The Air.
by Dr. Pants on Nov.15, 2008, under Norway
I think I have mentioned the air in Norway before.
When Deb was pregnant with Natalie and she left Buffalo, for Norway, I came to visit a few times. Each time I came I lost weight. I also slept very deeply. It took me a few months to figure out it was the air. There is something about this place that makes the air like a drug. When I told my doctor that I lost weight when I visited, he said it was, partly, because I slept so well.
I tried a little experiment a few weeks ago. I slept a whole week with the window shut. Then I slept a week with the window open a crack. I slept like a drugged baby when the window was open a crack. Needless to say, I leave it open a crack even when it is arctic cold outside.
I have searched on for other people who have written about it. Nothing.
Does anyone know anything about this?
November 16th, 2008 on 10:44 pm
Air is good for you no matter where you are. If you don’t have enough air you don’t sleep well because you die, which makes it hard to wake up in the morning. The problem of sleeping with the window up in Buffalo is that the air is full of shit that tends to kill you in the long run and cripple you in the short run.
The only thing I’ve ever read about air that makes perfectly good sense is this:
The air
Escaping from your mouth
The hair
Escaping from your nose
My heart
Escaping from the scraping
And the shaping
Of the draping…
I’m awaking
In a t-shirt
In a chevy
At a beach
And I’m freezing
And I’m wheezing
And I know
You were only teasing
Then I hit you
And I beat you
And told you
That I love you
In my car
In a jar
The air
Escaping from your pits
The hair
Escaping from my teeth
My hands
Are gripping
But they’re slipping
And they’re dripping
’cause I’m tripping
I got busted
Coming through customs
With a suitcase
Full of tapes
It was special
Tape recording
And they grabbed me
While I was boarding
Then they hit me
And they beat me
And they told me
They don’t like me
And I crashed
In my nash
We can crash
In my nash
I hope this helps you solve the mystery or the misery, whichever is more to your liking. Want some more Koolaid? I’ve got plenty.
November 16th, 2008 on 11:01 pm
If only I had your talent for writing. I am really struggling to put two words together lately.
November 16th, 2008 on 11:01 pm
I likeh the koolaid.
November 18th, 2008 on 2:39 am
Those lyrics, btw, are from Burnt Weeny Sandwich, I believe, another Zappa masterpiece of noodlism.
Being able to put two words together don’t amount to jackshit. Here in the NOMPH™, children that aren’t left behind often choose to throw themselves onto the freeway under eighteen-wheelers to prove that Joe Six Pack really does count from something. Hell, without Joe Six Pack there would still be sober people living on the res.
I’m branching out into love crimes. Hate crimes are just so pathetic in age where black is the new black. You should move back to this place. It’s even worse now than it was two months ago and it’s going to get so much worse that I’m already stockpiling soap to sell my neighbors when the lines get really long at the gas stations. Yep. That’s an Auschwitz joke!
November 19th, 2008 on 3:59 pm
Less shit in the air up there.