Posts Tagged Beatles

In the wee hours

Five thoughts that occurred to me in the middle of the night while waiting for a bottle to heat up:

  1. My Spam folder for my work email makes me nervous.  After I select all of the crappy emails, I need to confirm that I indeed mean to permanently delete them.  However, there’s no such confirmation needed if I accidentally hit the button next to “Delete” which reads “This is not junk.” So every single time I go to clear out my spam, I get a little nervous that I might end up mistakenly saying, “Sorry, Spam Filter, but I would love it if you could please send the fake Rolex, university degree, penis enlargement, and debt consolidation emails directly to my inbox from now on.” 
  2. I feel like people in movies don’t react properly to lightning and thunder.  I’ve never once seen a person say, “Ooh, that was a big one.  Did you see that one?” And with particularly large bolts of lightning, I get ready for some large corresponding thunder, but I don’t see anyone doing that on the big screen either.  (By the way, I didn’t enjoy typing “thunder” after seeing the team of the same name throttle my hometown Lakers in the last game.  The series is still tied, but come on Lakers, it’s time to wake up and put them away.  Exert your will, or some other shit that Phil Jackson would say.)
  3. I got a line from the poem “To His Coy Mistress” by Andrew Marvell in my head somehow in the middle of the night.  I used to have it memorized (for a class, of course), and though it’s been over a decade, I think I still have a bunch of it floating around somewhere in there.  I should look it up and give it a read.  Great poem, and one that with the proper instruction I think could get a lot of high school students into poetry.  “So this one’s about a guy who’s trying to convince a chick that they should bone.”  You’re telling me that won’t perk up a few students’ ears?
  4. Here’s a thought I never had before becoming a father: “Everything was going great until she shit all over herself just before midnight.”   Oh wait, I have had that thought before: Cabo, ’01.  Now that was a party!
  5. My friend who is getting married next weekend asked me to choose a song to be played during my introduction to the reception.  Just 15-20 seconds, he said.  I gave it way too much thought before settling on the opening beat to “You Know My Name, Look Up the Number” by The Beatles (who must’ve been stoned out of their gourds when they recorded that one).  I came up with another song in the middle of the night and then quickly discounted it.  Alkaline Trio has a song called “My Friend Peter,” which would be cool in theory, but might not fit the setting too well.  I’d have liked to pick a part with the titular phrase in it (heh heh, “titular”), but even a ten-second clip would have this to say: “I’d much rather be drinking anyway with my friend Peter who lives so fucking far away.”  No way to make that work, so I’ll keep it as it’s set and just get a little strut on to the music of some high British folk.

Have a good day, everyone.  May all your bottles warm quickly.

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I’ve got Next

Green DayI enjoy many small pleasures in life, and I’d like to share one of them with you.  I’ll call it “Next Knowledge,” because it’s cool to have an alliterative name that doesn’t look alliterative.  Don’t you agree, Tony the Pterodactyl?  Next Knowledge is the term I’m using to define the mental leap one’s mind takes to the next item in a logical sequence.  What the hell am I talking about?  I’ll try to illustrate via examples from two forms of media:
First, when an episode of The Simpsons ends, I know I’m going to see a couple-second thing for the production company called Gracie Films.  It starts with the silhouette of a kid going, “Shh,” then it zooms into the screen and says the company name.  With Next Knowledge, my mind is ready for the music from Fox that immediately follows.  It knows it’s going to be there right after the black screen that says, “In Association With.”  I haven’t watched The Simpsons for years and yet I can quite clearly hear both ditties in my head, spaced out correctly.  You may have found yourself saying, “You stinka!” along with David E. Kelley shows or, “That’s some bad hat, Harry” after the show “House.”  My earliest memory of this is from right after episodes of “Family Ties.”  Some of you may already be nodding in agreement.  “Sit Ubu sit, good dog.  Woof!” always immediately followed.  It was a nice capper to the show, and my mind automatically went there every time.
Second, and the way this is most common in my life, has to do with music.  One song ends, and I’m ready with the word, guitar riff, or drumbeat that starts the next one on that cd.  For the rest of my life, I will never hear the end of “Why Don’t We Do It in the Road” by the Beatles without the beginning of “I Will” immediately starting in my head.  The same can be said for countless songs – hundreds probably – which always makes it a little awkward when I hear the song on the radio or some other stand-alone situation.  If I’m singing along to Green Day’s “American Idiot” and not paying much attention, you better believe I’m gonna start nodding my head to the opening pounding notes of “Jesus of Suburbia,” whether it’s actually playing there or not.
I thought of this and decided to write about it because I found a small problem with how strong my Next Knowledge is in the music field.  I was listening to a playlist on iTunes at work, and I paused it right after a song ended so that I could go to the bathroom and not miss the next song that I really like.  About two minutes later, I walked back into the office and said hi to a co-worker before heading back to my desk.  During that time, my head had continued the playlist and I’d just “heard” that entire next song.  So when I sat down and hit the spacebar to restart playing the music, I didn’t feel like listening to that song anymore since it would essentially be like hitting repeat on something that just played.  My Next Knowledge made the real experience superfluous and therefore unnecessary.  
I can’t be alone in this, right?  How strong are your senses of Next Knowledge?  Do you feel a second of unsettledness when the song that should follow the one you just heard doesn’t come on next?  Let me know if this is fairly common or just another one of my Silly Psychoses.

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