Temporal anomaly; Thom; Neil and Chris

Another return from the time warp.

Sunday of last week, (06/11), I felt tired and grumpy. That evening, I felt even worse, and I began to realize I had a tummy bug. Normally, in such cases, I would have called it sick on Monday morning, but someone was coming in to start on a special project, so I had to be there at least for a short period. My intent was to get things started, then slither away to the doctor. As fate would have it, the consultant was two hours late. Finally, he arrived, and I was able to zip away.

I then did all the things one does in such situations: drive to the doctor, sign in, wait, be called back, give preliminaries to nurse, wait some more, give details to doctor, get prescriptions, pay bill, leave, go to drug store, submit prescriptions, wait, receive medication, pay, leave, drive home, drag assorted stuff into house, take pills, go to bed.

Several times, I woke up but went back to sleep almost immediately. I finally woke up around 8:30 and kept thinking that it was 8:30 am, Tuesday morning. Monday to Wednesday really was a time warp, for I remember bits and pieces but not in any discernable pattern. Thursday, much against my better judgment, I went back to work, but I actually managed to survive the day without barfing on anyone.

So now it is a week later, and I feel like I've been trapped in a temporal anomaly, and everything has been flowing around me.

For several months, I've been whining about the state of net audio channels. And I certainly have seen little improvement. Although I have access to a DS3 connection to the net, I don't know the extent of other traffic on the pipe. Nor do I know the quantity or quality of traffic on the Novell network that gets you to the DS3. And I've downloaded the latest Real Audio G2 player. However, I've discovered some channels are never available. Some are available but quickly crash. Some come and go. All this to say, I know I can not depend on them.

Of late, I've been carting CDs back and forth to work, rather than endure the problems of the net. Yesterday, I took two Radiohead works: "Pablo Honey" and "OK Computer." Thom Yorke's plaintive vocals strike a chord with me. The few times I've seen him on tv, such as the "Free Tibet" demonstration at the Capitol, or the on-tour movie, I'm assaulted by his sense of vulnerability. His singing seems gouged from his psyche. I want to wrap myself around him and offer protection from the storm. Here is this beautiful, slight man, and the only thing I know to offer is my body.

To be honest, I find the lyrics oblique at best. And I'm never sure what I'm hearing. And when I do hear it, I'm not sure what it means. But it may be that they are not so much painting wordscapes, as they are generating emotional states. Tales of regret, longing, isolation, insecurity. Lamentation, reconciliation, benediction.

I also took my favorite Pet Shop Boys' CD, "Very," which sounds as fresh now, as when I bought it five years ago. On the surface, it might seem that PSB is at the opposite end of the musical spectrum from Radiohead, but there is a great deal beneath the surface of "Very." Whereas Radiohead is plaintive, PSB lyrics are more poignant, but Neil's vocals are always detached. The beings who inhabit the PSB world are confused, isolated, forgotten, "outside the pale." One of the most telling is "The Theatre" with its disco swirl and lush atmosphere, yet is a view "from those you step over" to and from the theatre - the street people.

PAX!