augury doggerel

Wednesday, January 09, 2002


Mornings, for an hour or two, I enjoy the radio alone and guiltlessly. I get here early and tune to a station that does not play the latest anything. Audio performers succeeding on the popularity of their breasts or dances or animations do not figure in its repertoire. People who have long been dust are popular on this frequency because there just haven�t been many sources of great music born this morning and put under contract over lunch.

My officemate is proudly, guilelessly Philistine. Lowbrow. He listens with the herd. When they hand out the televised Grammy awards, he will care.

But we share one sound space and need one sound source to distract us from the noise of about nine fingers hitting keys (neither of us is a typist), four lungs and two throats sighing, one cheek (not mine!) sneaking farts while two nostrils find a way of their own to snap closed, one mouth murmuring to an unseen female on the phone.

So we start on my station but, in the afternoon, we wait until a space of transmitted talk interrupts the music. The talk, always on cultural topics, especially bothers him. Then we have a comfortable excuse to change the station to what he likes without commenting on what I like.

And for the rest of the day, it's baby. Babe. Until the morning light.


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