ME-POD

I constantly have an Internal Soundtrack. Not just some song I’m casually humming but a song highlighting the action, commenting on my day to day life, somehow connecting it all so it might make some sense. Frankly, I don’t know which came first, the chicken or the egg, the song or the Soundtrack. Often the song guides me to react differently to events or engage in conversation with a certain underlying flavor. Yesterday was a song called “Happiness” from the new Macy Gray CD. Happiness for a day or two, blah blah blah blah, how bout you? I don’t always remember the exact words but given my imaginative bent, I’m seldom at a loss for filler.

When I take Polly for a walk, she ambles along to the beat, her head nodding determinedly, her tail wagging back and forth like a metronome to the rhythm. When we’re at the Dog Park, the dogs all gambol and wiggle to the loopy chorus, the gophers occasionally sticking their small heads from the safety of their holes to join in: Hap-pi-ness!

Sometimes I assume other people are like me and are always hearing their own Soundtrack as well. I’ve asked “What’s on your Internal Soundtrack right now?” and if they don’t have one, I’m a little surprised and frankly feel a little sorry for them.

Years ago I was sitting on the exam table at a doctors and I asked him why things have a bluish tint from one eye and a pinkish tint from another. “What do you mean?", he asked. Well when I close one eye, things look cooler, softer. When I close the other everything has a pinkish hue as if there might be a sunset reflecting from a nearby window. “Not everyone has that”, he tersely replied.

Oh. Really?

I figured this could be the Superpower I’ve always been confident I possess but had yet to discover. Not quite as showy as levitation or flicking the light switch on and off with my mind (my two prior candidates) but probably useful somehow. Perhaps I’d go to a 3-D movie and they’d run out of glasses. No problemo, 3-D Man can handle it. On the other hand, what if it just meant I was colorblind? I’d been to Art School, worked in design and suddenly discover all the subtle shadings on which I’d prided myself were just Garish. What’s worse, the world seemed to have silently agreed to humor me, nodding enthusiastically before turning and collectively rolling their eyes at my clueless sense of color. Years later I still have this Special Power and thus far it’s main function has been to entertain me when I’m waiting for an appointment and facing a blank wall.

My Internal Soundtrack might also be some idiosyncrasy only I can fathom. Salesclerks are handing me Iced Lattes unaware we’re both in the midst of a Tears For Fears anthem underlining some ironic point about the passing of time and my recollection of past events. Even if there were some way to project the soundtrack for others to hear, I’d just be one step away from a walking mall, subconsciously feeding them Music to Browse Hugh By.

Occasionally a song will intrude itself, perhaps via a commercial or movie or even music blasting from a passing car. One such recent terrorist was “Sugar Sugar” by The Archies. I don’t know where it came from but it was determined to set up camp and stay awhile. At first it seemed harmless enough but after the first hour the bouncy beat grew evil. BA-DA-BA-DA-BUMBUM - an ingratiating, endless cha-cha through the mines of Hell. The word “sugar” begins dripping with sarcasm and irony. Awwww, honey, honey is that horrible sound your car makes when it won’t start. You are my Candy Girl. You’re my Robot, a thing, a girl made of candy. And you’ve got me wanting you in that “What’s your favorite scary movie?” kind of way. Bwah-ha-ha!! Surely this song is intended to control your mind and force you to march numbly with thousands of other minions, carrying candy canes piece by piece from one topless mountain to another.

Drastic times call for drastic measures. The revolution must be quashed quickly. For songs of this ilk, Patti Smith usually does the trick. Patti’s songs are angry mobs wielding clubs, kicking cheap sentiment in the shins... FUCK THIS CANDY SHIT! LET’S ROCK!

So I’m off. Polly and I get in our car and roll down the windows, turn it up, cruise the strip, her flopping ears saying “Don’t fuck with us.” We’re Bad. Right now, even if you don’t hear it, Patti is taking us to a better movie where we kick ass and the world and the Soundtrack once again is in the palm of our hands and paws where we both know it belongs.

1:33:27 PM    sro home /