In This Post, I Try to Guess What Is Playing on My IPOD

I've been downloading so much music and cramming it onto my IPOD (the 160 gig variety) that now when I play it on shuffle I often have to see what the hell it is I am listening to.  Or when I attach it to my girlfriend's sound system and click shuffle, I have to repeatedly get up out of my seat, cross the room, and once again find out what the hell it is I am listening to, until curiosity trumps laziness, which hasn't happened yet.  I wish it would.

Right now, I will try to guess ten songs on shuffle.

Song 1:

My Guess:  Something by Portishead from the album with "Sour Times" album.  Mellow, cool, and creepy as a rubber fist.

Result:  Ding ding ding!  One for one.  "Strangers" from Dummy.

Song 2

My Guess:  Nick Cave song from Dig, Lazarus, Dig, an album I've only listened to once (downloaded it before the summer).  His distinctive voice gives it away.  The chorus--"We're gonna have a real good time!"--is upbeat but also seems dark, like it could be playing during one of the murder scenes in Natural Born Killers.  It's happy and upbeat, but it's happy and upbeat filtered through the fucking insanity of Nick Cave, and so necessarily it is happy and upbeat and unnecessarily goofy and randomly violent.

Result:  Winner.  Two for two.  "Today's Lesson" is the name of the track.  It would fit well in a mix tape entitled "The Dance Mix of Hate."  Killing with a grin, service with a smile.

Song 3

My Guess:  Barry White.  That is all I know.  Lots of strings.  He's really belting it out there.  Based on the chorus, I'd guess the title is "I'm Qualified to Satisfy You."

Result:  Boom, bitches.  Perfect so far.

Song 4

My Guess:  Robyn.  I downloaded a couple albums by this chick in April or May.  I think I've listened to a half-dozen of her songs, but her high-pitched delivery and heavy pop vibe are unmistakable in my collection. I think this artist is a misfire.  I mean, I don't think I'll ever say, "I didn't really like Robyn at first, but after playing her shit every single day for a month straight, I now see the light."  But the song isn't really a crime against humanity, which is the criterion that would lead me to delete her album from my collection.

Result:  Robyn, "Dancehall Queen."  Four for four.

Song 5

My Guess:  Hmm, tough one.  Female singer.  And I recognize her voice.  Who is she?  Ah, I think I know.  I'm going to guess Fever Ray, who is the woman from . . . and now I can't remember the band she's part of. They made an excellent album about 7 years back.  [Edit: the chick from Fever Ray is a member of the band called The Knife, whose album Silent Shout fucking rules.]

Result:  Wrong.  It's Arcade Fire from the Suburbs album, which I've listened to maybe once.  Funny, my first thought when the song came on was that it was an Arcade Fire album, but then I owned myself by thinking too much.

Song 6

My Guess:  Easy one.  Traffic, "John Barleycorn Must Die."  Does owning Traffic albums make me lame?  I suppose it does.

Result:  Correct.  Five for six.  Based on past performance, I would've guessed I'd be batting .500 by now.

Song 7

My Guess:  Starts with a piano playing a few notes repeatedly.  Then the violin playing the same melody over and over.  More strings.  The sound is growing, which strikes me as the modus operandi of Godspeed You Black Emperor!  If I'm right, I can expect to relax for a while, because this song should last about 25 minutes.

Result:  Wrong.  The band is A Silver Mount Zion.  The song is "Stumble Then Rise on Some Awkward Morning."  I feel ripped off with this one, because some of the members of A Silver Mount Zion are also members of Godspeed, but wrong is wrong.  Five for seven.

Song 8

My Guess:  Another instrumental tune with lots of strings.  Drawing a big blank so far.  Man, I can't think of a single band that this song sounds like.

Result:  Fuck.  I got owned by Brian Eno.  "Variation on the Canon in D Major: (ii) French Catalogs" from the album Discrete Music, which I have not yet listened to.  I downloaded this one some time over the last two weeks.  Five for eight.  I should make a rule for this: If the song is instrumental, and if I have no clue who the artist is, I should guess Brian Eno.

