January 1st, 2003


collapse, unload it, pop pop I must accumulate, unload it....

according to Rhiannon and this middle aged idiot boy John at work, I'm a total loser becuase I don't remember if I've ever heard the extended version of Tainted Love, where they go on to sing Baby Love.
"They like, play it on the radio ALL THE TIME.... I can't BELIEVE you've never HEARD IT."
"I don't listen to the radio"
"Why don't you listen to the radio? Everyone listens to the radio."
"Because the radio is nothing but top 40, trendy, overdone pablum that I don't feel like subjecting myself to. The most I hear of the radio is what I pick up in the early mornings before the flow team leaves and if I'm in the backroom near the player they have back there. And really... that's too much"
"I thought you were like... into music and stuff... and you don't even listen to the radio..."

When I just shrugged, they proceeded to talk about how great Madonna was in the 80s and how she's 'lost her edge'. Then about how cool Marilyn Manson is (rhiannon just claims to LOVE HIM... while at the same time loving Good Charlotte, talking up dudes about Blink 182 and sporting a Green Day AIM (and in the process they BOTH insisted at me that Mechanical Animals was a NIN album) and how great his remakes are. And then about how much ACDC rocks.

This is what passes as 'ecclectic' music taste for most people. And that's why I just say that I like "weird stuff."

While I sat in the equipment room today printing labels, Priess, the deep sexxaaaaaay voiced overnight manager guy, whistled "heart and soul."
later in the day I found myself singing "Real Love" ... the doughty version. Which is the same as the Mary J Blige version words wise, but the feel is totally different in the delivery.
Joe laughed at me.

I'm a little discombobulated at the moment. I feel like randomly spewing lyrics. I want to sing something. I *miss* singing. And I've actually got a halfway decent voice when I haven't already half shamed myself into badness.
I should just sing more.

(no subject)

It's unfortunate that I don't have Count Zero/Quarantine era Nikon Zeiss eye implants. That way I wouldn't have to just WISH I HAD A DAMNED CAMERA when I'm at work.
I could look, see that thing I'd love to photograph, trigger a little muscle switch and snap snap snap away.
Of course... in Quarantine the cords ran through his body and the main power unit was housed somewhwere in his guts. Which made it interesting when he decided to return it.
And it was really a camera unit in both cases.
But dammit.
That would still be great.

Cameras are really just the tap on the shoulder and the pointing finger. The "hey, check that out" for me. I just want someone else to see what I saw.
Tomorrow I'm taking the damned camera.
None of the shots will be there.

But at least I'll get to take a picture of the gruesome "don't put your hands in here" warning in spanish that's on the bailer.