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A mindset for your marmoset
Feb. 25th, 2005 09:26 amSo no to the barcodes, it makes you wonder what happened to the squirrels really? Where did they all go, and the wood, types of implements and other lost dreams in the backpin alley of my mind. Where do they all come from, where do they go?
Is there a waiting room just outside my head with a 'take a ticket' queue for random thoughts and ideas that shuffle and trade them like stocks in order to get into my head and explode into the world.
Timing is the key, if they play it right like now, bad phrasing, they can be unleashed and the rabbits in balloons flying over the gigantic mountains of southern France will call out to them "Hey, you down there, not so much honey on my toast."
But, it's Friday, in case you hadn't noticed. This means that life is rolling on apace getting faster all the time, not as the Beatles noted, getting better, if it was getting better all the time this would imply that 'Better' was in fact a scale that could be infinitely extended. Which I somewhat doubt.
The universe is, in probable likelihood, going to collapse in on itself in a crushing supercondensed mass of gigantic proportions and squish us all into nothing more than a few electron volts worth of spare charge dancing loops around a massive singularity.
Do you call that getting better? Hmmm? I think not Mr. Ringo, I think that being crushed with the weight of a billion stars is not above my rating of "a lazy Saturday morning in bed with a good book or a bad woman". I think therefore that your lyrics do not represent a realistic expectation for my life and the future it holds.
Maybe I should sue, but then given the other way that music lies to us I think it would be just one of a cascading domino effect of lawsuits that would erupt if I took music literally with all that it tried to teach me.
Or perhaps I should just listen to the Ruttles instead, "All you need is cash."
Is there a waiting room just outside my head with a 'take a ticket' queue for random thoughts and ideas that shuffle and trade them like stocks in order to get into my head and explode into the world.
Timing is the key, if they play it right like now, bad phrasing, they can be unleashed and the rabbits in balloons flying over the gigantic mountains of southern France will call out to them "Hey, you down there, not so much honey on my toast."
But, it's Friday, in case you hadn't noticed. This means that life is rolling on apace getting faster all the time, not as the Beatles noted, getting better, if it was getting better all the time this would imply that 'Better' was in fact a scale that could be infinitely extended. Which I somewhat doubt.
The universe is, in probable likelihood, going to collapse in on itself in a crushing supercondensed mass of gigantic proportions and squish us all into nothing more than a few electron volts worth of spare charge dancing loops around a massive singularity.
Do you call that getting better? Hmmm? I think not Mr. Ringo, I think that being crushed with the weight of a billion stars is not above my rating of "a lazy Saturday morning in bed with a good book or a bad woman". I think therefore that your lyrics do not represent a realistic expectation for my life and the future it holds.
Maybe I should sue, but then given the other way that music lies to us I think it would be just one of a cascading domino effect of lawsuits that would erupt if I took music literally with all that it tried to teach me.
Or perhaps I should just listen to the Ruttles instead, "All you need is cash."
