THE GREAT GADFLY:

Fanboy Obsessions



My sleeping patterns have been thrown off-whack this year, for some ungodly reason. The usual drill is pretty typical, basic primate-mammal stuff - over the winter, I'm a puffy sloth with translucent skin and there don't seem to be enough hours in the day for sleeping; and then when summer arrives, I'm a happy insomniac who can thrive off two blinks of an eye and a quick saw of the log.

Now, however, I'm finding that while I was waking up at the very tip of dawn's ass crack during the first half of the year, I'm now caught in the tractor beam of some kind of blissed-out summer hibernation. I think I may have an addiction to the feel of a high-power fan blowing directly in my face. Oh, this is not a new jones for me, but recently I seem to be particularly smacked out by the fix of a hard slam of air to the punim. Maybe I was a semi driver's dog in a previous life, and spent most of my waking hours with my head hanging out of a truck window. Maybe I'm working through a past-life regression or something. I do not know.

I guess I should just be happy that I only have an addiction to air blowing in my face and not to, like, skag or smack or tick or something. Though I ought to tell you - being an oscillating fan junkie is a VERY expensive habit, indeed. Have you ever mainlined a Vornado while getting your hump on with a three-speed Wind Machine, while grappling with three or four mini-clip-on travel fans attached to parts of the body I'd really rather not discuss right now? I may not be ready to admit I'm helpless against my addiction, but I CAN confess that I have a very glamorous, exclusive and SEXY monkey on my back.

Speaking of addictions:

I simply cannot have enough Soulwax/2 Many DJs/Kill All DJs compilations. I have four of them, they all sound alike, and I adore them all. I stumbled across a new one last night but did not purchase it because my landlord gets all in a tiff when my rent check bounces. It's not like he doesn't have other tenants who can give him money - what do I look like, Santa Claus? I have music to buy. And oscillating fans. Luscious, voluptuous, twirling fans. Pretty fans. Supple...

Anyway, yeah, these Soulwax records. They're imports, and for those few of you who are not a member of my almost-exclusively European readership, that means they're nearly twice the price of a domestic U.S. music release. And yes, I think the music really IS that good. And yes, I really AM that stupid. Money parts from me like bark from a dead tree. Clearly, metaphors do not fall from my branches with such ease. But what can you do, I'm a busy man who doesn't get paid for my right-brain skills. It's all I can do to complete a sentence for you people today.

Does anyone else have a weakness for these finance-sucking Soulwax comps? And believe me, I'm not asking this because I have any intention of engaging in some kind of money-saving music-trading scheme, or that I would in any way be in favor of trading CD-Rs, or anything like that. I don't care if these compilations are technically bootlegged material and it would be technically kind of okay to do something like that. Unless you specifically e-mail me and tell me which volumes you have, I WILL HAVE NO PART IN ANYTHING OF THE SORT, do you hear me?

Was that weaselly? I feel dirty. But not very.

As long as I'm celebrating my sleeping disorders, hardcore addictions, poor will power and lack of fiscal responsibility, I should announce that I'm in the early ideation stages of a much-needed professional divorce in my world. As soon as I figure out which box of RIT dye to use for changing the color of my parachute, I'll be on my way. I've realized that for the first half of this year, I spend seven hours a day in a maze in which I feel like a complete ghost, where I have absolutely no meaningful connections with anything or anyone, on any level. It's like walking into a replica of your home and realizing that everything, from your furniture to your plates to your toilet to your clothes, have been replaced with models made from crepe paper. Only not as conceptually cool.

Like I said - trouble with metaphors today. Hope to remedy this problem anon. Please advise.

Regards,

Gadfly

PS - If you need me today and I'm not at my desk, I'll be over at the shipping dock - by the big, strong, industrial-strength fan. Thank you.

PS2 - TO QS: FEEL BETTER SOON.


2003-10-14 - Last Haiku
2003-10-09 - Don't Cry Out Loud
2003-10-09 - Sit Down, You're Making Me Nervous
2003-10-08 - I'm Sure Miss Thing, I'm Sure
2003-10-07 - Carbonated Water, Caramel Color, Aspartame

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