Sometimes when your inner monologue suddenly bursts forth into the land of the living, it can digress very quickly into something you wish would just disappear. Or, if you're like me, you blog about it. Witness Exhibits A through Z, a one-sided conversation that took place on iChat this morning wherein the recipient of my scattered musings was away from the computer just long enough for this to take a slight turn. The best part, of course, is that given the constraints and unique protocols for using a chat program like iChat, when the conversation is copied and pasted in the manner it was recorded (and the Enter button depressed mid-thought), it plays like a sort of postmodern beat poem. A poem read through the helpful equalizer of Autotune. And set to a beat. A thundering beatific Autotune paean to power ballads.
Wow, I'm doing it again.
LD: So I'm listening to this song,
and I'm like
this song is terrible. and amazing.
and I almost don't trust my instincts.
it's like a journey-esque power ballad
[I wait for a moment to see if J will respond. No response. I forge ever onward with my brilliant analysis.]
so cheesy but like
you just want to run around your room pumping your fists in the air
with a wind machine, of course
but then I'm like....maybe it's just BAD.
or maybe it's just....good....
[Again I pause in anticipation, restart the song, and hope J will return to me in the meantime. No response. Therefore, the only solution is to rocket into a new orbit of Stupid Musings.]
it's got the big block chord chorus
and the tinny harmonies
it's like fully Jack FM
oh my word when did this album even come out
but maybe it's not ENOUGH classic rock and too MUCH fray or snow patrol
I've lost my ability to discern
and my inner monologue has no filter
WHAT'S HAPPENING IN THIS HOUSE, LELAND!
[Twin Peaks reference, of course.]
oh I think the album's not even out yet. I got it from James. no wonder.
I'm home alone and you just DON'T KNOW SOMETIMES.
like even now....I'm sort of just talking to myself.
put the power ballad DOWN, Dailey.
just walk away.
okay so it's clear to me now:
upon the first listen, my heart resonated with the distinct Journey-esque undertones,
the synthy proclaimations
but as I listened more, I realized that the overtones were more the reverent bleeding heart elliptical guitar swivel-shuffle of a Snow Patrol song, or late-model Coldplay
ergo, DO. NOT. WANT.
whew, that was a close one.
[At this moment, J finally returns to the chat, but the damage has been done. Verbal Vom is splattered all over her screen and only the helpful scrubbing bubbles of Lysol can clean up this mess.]
End (pathetic) scene. (And no, I'm not divulging the song I was listening to, though I'd certainly buy you a beer if you could guess. But you won't guess.)