February 6, 2011 Seth Perkins

The Morning FM Radio In My Head

Since you’re reading this, I’m hoping from the title, you know what I’m talking about: that FM station in your brain that only you hear.   Most of the time, you’re the DJ and the tunes on your internal radio are good ones.  My station covers the gamut between classical, blues, jazz, rock, hip-hop and everything in between.  The DJ tends to roll with my mood so the cross-genre-thing really is meaningless, its the mood-ride that the show is all about : most of the time.  Sometimes, usually in the morning, that FM station is on auto-pilot.  The DJ has gone out for a coffee, a very long coffee.  He’s probably in his car driving a few hours away and I’m stuck listening to whatever track he put on continuous loop to mess with my otherwise peaceful morning.

This morning, that tune was “Honey, Honey”  as heard in “Mama Mia”, by ABBA. . .  . . .  . . .

Yeah, I have no idea where that came from.  I only saw a few minutes of “Mama Mia” 1.5 years ago when a roommate had the film on.  Anyway, I guess my DJ liked it, or thought it’d be a good laugh to put on repeat.  It was about 4 hours later when the FM station gave it a rest and returned to regular programming (which was probably a blend of RZA, Thelonius Monk, and some techno-esque dance tune).

… There was this other time: I had just started a very specialized software sales job in CT and I had to get up at 2:30 in the morning to drive to La Guardia for a flight to DC.  When my alarm went off, my brain was completely dead.  There was no higher mental function, no chatter among the synapses, just my internal FM Radio looping over and over “Mama said there’d be days like this, that there’d be days like this my Mama said.  Mama said.  Mama said.”   (Repeat )  The sad thing is those are the only lyrics of the song I know, so, the record on the radio just kept skipping and skipping.  It skipped in the shower, it skipped while driving from Norwalk, CT to Long Island.  It skipped in the terminal.  It was about 4 hours later, while I was asleep on the plane, that the DJ came back and decided enough was enough.

Please tell me you know what I’m talking about.

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