I Saw Cyndi Lauper! Maybe She's Writing a Blog about Me...

Cyndi Lauper's Blog: I Saw Blogic Today!

Published on June 10, 2004 By blogic In Blogging

Okay, I'm continuing my break from Chasing the Queen Mary 2.

About a week ago, my monitor stopped working. That's not quite correct, because it still does a very good job of making weird clicking sounds when I plug it in, but it doesn't show any image. The clicking sounds kind of scared me; I pointed the screen away from me when I tested the monitor. As a computer consultant, I can report that monitors do sometimes explode, and I'd rather not be accessorized with shards of glass.

Yesterday, I went down to J&R Computers, next to City Hall Park, to look at some monitors. I ended up buying an emachines monitor at Circuit City, but the trip downtown was worth it anyway. Screeching (but in a pleasant way) and strutting on top of a piano was Cyndi Lauper, hair bright orange. New Yorkers love free stuff, and with all the unemployed artists, expect it to damned good, so of course there was a huge crowd around the stage. I walked in on this at the end of the concert, so I got to hear her Caribbean version of "Girls Just Want to Have Fun", which is okay, but nothing to write a blog about. D'oh!

My special secret: when I'm not funny, I just freeride off "The Simpsons".

All of this was just a cool experience. The weather was great, and everyone was smiling and dancing. To my right, the Brooklyn Bridge ended right at the park, and to my left rose the gothic Woolworth Building: for seventeen years the tallest building in the world. My beloved Empire State Building peers down the gray canyon of Broadway.

I went back this morning, to once again look at monitors, and found myself whistling "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" as I came up out of the Subway, next to the park. I whistled for at least a minute before I became conscious of why.

I do that all the time. I have virtually no sense of smell, which is good, because I hate cleaning, but music is intertwined into all my memories. Sometimes, after hours of riffing on some melody, I'll remember what obscure daily activity led the whistling part of my brain to obsess on the tune.

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