We’ve shared thoughts on here before about how ordinary everyday stimuli will make us think of bands, song lyrics etc.. That seems to be a common experience among Afterworders and is hardly surprising given the personality traits that many of us are likely to share.
I shouldn’t think that I am the only person here who cannot hear someone announce they have a theory without hearing in my head (and disturbingly often coming out of my mouth) “Which is mine.” I am from Bolton and frequently refer to it as Notlob or even Ipswich without giving any thought to the possibility that my audience might not have the Parrot Sketch so immediately accessible to their consciousness that they’ll decode the reference. It is something of a miracle that I have never asked for a Dukla Prague away kit as a Christmas present (though I did once request a pair of Joy Division oven gloves) and if you mention that you can see a light at the end of the tunnel I’m likely to suggest that it’s the light of an oncoming train. And so on and so on. I’ve been like this all my life but my brain seems now to be so full of inconsequential stuff that it has little space left for anything else. And, for goodness’ sake, I now have the words Memory Almost Full obscuring my ability to type and an image of an armchair with McCartney’s signature front and centre in my mind.
In short, I am suffering from this malaise to an extent that is troubling. I was keen to read this article in The Guardian as “Freewill” is a subject that interests me. However, it took me an age to read it because, unwanted and unbidden, Neil Peart’s lyrics (I’ll post the song below) interposed themselves into the text more than once a paragraph. I love that song but I don’t think it’s the last word on the subject and I certainly don’t want it to stop me from reading an interesting article just because of the shared subject matter.
Am I alone?
Is there a cure?