Sunday, August 22, 2004

Song Cravings

Maybe it's a subtle form of OCD, but from time to time I get this INTENSE need to listen to particular songs or albums over and over and over and over and over and over... and sometimes I remember old songs or hear them and I MUST go out and buy them so that I can practice this obsessive behaviour with them. It's like the world is not going to be quite right until I hear the song. And hear it again. And again. And again. It's a hunger. A need. It's weird, I know. But it is there nonetheless. Always has been.

Right now, the need manifests itself for the song "Beautiful Night" by the Burden Brothers. I think it kind of just expresses my views on the Universe right now at this moment in time. It's a positive, yet not naive, song. Read the lyrics below or check out a sound snippet here:

Beautiful Night
by The Burden Brothers

It's a beautiful night for being lonely
A beautiful night for being afraid
So raise your hands, you one and only's
You one-of-a-kinds who feel this way

I don't want to talk, don't want to explain it
I don't want to fuck and I don't want to fight
It's only a feeling, it's fleet and fading
It's all over the world, and it's only tonight

Cause it's a beautiful night, beautiful night, yeah
Beautiful night, beautiful night to be here

It's a perfect time for being wasted
A perfect time to watch the stars
So throw back your head
Come on, embrace it
It's a beautiful night, wherever you are

It's a beautiful night
Beautiful night, yeah
Beautiful night
Beautiful night to be here

All good things will come to you
Maybe tonight, maybe tonight it's the truth
I don't know

All good things to those who dream
Maybe tonight, maybe tonight we'll find peace
God I hope so

So raise your hands, raise your hands...

All good friends, they stood by you
And one at a time, one at a time they fell down
They fall down

All your fears are coming true and
This is the time, this is the time of your life
That defines you

So raise your hands, raise your hands...

Under the stars I'm alone among strangers
Confused, connected, diffused and alive
Maybe the future will smile on us
Maybe the future is here tonight
Cause it's a beautiful night, beautiful night, yeah
Beautiful night, beautiful night to be here

Beautiful night (8x)

Friday, August 13, 2004

Show Me Your Hooters

Driving in traffic today, I got behind an 18-wheeler semi truck with a sign on the back that stated simply, in red, capital letters: SHOW ME YOUR HOOTERS. This poses a few queries in my mind, even if in no one else's: 1. Does that work? Are there women out there who'll strip off their tank tops and let boobies flap in the wind just free for the asking? 2. If one was going to entertain such a notion, how do you maintain control of your own vehicle whilst freeing said hooters? Philosophical questions such as these boggle the mind, and will likely puzzle scientists and theologians for millenia to come.

Wednesday, August 11, 2004

Perseidian Beauty

If you haven't yet, catch the Perseids, an annual meteor shower happening for the next couple of weeks and visible from almost anywhere in the U.S. Round about 20 minutes ago, I saw the biggest falling star I've EVER seen just sitting out back waiting for the pup to poo.... clear, distinct, lengthy for a meteor streak, gorgeous. The stuff from which wishes are made.

Thus, in an indirect way, a very earthbound experience led me to one of the more memorable stargazing experiences I have yet had. What a mingling of opposites.

So I charge you: go forth, see comet tail, and make wishes! :)

Sunday, August 08, 2004

Bada Bing

Yep, that's a picture of cherries. Something summery I've been driven to consume, of late. Take in its scarlet, juicy, lush, ripe goodness nestled right there in the glass bowl,
beautiful to almost all the senses we possess. Something clearly symbolic about it.
Forget apples. These may have been eaten in Eden.
Puts me in mind of that William Carlos Williams poem about
being sorry to have eaten all the plums. Oops, I've gone derivative. :)

Potato Chip Focus Group

About six days ago, I participated in a market research study on potato chips. Well, of COURSE for money. $65, to be exact.

On the way in, I and some of my fellow professional consumers became addled as to how to get into the building where the group was held, as after striding about the glass-walled canyon along the Tollway, we found 4 beautiful revolving doors and one side entrance, all locked.

"Try to hustle, they're starting," the cell-phoned lady said.

"But! but! Never mind," my mental antagonist railed. But hustle we all did, through the parking garage and up to the 8th floor of the glinting building to make our $32.50 per hour.

There were 18 participants, all with numbered nametags. "Stay in number order!" they insisted as we filed into the room, complete with TV/VCR, board meeting chart paper, 2-way mirrors, three-pronged receiving antenna setup on a nearby table, and keypads below our seats. I and my fellow latefolk comprised the back row of this quasi-random assemblage of educated, literate youngish people, all with cars and access to ways of making enough scratch to supply a night's drinking or three full gastanks or so.

By this time, the other 4 latefolk and I had bonded over being equally sweaty, breathless and in possession of a sense of humor (not to mention the fear of losing $65 of nearly workless cash), and we were all kind of sniggering at random things. I, in particular, have a problem with undue sniggering just at life in general, especially when it's inappropriate. And there was a silly little man running the show, who's life work was, among other things, the successful marketing of fried bits of sliced potato.

Now at the end, my feeling on the whole 2 hours of viewing and discussion of 22 snippets of possible future potato chip commercials was this: "Sweet. I'll mouth off my opinion without anyone even asking, and I just made $65 for basically having a 'Who Can Be Wittiest About How The Chips Fell Into The Bowl' contest." (Although, I did strive to bring a philosophical angle into the discussion by noticing in particular the role of Light used as a leitmotif throughout the presentation.)

However, there was one moment, right there at the beginning, where an unspoken terror crept into my mind: "Oh my God, what trusting sheep we are. This could be a terrorist plot. Or just plain criminal action. Or a secret machination of the CIA. We all walked in here, showed our IDs to prove who we were, and marched right into a room, with listening, observation and recording devices, under the control of a group of people none of us know personally, all for the promise of $65. Now here we sit, awaiting whatever images they want to show us, which could be ANYthing at all. And me without so much as even a weapon-like object. Well, I certainly hope that I'm just being paranoid."

Was I?

Friday, August 06, 2004

The Naming

Man, if The Naming wasn't the very essence of this endeavor...
For probably two hours, I obsessed and very pointedly overthought the title of this blog. If it wasn't for Overthunk coming along, I'd still be digging myself deeper into a chasmic hole of overanalysis and indecision.
However, Namings are very important. And I didn't want to count myself among Those Who Have Named Poorly. And in the end, It named Itself.
Overthunk: short, sledgehammer, and possibly ignorant.
Welcome. :)

Add to Technorati Favorites