Yesterday, all day, I'd find myself accidentally singing part of the refrain of Hendrix's Castle's Made Of Sand. I'd be walking down the street, someone would give me an odd look, and I'd realize I was singing.
I call it stumbling into song.
Today, all day, I've had that Blink-182 song in my head. The one that goes,
She said that I'm not the one that she thinks about
She said it stopped being fun, I just bring her down
I said don't let your future be destroyed by my past
She said don't let my door hit your ass
And whenever I'm singing it, I hit the last line hard, almost triumphantly, like it's my chance to tell off some hypothetical source of my (largely hypothetical) resentments. But of course, the song is about being told off, so I feel dumb. That's when I realize I'm singing in public.
Methinks I'm an iPod in a person's body. Sociobiology that, Lynn-face.
