Delta, side-eyeing me and speaking for the pack: “We will not be moving from the heater or taking questions at this time.” I think Delta has recently been reading over my shoulder while I was writing.
Below is my writing playlist for the day, and Steely Dan had me so mellow that I might as well have been stoned. Gwen Stefani got me back to the manuscript! The Steely Dan shown here is a collection, but I’m very sure that a million years later, if someone brought in the albums Can’t Buy A Thrill or Aja, I’d be able to sing along, every word to every song. Music memory’s a funny thing.
Smashing Pumpkins, 2-CD set, Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness; Steely Dan, The Definitive Collection; Gwen Stefani, Love, Angel, Music, Baby.
So much good music, but school loyalty mandates that I link to the tune I’ve chosen. Roll Tide, and we’ll miss you, Coach Saban. I was there for some of the Bear Bryant years, and you, too, became a coaching legend. Tip of the houndstooth hat to you.
I sometimes think music memory is maliciously plagued by an infestation of jumbled up ear worms. Bits of songs merge into others, and, before I realize what’s happening, I’m singing a mixed up chorus that I’m desperately trying to remember the rest of something else, or worse, the name of. I did get some inspiration from these mixed up bits of ear wormed songs, and so I made some remixed CDs, that ultimately became fun but mainly working out. It was a sampler hobby that started out from a double deck cassette unit and moved into the computerized music editors. I’ve been contemplating returning to doing so, but, like writing, it’s naming what to say and staying focused on that point.
Hey, Mr. DJ, put a record on…
A lot of records. And see what happens.