Morning, afternoon, evening, night, and shut it, Muppet

Morning

Coffee: three heaped spoons of ground beans, just enough boiling water for one (small-ish) mug.

That's all.

No sugar. I'm no longer a small child.

No milk. I'm weaned.

Music: The Smashing Pumpkins' Adore today. Wonderful. Followed by Late Registration by Kanye West, and its lush swirls of great sampled songs.

Afternoon

Tea. Earl Grey.

No milk. Still weaned.

No sugar. Still not a small child.

Inspired by Touch the Sky, and the Move On Up samples, it's a Curtis Mayfield afternoon. Starting with my favourite: There's No Place Like America Today.

Evening

Damon Albarn's Everyday Robots. Then the half hour trip: The Avalanches Since I Left You.

Night

David Mitchells's The Bone Clocks, and headphones in the e-reader, playing the new Aphex Twin and Alt-J albums, Syro and This Is All Yours.

Pity the musicless soul

I can't imagine being in any workplace, particularly outside of phone-ringing hours, without some music playing. I can't imagine how a mind works, that doesn't get some music on the go while doing anything music doesn't interfere with.

I had the misfortune to sit and talk to two guys I used to work with. One said “I've been asked to mention that when [someone from the head office] rang there was music clearly playing in the background”. Two things. The correct reaction to a comment like that is “yeah, sure” followed by doing nothing at all other than logging the “anal retard” mental note; a less correct but better reaction would be “tell him yourself, you anal retard”, in terms of honesty if not of job-protection. My reaction was predictable: obvious, visible (and almost choreographed – for a purpose) flash of anger, followed by “that was after normal office hours, the number comes up on the phone, I knew it wasn't a client or anyone that should object to the music playing, given that it was after half-six”, then the anger returned “let me know if it's a problem, and I'll not work late, or, if absolutely necessary, work from home while listening to whatever I want to listen to”. If you're enough of a spiteful little shit to want to stop someone's music, you should have your oxygen stopped. They must be those people who object to headphones supplying the wearer's brain Miles Davis, or Talking Heads, or Steve Reich, or Frank Zappa, when those music-lovers should be listening to the boring drivel the objectors are spouting, discussing the latest developments in the Great Big Brother Baking Skating Dancing Ant and Dec-fest, or whatever it is they drone on about.