This morning, Laurie Anderson wormed herself into my head:
I don't know about your brain, but mine is really bossy.
I come home from a day on the golf course
and I find all these messages scribbled on wrinkled up scraps of paper.*
I don't play golf, but my head is full of wrinkled up scraps of paper. Full, I tell you.
What's your earworm today?
*from Laurie Anderson's song Baby Doll
A sixth of the way through the year? Dumbfounded, I am.
ReplyDeleteNo earworms, but plenty of lists.
Snow day. Little voices, both INside & OUTside my head.
ReplyDeleteif only my brain could read what it wrote
ReplyDeleteUnfortunately, I seem to have a Dora song stuck in my head. And lots of lists, of course.
ReplyDeleteIt dawns on me that I have been list free for days. It must be a survival mechanism, as I've been a bit sick and the lists would only push me over the edge.
ReplyDeleteI was a bit shocked about this March business. Lots of birthdays, including my daughter's. Oh, there actually is a list - of her invitees. But no list of foods or activities or to do's before the party. Soon.
I've been trying to teach myself piano & today's song was "Brown Girl in the Ring," which is fun because I can so easily make up new lyrics to sing all day long. Doesn't take much to keep me amused.
The 100th Psalm. Have NO idea why.
ReplyDeleteRick Astley's - Never Gonna Give You Up
ReplyDeleteNever gonna give you up, never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
My kids were talking about getting "rick rolled" and so I HAD to ask, what does that mean?
The days crawl past, sluggish and slow, struggling to make it from dawn to dusk, flies in amber fighting their fate, but the weeks, the months, and the years, those collections of amber-clad moments? They are lightning swift, flashing past almost before we can grasp their significance, savor their white-hot burst of flavor, store them in our cache of things to recall when we ourselves have slowed to a crawl, matching the days moment for moment at last.
ReplyDeleteShade and Sweetwater,
K (who has a crunkled up brain that is, itself, much like a scrap of paper, all notes and strikes and thoughts overwritten by other thoughts, almost unreadable any more. Sigh.)
the beat to a Rhianna song which of course I do not know the words to which is even more annoying
ReplyDeleteLove you even more for knowing you get Laurie Anderson on the brain. Sometimes when we are out as the sun is setting, Chris and I say to one another "the sun's going down" "like a big bald head".
ReplyDeleteNot an earworm yet, but I just got a Justin Townes Earle cd that I am digging.
No music--but ideas for a lesson plan I keep rewriting in my head.
ReplyDeleteMuteMath "You Are Mine"
ReplyDeleteI can barely move for the piles of paper scraps.
ReplyDeleteAnd now that you ask me what song is in my head, I can't tell you. Though there is always at least one. Sometimes making a medley.
It's a wonder I can ever produce a coherent sentence with all the clutter in my head.
The theme song to Frazier. Don't ask.
ReplyDeleteI had Sharkey's Day stuck in my head all day yesterday. Is March the season of Laurie Anderson?
ReplyDeleteLaundry piled up. A house to clean. A contract to read, understand and sign. Clients to appease. Children to cuddle. A husband who needs attention. Almost no time to write down the thoughts flowing through my head.
ReplyDeleteThat is March 6th for me.
Gotta love Laurie Anderson!
ReplyDeleteExcept I keep thinking of the one where the airplane pilot anounces that they're crashing and say, "Pilot says, put your hands on your head. Pilot says, put your hands one your hips. Put your hands on your legs. Hehehehe."
It's so fabulously macabre.
Well, now MY earworm is Babydoll, also. Thanks SO much!! ; )
ReplyDeleteI know the earworm cure...my 4th grade students taught me.
ReplyDeleteWanna know?
I know the earworm cure...my 4th grade students taught me.
ReplyDeleteWanna know?
I don't have an ear worm today but the other day--likely the day you wrote this--it was Suzanne Vega's Small Blue Thing. It's not often an ear worm makes me happy and that one did.
ReplyDeleteJosh Pyke's "Vibrations in Air"
ReplyDeleteWhat I fear
is that all the things I hold dear never become more than vibrations in air