Muzak and pipe dreams

Friday morning, something odd happened (of course this stuff only happens to me, right?); as I was driving to school, I was playing with my car’s radio – which I do sometimes just ‘cos I am weird like that. Well, I landed on 88.1, and there is Robin Williams and his liberal ‘fuck, fuck, shit, fuck, fuck’ comedy shtick. I stayed on it, and it continued for some time…and then at a traffic light, an announcer came on and declared that I am listening to XM channel 115. And then the light changed, and the station fuzzled out.

Huh?

So I am crossing the intersection with static (over a teensy smattering of what sounds like dialogue, and is probably a two-off religious station), and as I hit the end of the intersection all of a sudden I am listening to some screaming, blaring metal music (they all sound the same to me, so I don’t know who)…clear as a bell. And then it is gone. More static…within *feet* of where I was picking up clear-as-a-bell metal music, which is only a couple hundred feet from where I was picking up clear-as-a-bell XM channel one-fuckety-fucking-fifteen. And I am trying to think if what just happened is even physically *possible* with radio…and I don’t think so. Random satellite beamings? Ummm…no; it does not work that way, either. I am having a hard time coming up with an answer here. So driving the rest of the way, I pick up nothing. In the parking garage, I start to pick up the staticky ebb-and-flow of some kind of rock music – clearer one moment than the other – and shut off my car.

In seminar, I spend the entire time searching to figure out what in the crap just happened. I have to resort to Google, and after tons of searches, I find this: Get Ready for Terrestrial Eavesdropping.

Oh, that is kinda cool. I mean, I think satellite radio is totally unnecessary (you’ll see me get satellite radio right after I start making Squooshable wear sweaters), but I think the *idea* of swiping signal is very neat. And yes – it does work on home systems, too. As I drive home, turning down my street, I am picking up signals the whole way; apparently I am the only home without fricking XM. Jeez. Sheep.

Butsoanyway.

Friday I was trying to distract myself from all my uber-disturbing thoughts; I have (I almost dread to report this) officially quit smoking. As in forever. As in ‘shan’t pick up the habit again, even if I am under amounts of stress which are unbearable for other humans’. Seriously. I started again finishing my last Magnificent Octopus, and since then have on-again, off-again continued. Sigh.

And I don’t dislike smoking; it is actually highly pleasurable, but then I have The Oral Fixation From Hell, and am therefore an easy sell. I like smoking; it does not bother me, and I have no need to attempt to exert my superiority (or take advantage of others’ kindness) and tell anyone to stub it out (and will no longer have to pick fights by recommending genetic counselling to any drama queen who cannot bear the cigarette smoke of passers-by, and openly patting myself on the back for my own superior genetics). Smoke away, smokers; I think you are Just Swell – Ancodia just will not be joining you. I have good, strong willpower without the need to demonise anyone like that.

It’s the superior mentation that comes with the genetics. :-D

I am *kidding*, for st. god’s sake. And no, I never smoked around my cats – not in the home at all. Someone always emails me to ask, and the answer is no – Romeo has asthma and is in kidney failure, and cannot have smoke around him for *real*, unlike some whiny human drama-queens that just like to control others and do so by playing sick. Plus, I was not a hardcore smoker – I also think it is rude to be so enamoured of le cig that one has to smoke where one shouldn’t. Everyone should just try to be civil, damn it.

Butsoanyway, my point is that I am taking Chantix so that I do not have to wade through that nagging visceral craving that keeps saying, ‘just…one!’. It has been wonderful – no nagging anything. And I figure that within twelve weeks, I will have more than enough upheaval to test my resolve, so stalking out to gas myself will be once again removed from my repertoire of behaviours. Yay.

But one effect of Chantix that is horribly under-stated (besides the fact that colours look brighter/different, though I may be one of the few to notice ‘cos I see different colours out of each eye, and always have) is these dreams! They are very…I don’t know; I usually do not remember most of my dreams, but I am having dreams I remember now every night. And my dreams have always been weird, so I cannot say that they have necessarily gotten weirder, but they seem to be more real. Okay, now let us bring recall that, since having re-started The Pill, I am 0.001 ms away from getting aroused over something, and it is easy to see how at the present time most of my dreams are revolving around sex in some way.

And I have been told that I am moving and talking in my sleep, an idea so gruesome I do not care to even consider it further. Bwaah! The whole world should definitely *not* be privy to some of these!

Sheesh…

But I think that it is worth it…in the long run, I mean. Sigh. Tomorrow I have an early-morning meeting, and then I go get ultrasounded again to check on Millicent the Ovary’s cyst. This should be fun.

Why shouldn't I be permanently freaked-out?

Well, I mean, c'mon...

I deal with Really Stupid Questions whenever I am in Eviljob--questions which, if I misinterpret them, could have severe repercussions. Job 2 I sit alone in a dark, locked basement (I haven't gotten to see my office in *weeks*), listening to 'BZZT! BZZT! WARNING! BZZT! BZZT! WARNING! BZZT! BZZT!...' coming out of headsets at barely-audible levels (hence my ability to hear ice cream vans eight hundred miles away), while a battery of Dell XPSs (or whatever they are) glow Demonic Red in the dark. And then I step out into the world to take a break, and meteorologically, it's like The Day After Tomorrow out there.

