Since yesterday, there are a few notes of a song/tune going through my brain. I played them on a virtual piano keyboard for Tom–he has no idea. I sent the notes to Tim so he could play them on a virtual piano keyboard. He also can’t identify. I can’t remember a single lyric, just what I believe are the first few notes. I vaguely think the song starts out a little slow and soft, and then it moves into an almost Pearl Jam/Foo Fighters/Chris Cornell grittier sound, so maybe I heard it on an alternative rock station? Or some compilation I streamed via YouTube?
It.is.making.me.batty.
I’ve surrendered and turned on one of Houston’s alternative stations with a glimmer of optimism. The ads and traffic reports are growing old fast. I feel like a teenager again waiting for that ONE song to come on the radio.
I had a similar affliction for a few years on and off, mostly on. It was like a tension relaxer like the way I can’t help making sound effects and some bird whistles.
The song phrase turned out one day by chance at the iWash card-op laundry. The TV was on a music channel, and not only did it play that tune but it also gave the title and artist! I rushed over to name my companion/nemesis. It was the exercise montage for one of the Rocky movies.
The past 7 days, the ear worm has been Every Rose Has Its Thorn. I could have just flipped through my music library to find the artist, but instead I concentrated on the singing for clues. I guessed Guns ‘n’ Roses; it turned out to be Poison.
Oh, man, I could have helped you out with naming Poison–I love the ’80s hair bands. I once had a great dream about Bret Michaels from Poison–not romantic in any way, in fact, we were siblings in a previous life in the dream (time travel plot!), and he gave me a ring handed down in our family to “keep me safe” and so we could always find each other. A few years later, I was working with a young woman named Beth. She came to work and showed us a ring she’d been given for her birthday. It was the ring from my dream. This has happened to me several times with objects and places, and as soon as I see them, I can recall the dream they were in. Maybe we DO time travel while we sleep, huh? That dream/ring is why I sketched Bret Michaels in ’91.
My bro from another time.
That’s awesome.
Every Rose Has Its Thorn started to randomly play at a four way stop sign. I was going one way, ex friend’s car was going the crossway. Even though the song was a week long ear worm, that capriciously ironic encounter wasn’t. I would have liked ex friend to be a real friend, but no.
I like your past life better.
Real life… so uncooperative sometimes. 🙄