The sound of music

The hazardous side effects of a new alarm clock include having jimmy fucking buffett stuck in my head all damned day.

Music is still tending to lodge itself in very great detail more often than what had been normal for me. I'm not sure I can do the "hum the themes to Superman, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Star Wars without mixing them up or failing to recall one" trick so perhaps it's faded a bit from where it was a few months back. However, recently beyond the mandatory recall issue, how I experience music when I hear it has changed some. It's hard to describe. Essentially, it's more. E.g., music that annoys me I find is nearly physically painful to continue to listen to. Not a big deal, just turn it off, right? Well sometime's you just can't at that particular moment.

That's what happened today. A few days ago it was the station my bathroom radio was set to started playing some seriously fucked up jazz. And I was stuck in the shower. Although that certainly lasted longer than this morning's blast of margaritaville, the jazz shower was not as bad as today's music misery moment, which has etched each note, each progression, each inflection, and all the unfortunate overlaps and acoustic collisions onto my defenseless early morning brain.