In that case, I knew why that particular song was my nocturnal plague, but sometimes the origin of such a thing is a bit more obscure. So when I found myself singing (yes, aloud -- don't worry, there was no one else within earshot so it doesn't count as hardcore-weird) on the way to the dumpster the other day, as I often do I stopped and thought, "Where did that come from?" And of course my next thought, because this is the way I've wired myself, was: "I wonder if there's a blog in that?" If anything's hardcore-weird, it might be that.
Since it was late in the afternoon, right after I finished working, I was (a) trying to knock out a couple simple chores like taking out the garbage; and (b) musing over what to have for dinner. Conventional wisdom would suggest -- and by "conventional wisdom" I mean the wisdom I'm married to; "suggest" is, of course, a euphemism -- that meals be preplanned on a weekly basis. I tend to be a bit more... improvisational. Not "disorganized", or "procrastinating"; just... "creative". As a result, I often end up applying that creativity in the late afternoon, with a matter of minutes to both plan & begin to execute.
In this case, the stakes were higher: since it was Thanksgiving week, there was a necessity both to clear out the fridge and to avoid putting more stuff in it. Unfortunately, although we had several lefotvers available, I wasn't sure whether it would add up to a meal. Perhaps if I could pad it out a bit...
... I mean, find a way to round out the nutritional and flavor profile, of course. I knew I had a loaf of Vienna bread in the cupboard; maybe in combination with miscellaneous leftovers, I could call it a meal (cautionary tale: I've been doing that a lot recently, due to various scheduling and, well, "creative" constraints -- until finally my son said, "Dad, can we have a real supper tonight?").
Whenever I see Vienna bread, it reminds me of the Billy Joel song, "Vienna", from The Stranger album -- one of the very first albums I ever bought for myself, courtesy of the ubiquitous Columbia House Record Club.
Ordinarily, free-associating over to a song name like that is all it takes to get me singing it, but in this case the beginning of the song didn't come immediately to mind. So casting about in the Billy Joel vault, I came up with the title cut of the next album -- 52nd Street. It's hardly a song at all... more like a coda to the album as a whole. Remember back when there were albums and they went together in some way? 52nd Street is kind of a jazz/blues-influenced album, and the title song is a short (9-line) piece with a bit of New Orleans flavor. If nothing else, I know I can sing 9 lines from memory; I think that's why it seems to surface so readily.
It's not his best song, or album for that matter; if you check the reviews at the Amazon link above, there's a lot of condescending 'nice try' evaluations. The singles from the album were My Life, Honesty, and Big Shot -- in my opinion, the three worst songs on the record. You can see all three videos at his YouTube page, if you miss the 70s or just wonder what the fuss was about (whatever you do, don't go to http://www.billyjoel.com/, which not only crashed my browser 3 times in a row, but also features a photo of him which reminds us all just how l.o.n.g ago 1978 actually was). You might better go get your hands on the album & listen to the cool cuts like Half a Mile Away, Rosalinda's Eyes, and Until the Night.
That's recommendation #1 -- #2 would be to listen to yourself a little in the coming days. When you get one of those "random" thoughts, or songs in your head, take a sec to try to trace it back to the source. It's terrific practice for parenting, since it helps develop your ability to understand what they're thinking & why... and it's the game the whole family can play. You don't even need a playing board or a deck of cards -- just bring your brain.
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