Song 9

My Guess:  This sounds like music for a vampire movie.  The sun has just set.  Looping music, drum machine, creepy synthesizers.  My best two guesses are either John Maus or else Matthew Dear.  I'm going to guess John Maus.  I bet I'm way off.  These instrumental songs are brutal.  In fact, I'm not even sure whether Maus or Dear even make instrumental songs.

Result:  Sigh.  I want to facepunch myself.  Amon Tobin, "Deo," from Supermodified.  I should definitely have known this one.  Five for nine.  Maybe I'll bat .500 after all.  Oh, and the drum machine just kicked into high gear.  I should've waited until the song ended to make my guess, because his drum sound would've given Tobin away.

Song 10

My Guess:  Easy one.  A friend of mine from college absolutely loved Kate Bush and played her albums endlessly.  Almost without variation.  Anyhoo, this one is "Running Up That Hill" from the Hounds of Love album.

Result: Yup.


So I got 60 percent.  Or to put it another way, if this had just been my first quiz, I would currently be getting a D in my own music.

Hospital Visit

I have asthma.  It isn't a big deal, except when I visit my parents or my sister, who both have cats, or else when I smoke, which I do most of the time--and so I guess it is sort of a big deal.  In any case, I need to have an inhaler near me all of the time.  Hospitals, as so happens, never give prescriptions for two inhalers, however.  And so by necessity there will be times when I am "out of ammo"--where my inhaler will be out of gas . . . or whatever magic mist happens to be inside of it.

Today was one of those days.  Actually, the inhaler went dry last night.  I didn't give it much thought until I felt some tightness in my chest last night.  After a quick search online, I found out that the best alternatives for asthmatics without inhalers is to either drink coffee or Coke or turn on a hot shower and inhale the steam.

It was late, so caffeine was out of the question.  And we live in a desert, so we never have the hot water heater on.  So I went with Option #3: Breathing in and out of my mouth slowly until the attack passes.

I did, and it did.

Today at the mall a new, minor asthma attack hit me.  Just some tightness in the chest, enough to notice and worry about.  I told my girlfriend about it and we headed straight for the hospital.

We got there, and I went straight to the registration desk and said, "I am having trouble breathing."  Which was true.

She quickly said, "Go straight to emergency."  No forms, nothing.  I had never had such a reaction.  Cool, I thought.

At emergency, I used the magic--and true--words: "I am having trouble breathing."

They said, "Come."  They directed me in into the back room, where all the shit goes down.  Two nurses surrounded me.  One put a clamp on my finger and read a computer screen.  The other asked me questions that I don't remember.

Finally, the nurse who had clamped me said, "You are okay.  Your oxygen is at 98 percent."

I had no clue what he meant, but 98 percent for oxygen sounded like I was in A-plus territory.

Almost immediately, they started treating me differently.  They became more relaxed.  I was no longer an emergency.  But they said, "Doctor soon," which sounded good.  Nobody likes to hang out in hospitals.

The nurses turned out to be right.  They showed me in to see a doctor within 2 minutes.

Awesome service!  There's nothing like appearing to be very sick at a hospital.

I thought about it a bit.  I hadn't lied.  They had simply taken the darkest view.  The words "I am having trouble breathing" could mean (a) I have some tightness in my chest and would like a new inhaler or (b) I'm fucking dying, man!

They acted as if I had said, "I'm fucking dying, man!"

So they bring me in to the doctor.  She checks me with a stethoscope and informs me that I am "fine."

Then she seems to relax.

Now, I begin to think that everyone is pegging me as a liar--just some dude who wanted to bypass the lines in order to get a new inhaler ASAP.  Except I hadn't lied; they had simply taken the darkest view.

So as I sat in a chair across from the now-relaxed doctor, a thought struck me.  Why not give them the darkest view?

Why not throw myself onto the floor and start flopping like a fish, all the while holding my breath so that my face would turn red or--hopefully--blue?

