The guy on the radio played about an hour's worth of old calypso artists from the 40s, great artists like Macbeth the Great and Lord Invader, great songs like 'Buy Me a Zeppelin,' and it is the happiest greatest music I've ever heard, it seems to me but it's breaktime so I go outside and stand outside and I'm thinking what would really make me happy is that if animals could make music, not just make sounds like birdsong, whalesongs, etc., but real music. I would love to hear what kind of music animals would make if they had that talent. It would make me happy. But outside it is cold and spitting a gray half-rain and I didn't wear my coat, so it doesn't take long for my lungs to fill with something slightly thicker than water and then I'm coughing and gagging and go back inside to where its all warm flourescence and internet radio but there's a new DJ on WFMU and he's playing this ultra-dark Ching-Boom-Ching-Boom-Skronk gamelon nightmare bullshit and the spell is gone and now I'm thinking how life is just like that; how fast and slippery joy moves into something less and how something less slips impercepitively into joy when you're least expecting it.
