal has to be Nelly, who must be invoked literally any time anyone ever says the phrase, “It’s getting hot in here.”  Indeed, I wonder if he is profiting from global warming.

Thinking About Art

Song lyrics.  What do they mean?  Some people don’t even listen to the lyrics.  And I admit, when Ghostface Killah is talking about “sloo-footed penguins” ducking from “rap damians” I just take it for granted I will never understand those lyrics.  I could google it on genius.com but eh.  Anyway,

The song “More” by Sisters of Mercy.  The lyrics are about being in a relationship with somebody whose passion does not match your own and feeling incredulous about it.  “I don’t know why you gotta be so undemanding.”  I’m like, Andrew, this isn’t rocket science.  Sometimes it’s just like that, bro.  Better luck in the next relationship.

My problem is that song lyrics form some kind of giant index in my mind that is instantly accessed by common words and phrases.  Like if somebody says, “stop” as a one-word sentence, I might think of that part in the chorus of “How Sweet it Is,” or “Stop in the Name of Love.”  And if anybody wants more of anything, even if it’s cheerios, Andy Eldritch’s studio ladies start shrieking at me, “I NEED ALL THE LOVE I CAN GET, AND I NEED ALL THE LOVE THAT I CAN’T GET TOO.”

That’s the pattern.  Random mood or turn of phrase calls up a song lyric, then I ponder it for a minute, and get a head full of these kind of observations.  Thinking about art.  Sometimes, it’ll happen whether you want to or not.

I’ll end this with a song that came to my mind not from word association, just from mood.  It’s a quarter past midnight and life is looking kinda thorazine right now.  “Play it on ’til the dawn, I’ll be lonesome when I’m gone, Everything we done is wrong, Play it on ’til the dawn…”

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Is This Creep One of Ours?

It has come to my attention that the ancient moldy “venerable” webcomic “Sinfest” still exists – and has gone full terf.  This isn’t news because it happened some time ago, apparently.

The last I gazed upon its weird and copious pages was in art school close to twenty years ago.  At that time it struck me as being penned by a very virtuous hand, something of Walt Kelly’s talent in the lines, but wallowing in unoriginality on a perverse level.  Like the MCs were basically Calvin & Hobbes, except Calvin dressed like Bloom County’s Steve Dallas and Hobbes was a hot chick (TM) with a whale tail, baby doll tee, and what would become Karen hair.  The comic veered between slam poetry about weed and endless tedious discourse about xtianity that was inscrutable enough to come out a total wash.  I could not tell you if the artist was an atheist or an xtian.

That was then and I won’t give the creep traffic to see what it looks like now.  But from googling some discourse about it, some coincidences emerge.  The writer went swerf circa Elevatorgate, and went terf more recently.  Is this somebody who went with the progressive side of atheism but then followed people like OB out the terf hatch?  Or are they just british and this is a nothing?

Weird world, man.

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Work at Home Thoughts

The big boss sent out a video begging the employees to get vaccinated, explaining to the chuckleheads in kindergarten teacher style how safe and effective the vaccine is, that you can get paid time off for adverse effects, all kinds of good stuff.  I wondered to myself if the bathroom mirror still had a meme taped to it reading, “Keep Calm and Wash Your Hands,” like it did when we were sent home around the turn from March to April in 2020.  Hmm…

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