And I keep forgetting to go to class until about ten minutes before class starts.

Sigh.

Thanks for the good wishes and all. :-*

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What happens to my brain when I focus on one thing for too long...

I was creeped out enough by the previous episode that I phoned Barbara, my next-door neighbour (albeit 'next door' by a fair bit of distance) to ask if she'd heard Music Box Dancer, also.

Well, I'm not going to phone the Colonel on the other side of me; he's sort-of (good) humourless at times.

That was an ice cream joke. Yes, it was so a good one.

Butsoanyway.

Babs told me that she had not heard it, but that she thought it probably *was* an ice cream van. So in the spirit of research, I found a few things (1) Music Box Dancer (check out the last paragraph; I did not know that!); (2) This; and (3) This. Maybe the stuff I am working on is really boring, and there's a contrast effect going on, but I am finding this really interesting.

I think I have a new obscure interest that few find interesting in any way, shape, or form. Cool!

And I guess that it was an ice cream van, despite the peculiarity of the day, time, season, and so forth. It figures that my neighbourhood would have The Most Confused Ice Cream Van Driver of All Time.

**UPDATE**

Okay...I am thisclose to developing a freaky fetish ('cos we all know that many Freaky Fetishes are borne out of a paradoxical reaction to something which is off-putting, where an affinity is developed in a self-preservational sort of way, kind of like desensitisation through repeated exposure, and if we did not know that, well...now we do). I downloaded Lips Stained Blue (Uhhh…yeah, I *am* always gonna pick the goth-sounding one first; get used to it), and Ghetto Ice Cream Truck Song. Then I got up to get a drink, and forgot about the downloads.

LSB finished first when I was in the kitchen, and when it started playing, I nearly *died*. I spun around, dumping my soda on the counter, ready to kick some serious ice cream van ass. I mean, inside of one millisecond I was all jazzed up to administer a severe motherfucking beating to whatever was making that sound.

Yes, this is why ‘Codia doesn’t go into haunted houses at Halloween: people who jump out at her get hit. Hard. People who sneak up behind her get hit. Hard. Do not startle the ‘Codia; it reacts poorly, even to the point where it will attempt to kick the ass of an ice cream van.

Butsoanyway.

It took me a second to realise what it was; after I got over the adrenaline rush-induced swoon, I damn near wet myself laughing. I am *such* a doof! What flavour of imbecile cannot hold what they are downloading in their head for two minutes?

Uhhh, that would be *me*.

Weebie (who always follows me into the kitchen in the hopes of a handout) just looked at me as if she were saying, ‘I’m really sorry that you have so many mental problems. How about some tuna?’

And I now think ice cream van songs are cool as hell. Out of context, they sound freaky and strange.

Okay—now I *REALLY* have to quit screwing around and get back to work.

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Okay, now I am creeped out...

It is Sunday afternoon, and the day is winding down. My neighbourhood is quiet, except for a basketball game being played in a neighbour's driveway (I am assuming it is basketball from the thump-thump-thump I hear with a basketball-like frequency; it could be a very thorough person bludgeoning another to death, but my plan is to tell the police I thought it was a basketball game). I hear a plane flying above, I hear my ceiling fan letting off its usual tick-tick-tick as it runs, I hear the wind rushing through the trees and pummelling my windows. I hear leaves being blown around, and every once in a while, a branch will bump something. I hear my computer making its usual whirs and chirps, though I have the volume down so that I can concentrate. I occasionally hear kitty feet padding hither and thither, and every so often I hear Squoosh (the noisiest member of our household) let out a 'MRRP!' or 'BRRP!'. I hear my refrigerator kick on every so often...

And I hear, just above an audible level, what sounds like a crappy MIDI cell phone ring tone of Music Box Dancer. And it has played through the *whole* song twice (ruling out the possibility of it being a cell phone or an ice cream van or something, not that there *are* ice cream vans that come by here at this time of day on a Sunday in this weather at this time of year, but I recognise that is one explanation...up to the point where it went through the whole song; not that I have taken copious notes, but I think ice cream vans usually loop just a little bit, at least all the ice cream vans I have heard).

Ok, wait--it gets weirder.

On the third pass through of Music Box Dancer, the tones (still barely audible--it took me a bit to recall the name of the song) got stuck about midway through, and repeated the same tone for about half a minute, and then continued on with the rest of the song. Then it went away -- I no longer hear it. The entire time, it was at the same volume level (which also kind of rules out a moving vehicle). With the exception of getting 'stuck', it played through the entire song three times, with a pause in-between each. I possess nothing which plays a spookycrappy, barely-audible MIDI of Music Box Dancer, even if I forgot to turn it off. Or whatever.

I think that I have been working too long, and I am hallucinating. Or maybe I have a brain cloud.

Sigh.

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