That would really fuck their shit up.  Suddenly false-alarm Yakshi is the real deal.

The doctor would rush to the door and call for the nurses--the nurses who had relaxed earlier when they assumed I was full of shit--and all of them would crowd into the room and do their best to resuscitate me.  And I would let them pull me back to life and shake all of their hands and hurry home with my new inhaler.

I wish I had that story for you.  Instead, I waited for the doctor to fill out my prescription, headed to the pharmacy, picked up my puffer, and headed home.

I hope your day was better than mine.

Why Romney Can't Win

Woke up to see my girlfriend punching the air.  She said, "I'm just going to be airpunching Romney for a little while.  Don't mind me."  Soon after, she was kicking backwards saying, "Donkey kicks.  Donkey kicks."

Romney is an asshole --> Women hate Romney --> Romney can't win.  

White

I was taking a walk tonight through Al Ain, one of the bigger cities in the United Arab Emirates, and something struck me.  I had noticed it before, but now I really started to pay attention.  Like a kid, I started to count cars.

Well, the color of cars.

I was really focusing on one color: white.  White cars.  White cars seemed to be everywhere.

So I was on my walk, with nothing else to do except listen to music and . . . count cars.

So I did that for a while, and here are my results.

Total: 55 cars

White cars: 28 (!!!)

Non-white cars: 25

Taxis: 2 (always silver)

More than half are white?

I know I live in the desert, but does the color white really reflect the glaring sun that much?

Such a boring place.

I Would Love to Be Named Schlomo

It would be so nice.

Friends could say, "Hey, Schlomo, pass me another beer."

And I would say, "One?"

And he would answer, "Yes, Schlomo, one."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, who?"

"Yeah, Schlomo."

"Okay."

And then I would pass him a beer.

And that's how it would go throughout his life.  Because I would control the beer.

My Platform

It is election season in the United States, a time when everyone worries that the country will descend into fascism (again).

It got me thinking.  Should I run for office?  If so, what would be my platform?

A simple three-pronged attack should suffice.

1.  Every household gets to choose to receive one of the following each week:

• Roasted chicken
• Six pick of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer

It will be quite simple.  On Wednesday, you will receive a Selection Card from the U.S. Government.  The selection card will have your address stamped on it.  Below your address, you will find the instructions.

CHOOSE ONE.

Below the instructions, you will see the following:

______ Chicken

______ Beer

If you are conservative and you do not want the interference of the federal government, choose nothing.

If you are conservative and you do not want the interference of the federal government, then make a selection, you fucking hypocrite.

So generous, right?  How will we pay for it?  

Easy.

2.  Eliminate the military.  

Congrats, right wing!  You got your wish.  Smaller federal government.

This platform position makes abundant sense, considering the fact that the United States is geographically isolated and relatively safe from a ground invasion from evil Canada and empire-chasing Mexico.

3.  Give jobs to the unemployed former members of the military in the chicken and beer industries.

And that, Solid Citizen, is how I will snatch up a cushy job in a domed building somewhere.

Writing

As you may have read in an earlier post, I wanted to pursue several goals in September.  Dropped that notion for some good reasons, but I'll most likely pursue the same goals--or something similar--for October.

What I want the very most right now is to start writing fiction every day.  I don't have a lot going on.  I am teaching the same subject to four different classes this semester, an ideal setup.  And because I've taught the course a few semesters in a row, I won't have to do any preparation.

So what gives?  

It's just so hard to get started.  I have to force myself to sit down, stare at my screen, and type anything that comes into my head . . . until I find an idea worth chasing.

In other news, Mitt Romney and his Republican army look like a phalanx of fucktards.  

That party has put forth a really weak effort this time around. 

Obama should scoop.  Unless he starts calling us all a bunch of honkeys at the Democratic National Convention.

And speaking of the DNC, at least one political commentator--Republican, by the way--said that Bill Clinton's awesome speech sealed the deal for Obama.  I also read a comment that opined that Clinton was the "coolest" president in U.S. history.

Looking good for the donkeys this week.