C'mon Over, Do The Twist

Sweet mother of Jehosephat, this day…

I feel like I’m having an aneurism. I’ve never actually had an aneurism, but I sort of feel like this cinching belt in my neck, cruise missile razor blade tearing up my brain tissue must be reminiscent of what it might feel like to have an aneurism.

All of which has nothing to do with the awesome Nirvana song “Aneurism”.

I’m not going to be terribly surprised if I fall down into a convulsing, self-defecating mess with blood pouring with some authority out of my eyes. I also wouldn’t be surprised if I started speaking a language lost to the ages, lost to God, and barely heard by the few shocked coworkers who might notice my convulsive, eye bleeding fall.

I might not even be surprised to find my head splitting open with a tremendous cracking sound and a bloody Slinky bursting forth as if reenacting the birth of Athena from the head of Zeus, or the chestburster scene in ALIEN if you’re not all hot on Greek mythology. I imagine this Slinky doing its Slinky walk down the cubicle aisle, independent of gravity or floor grade. I imagine it somehow gaining a voice and singing the Slinky song with a sing-songy, faux child voice:

“What walks down stairs, alone or in pairs, and makes a slinkity sound?
A spring, a spring, a marvelous thing…”

At which point I hope to have the energy to mutter, the wherewithal to stop speaking in this forgotten tongue, and say, “you ain’t that marvelous.”

When this day began I was so excited about seeing Built to Spill tonight that I shot 4 ½ loads in my pants. Right now I’m generally numb to everything.


Rocktober song of the day: “Buick Mackane” by T. Rex.